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sanguineterrain · 8 months

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Feel like I’m so basic but Jason Todd with a crush and him having zero social skills and just being super clumsy despite being highly competent when he’s in the field. Crush is like real sweet and kind maybe a service worker ✨

anon u are so true and real for this bc jason is definitely an unsocialized cat when he has a crush 💓

jason todd x gn!reader. shyish/anxious jason with a big fat crush. baker reader. annoying customer. the duality of jason todd. 1.6k words.

also i fully believe that silently leaving huge tips as a way to flirt is like. a wayne trait. 100% that family does that bc of bruce.

prompt lists are here! i reblog all fics to @sanguinelibrary

****

Business has been slow.

It's not like you expect your cafe to be packed to the rafters all day long, but you've had a grand total of four customers today. One of them only came in to ask where Starbucks was.

Frankly, you're not sure the cafe can afford to stay afloat for much longer. Gotham isn't known to preserve small businesses, and the conglomerates (cough, Wayne Enterprises) are taking over the world anyway.

So today is a reading day. You might even close early.

You're at a table in the back, so absorbed in Poirot's sleuthing that you don't hear the door open. It isn't until you turn the page and look up that you see your resident lurker waiting quietly at the display case. You flinch so hard that you spill iced tea on your jeans.

"Shit," you murmur, grabbing a wad of napkins and patting yourself dry.

Jason (as is written on his coffee cup) looks up from the pastries, teal eyes wide. You smile briefly at him. For such a big guy, his footsteps are astonishingly soft.

"Is everything okay?" he asks, voice rough like he doesn't speak much.

"Yeah, fine. You just startled me—I didn't hear you come in. Were you waiting long? Sorry about that."

"Oh. No, I wasn't. Sorry." He shifts weight between his feet. "You seemed pretty engrossed in your book. I didn't, uh, want to disturb you."

"Oh, hey, don't worry about that! It's literally my job to be here," you say, though you can't help but melt over how freaking sweet that is.

Jason visits you a minimum of twice a week. He's been coming for a couple of weeks. You know a whole three things about him: he's a university student, he pretty much only dresses in red or black, and he's unfairly cute.

At first, you were reasonably wary of him because it's Gotham, and he's so damn quiet. It's a little scary. You thought maybe he was an undercover spy casing the joint. Now you know he's just awkward.

"Slow day?" he asks.

"Slow year, more like. How are you? How was your exam?"

He blinks. "Exam?"

"Didn't you have an American lit exam last week?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Wow. Yes, I did. It was okay. Got an A."

"That's great! I knew you'd ace it."

His cheeks turn pink. Okay, you actually know four things about him: he blushes a lot.

You go to start the coffee machine. "Do you think you'll—"

"I-I have to go."

You watch, stunned, as he hurries out the door. That's when you notice the fifty dollar bill in your tip jar.

You don't know if you should bring up yesterday. Jason's back; that probably means everything's fine, right? You're not sure if you said something wrong, though. You've gone over the interaction a hundred times since and you can't figure out why he's so skittish around you.

"Hi. Hibiscus tea, please," he says, stoic as always.

You prepare his order, yesterday's interaction still fresh in your head. You should say something, shouldn't you? Or...

"Sorry about yesterday," Jason blurts, so fast you almost miss it. "Running out, I mean. I was, uh—I forgot something."

Well. Looks like he's going to bring it up for you.

"Oh, you don't have to apologize! If I said something wrong..."

Jason shakes his head fervently. "No, God no. You're perfect."

Your eyebrows shoot up. He turns red this time.

"I mean—not perf—well, you're amazing, don't get me wrong! Except, like, what is perfect, y'know? My brother has gotten into the habit of calling everything perfection like some kind of sitcom character. Alfred will make pie, and Dick'll go, "Alfie, that was perfection." And I feel like it's such an exaggeration—"

Jason's mouth snaps closed. He rubs his forehead.

"Um, I actually have chronic foot-in-mouth disease. It gets really, stupidly bad. Sorry."

You're trying hard not to giggle. You want to smother him in frosting and take a bite.

"You're really sweet, you know that?" you say.

"I'm really not," he says with a sigh.

"Not true. Can you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

You go into the kitchen and return with your latest experiment: matcha cream puffs.

"Do you mind trying these for me? You're not allergic to anything, are you?"

Jason's shoulders hunch. "Are you sure you want my opinion?"

"Of course I'm sure," you say happily. "I trust you."

"You trust me," he repeats quietly.

"Yup!"

Jason takes a puff and bites. He starts to nod.

"It's really good. You're really—all your creations are—yeah. It's good."

You squint. "No notes? Really?"

"They're perfection, as my brother would say."

Fuck, you like him so much.

"Have another one," you say, pushing the tray towards him.

"I shouldn't—"

"Wait! I'll pack you some!" you interrupt, flitting back to the kitchen to get a Tupperware.

Jason helplessly accepts the container of puffs you shove into his hands.

"Let me pay-" he tries to say, but you shake your head.

"Nope! I won't accept payment for these. Not from my favorite customer."

"Your favorite?"

"My favorite," you confirm, grinning.

"Oh." His ears turn pink as he walks to the door, cream puffs in hand. "Uh, right. Thanks. See you tomorrow."

"Jason? Don't you want your tea?"

"Shit. Yeah." He returns to the counter and takes his drink. This he insists on paying for, so you let him, because you do have rent to pay, after all.

"So nice to see you!" you add, because the stiffness in his gait is kind of throwing you off.

He just nods, slipping out the door as quietly as he came.

Today, Jason's in a red workout tank. You have to make the conscious effort to not ogle his arms.

"Hey, Jason!" you say cheerily.

"Hi," he says softly.

"The usual?" you ask, and he looks up in surprise.

"You know my order?"

You gently roll your eyes. "Of course I know your order, silly. Favorite customer, remember?"

"Oh." He looks away, brow furrowed. Then he turns to you and his expression smooths over. "Yes, please. Thanks."

"Sure. Give me one second? I just have to finish decorating some sugar cookies."

"Take your time," Jason says, then goes to skulk by the window.

The door is suddenly swung harder than necessary, thumping the glass.

"Hey!"

You look up from the cookies. A man in a suit is waving his phone impatiently.

"I ordered a dozen muffins. Where are they, huh?" he demands.

"Oh, right! Well, you called ten minutes ago, so they won't be ready till six, sir. Can I get you something while you wait?"

He scoffs and stomps to the counter. You almost back down, but you don't; that's exactly what these bullies want.

"This is exactly why no one eats at dinky cafes like yours. You can't even do this!" he fumes, shoving a finger in your face.

"Sir, like I said, the muffins are baking..."

"I know the city's health inspector personally," the man spits viciously. "One call, and I can—"

"Say one more word."

You blink as Jason is suddenly between you and the customer, stood at his full height. He's all muscle and broad shoulders, looming over the guy. You peek around him.

"What the fuck, man?" the angry customer squawks. "Move!"

"No, you move," Jason says, tone lethal. "Sit quietly at a table and wait for your muffins to bake. Then you can thank the nice baker for waiting on your sorry ass and you're not gonna come back. They have far more patience for entitled fucks than I do."

"Fuck you," the man spits.

Jason calmly closes the distance between them and whispers in his ear, hand like a vice around the jerk's shoulder. You watch as he turns pale, eyes growing wider.

"Sound good?" Jason asks pleasantly, all teeth. The man gapes at him.

Wow. Yeah. This is really doing something for you.

The oven dings. You go to retrieve the muffins, packing them as quickly as possible. You give him the box and the man nods.

"Thanks," he mumbles, then scurries out of the store.

Jason turns to you, and it's like looking at a completely different person.

"You okay?" he asks, posture stiff like he's still prepared for a fight.

You nod, a little dazed.

"Yeah. Wow. Jason, I... you didn't have to do that. I mean, thank you for doing it, but..."

"Hey, that guy was a jackass. And if you have trouble with him or anyone else, call me, okay?"

This side of him stuns you. If you didn't know better, you'd think he had this exchange regularly.

"Call you?" you ask, smiling. "How will I call you if I don't have your number?"

He freezes, eyes wide. "Oh. Uh. Um..."

You lean over, elbows on your counter. He watches you. You cup your hand around your mouth, pretending to divulge a secret.

"This is where you, the cute guy who frequents my struggling cafe, gives me your number."

"You think I'm cute?" he asks.

"Devastatingly so," you say, grinning.

He's quiet for a long moment. Your smile starts to dim.

"Did I read this wrong?" you ask. "If I came off too strong..."

"No!" he says a little too loud. Jason winces. "Sorry. No. I... you're... fuck, I'm not good at this. I don't even really drink tea or coffee, to be honest. I just come in to see you."

"You do?"

Jason sighs. "Yeah. Shit. That's creepy, isn't it?"

You laugh and he visibly softens.

"No, Jason," you say warmly. "It's sweet."

"So can I still ask you on a proper date? Not coffee."

You grin. "That would be perfection."

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #batman fanfiction #red hood fanfiction #jason todd fanfiction #coffee shop au #bakery au #dc fanfiction #inbox #blurb

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xoxoemynn · 4 months

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For OFMD Tumblr friends who want a S3 and are scared of Twitter

First, no judgment from me. I very much get it. I resisted Twitter for a long time, and even though I'm now a bit more comfortable on it, it's still not my Fandom Home. There are a TON of valid reasons not to be on Twitter, but if you REALLY want to keep OFMD visible right now and help its chances of returning for a third season, Twitter is the best place to do it. Like it or not, Twitter is still the best social media platform for raising awareness and for instant news updates.

Tumblr posts don't make headlines. Topics that have been trending on Twitter do. And if we want this show to come back, we need to make OFMD impossible to ignore.

By now you've probably seen just how close we came to a S3, and if you're like me, you are RAGING and donning your battle jacket. But I get it can be intimidating to get on Twitter for the first time, so I thought I'd address some common anxieties I see. I'll put below a cut because this got a bit long, but I promise it's a quick read.

I don't know what to say! Where do I even start? That's okay! You don't have to create your own tweets (although it's great if you do). Amplifying other people's posts is also important. Go ahead and like/retweet/reply to other people's posts. This may also help you get an idea of what you may like to say in your own tweets.

Hashtags...yes? Yes! Although don't use too many or you may get flagged as a bot. The biggest one that seems to be emerging is #SaveOFMD. Other popular ones are #RenewAsACrew, #RenewOurFlagMeansDeath, and of course, #OFMD and #OurFlagMeansDeath.

Should I just be tagging all the streaming services? Per @renewasacrew, no. It's counterproductive. You'll want to tag one streamer at a time and be specific. Below is an example of a tweet I made the other day -- use specific reasons why that that particular streamer may benefit from picking up OFMD.

I'm scared. People are mean. Yeah, people are mean. But I will say the vibes over at OFMD Twitter are currently the best I've ever seen them. People seem to have united for the greater good and are being overwhelmingly positive and just trying to do whatever we can to save the show. (That said, again, I already had a pretty curated feed, and was very liberal with blocking users/terms I didn't want to see, but I've been able to spend so much more time in the For You tab than I ever have without being jump scared by something.)

But I don't know anyone there! Wouldn't I just be shouting into the void? Not if you use the hashtags! Fans are being really good about following those and engaging with the tweets. Plus, [Stede voice], I'm your friend. I'm xoxoemynn over there as well, I'll follow you back and engage with any of your posts that I see. Plus, what's been REALLY lovely to see is that SO many lurkers have come out of lurkerdom to support the efforts, and they are being welcomed with open arms, so you will not be alone. Again, I am telling you, vibes? Best I've ever seen them.

I can't get sucked into another social media platform, I don't have the time. The beauty here is you don't need to spend a lot of time. I've been on Twitter more in the past week than I have in the entire year I've had an account, and I'm still only on for maybe an hour total the entire day? I open the app, I check a couple accounts, I engage with a handful of posts, and I close the app. It takes all of five minutes. It's an extremely small lift that can have a very big impact.

My bet is on Zaslav expecting us to be upset, and that there may be a day or two of outrage, but then we'd move on. I'm sure right now he's trying to convince everyone that this is a fluke, and that it'll blow over soon. Don't let him win. Keep OFMD in the news. Be loud (but polite) and make Max and other streamers take note of what a passionate, loyal fan base this show has. Make their stocks continue to drop. Make it clear this is NOT just a fluke, it is NOT business as usual. It's a BIG fuck up with lasting consequences.

Twitter, for all its sins, is the best place to do this.

Now let's get our damned show back.

#ofmd #our flag means death #renew as a crew #truly BELIEVE ME I get wanting to stay away!!#and if after we get picked up again you want to delete your account please go ahead and do that!#but this is a really easy and tangible way to show Max/other streamers #just how beloved the show is and how it would benefit them to save it #I love tumblr but it's not going to give us the kind of impact we want #it's for fans - not for external folks/key decision makers #ANYWAY I am by NO MEANS a twitter expert but I'm getting better #and I've seen some people be nervous about getting on the platform so I thought I'd try to help <3

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whore4abby · 6 months

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heyyyy vannyyyyyy i love u sm i promise i'm not being a lurker

what abt model reader and abby at like a designers party (yk the devil wears prada 👀)

i'm too obsessed with everything u write is there like a support group or something for whore4abby addicts

ferny fern ur brain !! this idea is so yummy 😵‍💫 i love u MORE !! thank u for this hope u don’t mind me switching it up a lil mwah mwah !! NO ONE would join that damn support group bffr wrote this at 3am let’s not talk abt it

high fashion;

kinda a part two of this !!

warnings; smut - sex in a public bathroom, strap-on usage (r!receiving), choking (with abby’s tie), mdni

wc; 1.7k

“abs…c’mon, baby…we gotta leave in a few minutes.” you call out to your wife who’s spent the last 30 minutes making sure she looks absolutely perfect, not one hair out of place in her braid, making sure her new tux was absolutely spotless.

“i’m coming, doll…gimme a minute.” she calls out softly and you laugh and roll your eyes playfully at her antics. the ongoing joke that she spends way more time getting ready than you do slowly but surely starting to become a reality.

you smooth out the fabric of your almost sheer, black satin dress and slip on your jimmy choo heels, grabbing your purse from the dresser before looking up just as abby walks out from the bathroom. you swear you feel your eyes turn into little heart shapes as you see her.

she looks nothing short of absolutely perfect in her sleek, tailored black tux paired with her shiny black dress shoes, her muscular forearms filling out the sleeves of her suit jacket and her long hair slicked back from her face. you're absolutely smitten as you rush over to press your lips against hers repeatedly, “god, you’re so pretty…” you sigh, words coming out as a breathless whisper as you press your face against her chest, closing your eyes and breathing in her familiar scent.

before you know it you’re gathered in a spacious studio for a small, intimate gathering of some couture designers to showcase their new up-coming works. you’re surrounded by mannequins displaying gorgeous designer clothes, along with an assortment of clothes scattered around the room, from elegant ballgowns to sophisticated suit jackets.

the windows are covered in velvet drapes, allowing a small amount of natural moonlight to flood the room. everyone whispering discreetly amongst themselves, scanning the surroundings and taking in all the lavish clothing and glittering accessories.

you wander off away from abby for a little while, you’re quietly minding your own business checking out some artist sketches that are carefully hung up on the wall when you feel a presence beside you. “beautiful aren’t they?” a heavily accented voice causes you to look away from the framed pictures and you turn your head to see a familiar italian designer.

“yeah…they’re gorgeous! are they for the new spring-summer collection?” you query, you head tilting curiously in his direction. “yes, that’s correct…these pieces should be out within the next couple of months.” he smirks and leans in closer to you.

“i was actually just thinking about you.” he places a hand on your shoulder and you resist the urge to shudder in disgust. “oh, please…i’m not that special.” you force a stiff laugh and shake your head, after all this time you still find it hard to believe that you have become a well-known, household named model.

“im serious! i saw you at that runway show a couple weeks ago…and let me say, it’s been driving me crazy ever since. ive been dying to get in contact with you-“ he chuckles, his gaze drifting down towards you body. he takes your hand in his, a cunning smile spreading wide as he leans in to kiss your cheek. you shake his hand curtly before pulling your hand back and jerking your face away from him.

he continues to flirt with you, his eyes finding yours and locking onto them. “perhaps you’d be interesting in catching a drink tonight?” he looks down at your shoulder and casually caresses it with his hand. “my hotel is just a couple blocks away, and i know you’re staying in the city the whole weekend. so whatdya say?”

you start purposely clinking your perfectly polished wedding ring against your half empty champagne glass, hoping he gets the hint. “i’ll actually be busy with my wife….in our own hotel room, thank you very much.”

you catch a glimpse of abby across the room, she instantly feels a pang of jealousy as she watches him openly flirt with her girl practically right in front of her face.

her brow begins to furrow and she discreetly ends the conversation she’s having and makes her way over to you, she obviously saw the guy kiss you, and she’s clearly not happy about it.

you watch his smile falter a little at the mention of your wife, and he directs his gaze towards abby as she approaches, obviously intimidated by her height and stature. “everything okay, my love?” she asks, her eyes still watching the designer. you lean in to kiss her briefly before pulling away and nodding, wrapping your arm around her bicep.

he finally gets the hint and laughs, taking a step or two back. “hmm, well isn’t that a shame?” he says with a grin. he turns to walk away, before stopping and turning back to face you. “well if you ever want to get in touch, here’s my card.” he holds out a small business card with his details on it and smiles at you, abby quickly pushes his hand away and speaks in a passive-aggressive manner, “my wife and i won’t be needing that, thank you.”

he laughs cockily, obviously slightly amused before turning on his heel and walking off to probably shamelessly flirt with another married woman.

abby leans into you, resting her head against yours, taking the champagne flute out of your hand and placing it on a nearby silver side-table. her eyes still watching the designer as he saunters away. “i don’t like how he was looking at you, darling.”

you roll your eyes at her comment, giggling slightly. “babe, calm down,” you say, squeezing her hand. you look over at her and smirk at her. “but you’re really the only one who i’ve got my eyes on, okay?”

“you’re mine…all fuckin mine~” her voice is rough, and she still can’t shake her jealousy from that designer looking at you. abby leans in and kisses you on the neck, her lips gently sucking and nibbling at the sensitive skin.

abby smiles wickedly at you, before grabbing you by the hand and quickly dragging you to the back of the boutique. you find yourself in a fancy, private bathroom and abby quickly locks the door behind you. she pulls you in for a heated kiss and you can feel her firm body pressing against yours.

abby’s tongue gently plays against yours, her hands caressing your face and your body, slowly pulling you closer to her. she bites down on your bottom lip slightly, but not hard enough to hurt you.

she pulls away for a second before diving back in, kissing you passionately and with more force than before. “all mine~” she whispers in your ear, her breath hot on your neck, her fingers finding their way down to hike your dress up over you ass, bending you over in the sink counter.

you hear the zipper of her pants being yanked down and the rusting of her shirt being untucked before she pulls your panties off your body and discards them onto the floor before nudging your legs apart with her knee.

you whine as she swipes the tip of the strap-on through your sticky folds, gathering up your slick before pressing the head of the dildo against your slit. “say it…tell me who's the only one who gets you this wet~” she pushes in slowly, groaning at the sight of your pussy greedily taking her cock. “you, abs…fuucck- only you!”

she thrusts herself fully inside without warning, all seven inches of black silicone right up to the hilt making you cry out, feeling every vein and ridge flush against the walls of your cunt. the stinging stretch causing your face to contort in a mixture of pleasure and pain as she pulls out until just the tip remains inside, then slams back in. she roughly manhandles you, slamming you back on her cock. “nnhhggg…a-abby~”

you hear her fumbling with something before you suddenly feel pressure around your throat, the silky material of her tie digs into your neck as she wraps it around your throat and yanks you back to make eye contact with her in the mirror. “look at me while im fucking you, yeah?” she growls through gritted teeth, her eyes dark and filled with jealousy fueled lust.

you’re gripping onto the marble counter so hard that your knuckles are starting to lose their colour, strangled moans leaving your lips, the perfectly applied lipstick now smudged around your mouth in messy splotches.

she drops the tie onto the counter and you gasp for some much needed air. she snakes her free hand down to rub at your clit lazily as she snaps her hips into yours at an eye-rolling pace. “a-abby! oohhh…my god…fuck…” the fingers of her unoccupied hand dig into your hip, holding you in place as she starts to pound into you relentlessly, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing in the small bathroom.

she groans, picking up the pace, the friction from the harness against her clit making her moans grow louder and more desperate, hips grinding into you in-between thrusts as she chases her own release.

you thighs start to clench and shake as her pace picks up even more, leaving you gasping and grabbing at any surface you can find to ground yourself. “you feel that? only i can make you cum like this, yeah?” you’re babbling incoherently as the the head of her cock keeps bumping into that sweet spot until it has you letting out a loud pleading cry as you cum on her cock.

she keeps thrusting, prolonging your release as she helps you ride out your own orgasm, her thick fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise.

“fuuccckk~” she pants heavily, leaning forward to rest her head against your back, the harness still grinding against her clit and making her cum hard whilst still buried inside you.

she lets out a loud groan as she pulls out with a pop, looking down at the mess between your legs and the cum dripping from your clenching cunt. you turn back to face her and she brings your mouths together in a brief, heated kiss before pulling away and carefully helping you clean yourself up.

she tucks her strap-on back into her pants and neatens her tux up before picking up your discarded panties and shoving them into her pocket before holding her arm out for you to take. “c’mon, baby~” her chivalrous action a stark contrast to the way she just fucked you into oblivion not even five minutes ago.

you smile coyly, adjusting your dress and grabbing onto her forearm as she leads you out of the bathroom and back out into the main studio space, not even caring about the skeptical looks and the un-approving stares of the people around you.

an; model!reader has me in an absolute chokehold right now😵‍💫if u have any ideas for more PLSSS leave me a request !!!!

#*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ⋆.ೃ࿔myfics⌨️#⋆｡˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚requests🫙#abby anderson #abby tlou #tlou abby #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby the last of us #abby x reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson smut #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson x fem reader #abby x you #abby anderson x y/n

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morallyinept · 1 month

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For anyone who needs to hear this today...

Dieter and I are just weighing in on some of the conversations floating around where people are feeling like they're not wanted here, or who feel like they might want to leave...

You ARE absolutely wanted here.

Whether you're a creator, reader, silent lurker. It doesn't matter if you have 1 follower or 10k. Whether you write one chapter every few weeks, or churn out fics on the daily.

This is a fandom, not a competition.

You. Are. All. Wanted. Here.

Tumblr, for want of a better analogy, is a crap factory of a website. 😝 It's gone down the pan in the last decade massively, and it's the complete opposite of what other social media platforms do, (in terms of likes and algorithims etc... you have to re-blog everything - not like it - here to get any traction) you get out of Tumblr what you put in, effectively.

No-one here is better than anyone else, we're all part of that big Pedro table and continuously squish up to make room for everyone. And if anyone isn't doing that, then they should be the one's to leave, not you.

I get it. I feel it too. I've contemplated leaving several times. Yeah. It's a hard place sometimes to try and make a tiny space of it your own.

☝🏻But remember, even the biggest blogs on here started off with zero followers and had to build their niche from scratch. Rome wasn't built in a day.

It takes time and effort. It might look like it's easy for others, but it really isn't. And I'm in no way a "big blog" in the slightest.

But I stay here doing my own thing, because ultimately, I love writing and creating - it makes me happy, and I love the sense of community here.

I get immense joy out of making my silly banners and posts, and having a giggle with like-minded people when Pedro shaves his beard off (🫠). I ignore the drama and focus on having a positive time here.

But I get that doesn't work for everybody. Sometimes it's hard to tune all the fuzz out, right? It's massively overwhelming some days on here - I feel ya, bub.

The level of talent in this fandom is incredible, but it often leaves you feeling like "where do I begin?" Or "who do I talk to?" And "how do I talk to someone without coming across as weird?" And "how the hell do I re-blog everything and reply to comments and remember to answer DM's and Asks, whilst remembering to update my WIP and see what my fav blogs have posted, and catch up on that fic I like..? 🤯

In short, you can't.

You simply can't do everything.

And you shouldn't try to either as that's when you'll burn out and when things start feeling overwhelming. Then your enjoyment wanes and then that's when you feel like you want to give it all in.

Just breathe.

The best advice I can give (and I'm no expert!) is to curate your own experience here as best as you can.

Eliminate that overwhelming feeling to make your Tumblr time and space enjoyable.

Make it work for you and your needs.

Some easy things you can do that might help:

Update your notifications - I personally filter out the likes, otherwise I find I miss notifs like new followers or comments etc... Tumblr can be glitchy as hell too, so by removing the likes, you can see all the stuff you don't wanna miss. To turn them off, go into your activity (app version) and hit custom, scroll down to custom again and then untick likes:

There's a new option now to subscribe to specific blogs you like and adjust your home feed settings to that. You click on the blogs themselves and add them to get notifications and then they'll appear under Blog Subs on your feed. You can then switch through feeds to just see the blogs you've added, rather than everyone you follow. It's then easy to switch between feeds:

Limit your time here - if it starts to feel overwhelming, take a break! That's your brain telling you that you might need it. We'll all still be here when you come back. Don't compromise your peace of mind or happiness for the sake of scrolling for hours.

If you're a creator and have writer's block etc... again, take that break! Whether it's a day or a week, or a year. Take as long as you need. Those that are worth it will still be here and will wait patiently for you. Don't put unnecessary pressure on yourself. And if anyone does pressure you, block them.

Forget the numbers. I know, I know, it's easier said than done. Of course we want re-blogs and engagement, it's why we're here and putting our work out there. We wouldn't do it if we didn't want that engagement. But don't let the numbers be the main reason why you do it, otherwise your expectation can often be met with a harsh reality when it doesn't go how you think it will. Do it because it makes you happy, first and foremost. There will always be someone who looks forward to what you put out there.

If you want engagement, you need to engage back. This community survives and thrives on sharing. Re-blog everything you like. Re-blogging is the number one must on Tumblr. It's how the site works. Likes are lovely, but it's simply just a book marking feature here, which is essentially useless as your likes get pushed to the bottom of your like pile the more you like things. RE-BLOG EVERYTHING. By re-blogging you can also use tags so you can easily find things again. Liked that Frankie Morales fic you read last week? Re-blog it with the tag 'Frankie Morales' for example, and then you can search your own blog to find everything you've ever tagged with 'Frankie Morales'. You can even schedule re-blogs in advance too. You can't do any of that with likes. You'd have to scroll through every single like you've ever liked to find it again... and ain't no-one got time for that. If you're someone who is asking for engagement, you need to be prepared to give it back. I repeat, RE-BLOG EVERYTHING!

"Yeah, but if I re-blog everything, my aesthetic will be compromised, or my blog will be bulky and I might annoy everyone by appearing on their feed too much..." These are all valid concerns, but you can simply make a side blog specific for re-blogging things if you want. Whatever way you choose to do it, re-blog, re-blog, re-blog!

Be bold and reach out using DM's and ASK's. I don' think there's a single writer or artist out there who doesn't like getting a comment or a message complimenting their work. And we all love to chat about it, and that's an easy way in and to make friends too! It can be daunting, but I assure you if you're polite and kind, people will want to engage back with you. We all have one thing in common here at least - Pedro! 🥰

Sometimes, it can feel like everyone has their own friend groups or cliques and it can be hard to find your own community within a community. Almost everyone I engage with on a daily basis here, new and old users, are some of the nicest, kindest people I've spoken to. You really have nothing to be afraid of. They're just like you - they want to talk and make friends.

These are just some tips that I've found have worked for me on my own Tumblr journey with quelling that overwhelming feeling. And I hope they can help you in some way, especially if you're contemplating being here right now.

You might feel that what you put out there isn't appreciated because it doesn't get the notes or engagement you want, but I promise you, there is always someone who you have touched with your words and work.

Be kind to yourself and know that you really are a valued part of this fandom.

🖤

YOU. ARE. STRONGER. THAN. YOU. THINK. 🖤

Do you. Then do Dieter.

Self-Care With Dieter & Jett

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #self care with dieter & jett #dieter bravo #you are stronger than you think #do you #then do dieter

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raythekiller · 10 months

Note

I’m happy to be apart of the family!! I’ve chosen 🫧anon btw, because who doesn’t like bubbles :)

my little request is the creeps or proxies and how they’d be helpful during that lovely time of month, because me and my cramps need some comfort while I crave 🤯. Of course you’re welcome to add our favorite boy, lane.

again, please to join this community of anons!!

-🫧anon

🗒 ❛ Reader On Their Period ༉‧₊˚✧

Featuring: Jeff The Killer, Ben Drowned, Ticci Toby, Eyeless Jack, Masky, Hoodie, Lane The Lurker

#Notes: sry it took a while to answer this one ive got over 40 asks in my inbox-

pronouns used: none, gn! afab! reader

˗ˏˋ back to navigation ´ˎ˗

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Jeff The Killer

This piece of shit jerk will most likely be grossed out by it, like he doesn't come home covered in someone else's aids infested blood on a daily basis. "But it's different!-" yeah yeah, sure thing, Jeffrey. Will at most throw you a heat pack, but from a distance, he doesn't want to get cooties or whatever it is that you have.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Ben Drowned

Again, he died when he was about twelve, I doubt his parents gave him the talk™ before he hit the shits. After you explain it to him, he's mortified. Will actually act like you're dying. If you show any signs at all of being in pain he'll rush you over to EJ whether you like it or not, but when you're fine he just tries to help distract you with videogames.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Ticci Toby

He's used to it because of Lyra, so he knows what to do. Steals any product you might need, like snacks, tampons and pain killers and gives you lots of cuddles. Also gives you a warm blanket and rubs your stomach whenever your cramps get a bit much. Deadass treats you like royalty.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Eyeless Jack

Come on guys, he's a doctor, he knows his shit. If you're in pain he'll make you a medicine cocktail that will get rid of issues you didn't even know you had. Though he's not the most physically affectionate - you'll have to ask if you're needy and want attention. If you do manage to cuddle him, it actually helps with the cramps because of how warm he is.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Masky

Assuming you're dating, he's actually a lot more gentle with you during this time of the month, knowing you can get a bit moody. Makes sure you always have enough tampons and pain killers. Might even give you a massage if you ask nicely. Feels bad about seeing you in pain, so he might take you to EJ as well if it's a bit much.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Hoodie

Did you know orgasms help with period cramps? It's true. That is his first suggestion when you complain about being in pain and you're not totally sure whether he's kidding or not (he's not). Overall, like Toby, also steals any supplies you might need and cuddles you if you need some attention, finding you cute when you're needy like this.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Lane The Lurker

They take care of all your chores so you can just lay down and relax. Cleaning, cooking, laundry, they've got it all covered, you just lay there and look pretty. Cooks you your favorite food and puts on your favorite movie for you to watch while you both cuddle under the covers. Hates seeing you in pain, so they rub your stomach as well to try and help you feel a bit better.

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta x reader #ray.writes #ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #eyeless jack #jeff the killer #ben drowned #ben drowned x reader #eyeless jack x reader #jeff the killer x reader #masky #masky x reader #hoodie #hoodie x reader #oc.lane hellshire #creepypasta oc

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whumpofalltime · 8 months

Text

friends, enemies, lurkers, we've made it to the

Whump Of All Time Finals!

What's the whumpiest whump of all time? Help us decide!

Find links and propaganda under the cut. Quarterfinalist and later match-ups are untagged, so your votes and reblogs matter! Make sure you click through to the main blog to find the run-off poll to crown third place, as well!

ROTK:

(spider attack, rescue)

"The Lord of The Rings, when Frodo gets bitten by a giant spider and left for dead by Sam at the end of The Two Towers, and then when Sam finds him in The Return of the King being held prisoner and whipped by an orc."

The Young Blood Chronicles (Save Rock and Roll's music videos, Fall Out Boy):

(link)

"Everyone gets bloodied, bruised, beaten up, tortured, rescued, limbs are amputated - it's brutal. Alone Together is particularly strong."

sorry for being late, but you want YBC propaganda? then you're getting YBC propaganda. I know you're a FOB fan, but I will be writing this for the benefit of those who don't know what YBC is, for better propaganda purposes! and yeah this is gonna be LONG. sorry.

So! The Youngblood Chronicles (shortened to YBC) is a series of 11 music videos made by the band Fall Out Boy, for their album Save Rock And Roll (you know this album, it's the one with My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark on it). The whole thing is quite short, less than fifty minutes long (even shorter if you don't count the uncut version's credits!!), and every single music video has some element of whump in it. This propaganda is gonna break down each individual music vid, and at i'll also talk a little bit about the irl context the album was written in, and why even THAT can be a little bit whumpy if you're insane like me!

(note: i'm going in the original release order over the uncut order, hence why i'm starting with MSKWYDITD instead of The Phoenix)

My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark: Arguably the least whump-y out of all of them, but man, seeing all of Fall Out Boy's discography and memorabilia be burnt while people are dancing around the destruction? Man, when you know the real life stuff (the reception the band had in 2009, leading to them to take a three year hiatus)... and at the end, you see four guys bound in the back of a van!! And that van is getting burnt!! Burn everything you love and burn the... ashes.

The Phoenix: NOW here's the first of MANY whump tastes you'll get. Patrick Stump, the singer/cutie of the band, gets kidnapped, tied to a chair, has his hand CHOPPED OFF and mailed to his bandmate/best friend Pete Wentz, then gets tied down and utterly tortured by women who are laughing at his misery the entire time, getting prodded and stabbed by tools for... well, you'll see. By the end of the video, Pete and the other two members of FOB (Joe Trohman and Andy Hurley) have been kidnapped by these mysterious women too, with Pete specifically getting kidnapped by the blonde woman he was in bed with when Patrick's hand got delivered to him. If you enjoy cute boys getting tied down, covered in blood, and writhing around like worms while getting tortured... well you'll enjoy all of YBC but specifically you'll enjoy this!! I did :D! The war is won, before it's begun, release the doves, surrender love...

Young Volcanoes: Good news, FOB has been reunited! Bad news, by the women who dismembered Patrick! And now all the band members are tied to chairs, hooked up to IVs full of god knows what types of drugs, and blindfolded (all except Patrick). They are then forced to drink, snort hard drugs, and are force fed Patrick's organs! Yep, all four of them are forced to eat their lead singer's guts, and are so fucking drugged up they don't even realize what's happening (and now you know what the women were doing to him in the last mv, and you even get a nice little shot of the hack job of stitching him back up)!! Patrick hallucinates everyone having fun, but of course, at the end, all of them are knocked out because of the drugs. Americana, exotica, do you wanna feel a little beautiful baby?

Alone Together: This is the song the OG propaganda mentioned, and for good reason. All four of them are shipped off into little personalized torture rooms, and, well, tortured! Pete is able to break out and even steals the hook from the girl who was torturing him, but little does he know that'll be his own undoing... also, in general, this song has some whumpy elements, specifically the line "my heart is like a stallion/they love it more when it's broke-in"... but notice how easy it is to hear "broke-in" as "broken"! At the end of the video, Pete is at least able to find Patrick (Joe and Andy have NOT been having a good time, either!! But sadly, they aren't found by Pete, but Pete DOES find Big Sean), and is even able to attach the hook to the stump (ha!) where his hand used to be. But something is clearly wrong with Patrick now. His eyes are yellow, and as the song ends, we hold on him, sneering and twitching. This is the road to ruin - and we're started at the end...

The Mighty Fall: First off if you say this is the worst song off of SRAR I will hunt you for sport. OKAY ANYWAYS, chronologically this comes after MSKWYDITD, and yeah, the four guys are the members of FOB. Pete is able to free himself with Patrick's new hook hand, and is able to get the other three out while Pete is hacking up a lung from the fire they just barely escaped. But they're not done getting their shit rocked yet. A gang of children show up (the leader being the kid Patrick waved at right before he was kidnapped back in the Phoenix MV), and proceed to separate them and beat the living shit out of them. The leader kid who's chasing Patrick plays something on a boombox... which triggers Patrick to go yellow-eyed again (from here on out i'll call it "going Youngblood" or "Youngblood self"). It was confirmed in the commentary track that ANY music would cause him to go Youngblood. And knowing Patrick IRL fucking loves to create/compose music... yeah! Take something he loves and turn it into something that drives him insane!! I'm normal!! And also the irl parallel you could draw to his solo career doing the same thing to him (on a less uh Dramatic level but you know)!!! Ouch!!!! Big Sean is able to save Patrick, but at the cost of his own life (and a killer rap verse... HELL YEAH I'M A DICK GIRL, ADDICTED TO YOU). Oh, how the mighty fall in love...

Just One Yesterday: The last vestiges of comfort you're gonna get for a WHILE. The four are separated, getting even more beaten up, Pete vomits up a snake, Andy gets his shit rocked by a homeless guy, Joe has to use white sheets as a makeshift tourniquet bc his leg got fucked up in The Mighty Fall MV, and Patrick is picked up by a kind stranger (hi Foxes! you have a very pretty voice! PLEASE KEEP YOUR HANDS ON THE STEERING WHEEL!). And finally, finally we get a hope spot. Fall Out Boy is reunited (the part where Andy just grabs onto Patrick's arm, in disbelief they're both alive... augh!!! AUGH!!!!), and for a moment, it seems they've been delivered to a hospital... before Foxes' eyes go completely black, looking at Patrick... and turns on the radio. She's able to trigger the Youngblood. And now Patrick is gone. The other three scramble into the hospital, Patrick not far behind, determined to kill them to stop the noise in his head. If Heaven's grief brings Hell's reign, then I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday...

Where Did The Party Go: Patrick, now fully consumed by the Youngblood brainwashing, is now stalking his bandmates in a hospital. Patrick is seeing visions of the hospital as an abandoned party, Andy has to painfully disinfect the wounds he's gotten, Pete is able to call for the police, and Joe... oh, poor Joe. He barricades himself into a room, but not well enough. Patrick finds him, and kills him, slitting his throat with the hook hand, showing no remorse at all... until Andy and Pete find them. The Youngblood wears off, and Patrick looks to what he's done, and is horrified at what he's done to his friend. And, bad news for him, the police are here, ready to arrest the murderer. All Andy and Pete can do is watch as tears roll down Patrick's eyes. And for the extra IRL context, this was the first song written for the album that made Pete and Patrick realize they had to get FOB back together... so lets match that with a music video where the member who helped get the band together in the first place dies. By the hands of the kid he found. Let's fade away together, one dream at a time...

Death Valley: Joe gets... uh, a little comfort? I mean, he thinks he's getting sent to heaven but goes to hell, buuuuut I think doing drugs in rock and roll hell with Tommy Lee is actually a pretty sweet deal, better than the deal the other three got! Pete and Andy are being interrogated while Patrick is in a jail cell. We find out that the cult that kidnapped them, Silence the Noise, is lead by Pete's girlfriend from WAAAAY back in the Phoenix MV, Courtney Love. And at the end of the MV... Patrick is bailed out of jail by Silence the Noise. They have him again. And this time, they're not gonna let him walk out until he's fully under their control. 'Cause tonight it's just fire alarms and losing you...

Rat a Tat: Silence the Noise has Patrick, and they utterly brainwash him, A Clockwork Orange style, with electroshock stimulation to keep him from looking away or closing his eyes, until there is nothing left. Patrick Stump does not exist anymore. Only the Youngblood, pliant under the control of Silence the Noise, tasked to destroy what he once loved; music. Andy dies at the hands of the cult, and now Pete has to protect a briefcase, the thing that got them into this mess, and keep it away from Silence the Noise, all while his best friend hunts him down. Are you ready for another bad poem?

Miss Missing You: THE WHUMPIEST OF THE WHUMP. What if we were best friends but you've been driven insane and I know the only way to stop you is to kill you and it was my fault you got into this mess and I was the one who gave you the weapon that will be my own undoing. What if we both died at the same time. What if we died, both of us failing the mission we had before us. What if that was a reference to one of their first music videos. What if this song was originally written for Patrick's solo album but he realized it was more of a Fall Out Boy song so it was scrapped until now. What if there's a legit argument to be made that half the lyrics for this song was written by Patrick. What if we were both boys. Grips walls, yeha i'm normal. If you don't watch ANY other music vid, watch Miss Missing You. Sometimes before it gets better, the darkness gets bigger. The person that you'd take a bullet for is behind the trigger.

Save Rock And Roll: And our final track gives us a final bit of comfort. Patrick is able to overcome the Youngblood, and gets into heaven, where all of FOB is finally, finally reunited. God (aka Elton John) gives them new instruments and brings them back to earth, so they can do what they love; play music together. Which just so happens to release people from the control of Silence the Noise! But, because we can't have nice things, a cult within Silence the Noise got a hold of the briefcase, and summoned a spirit that starts to kill everyone. FOB stands together, and blasts the evil spirit, the blood coming up to the gates of heaven and covering Elton John in it. And... that's how it ends. No true resolution. Just Elton John covered in blood, as the song fades out. Oh, no! Wherever I go, go! Trouble seems to follow! I only plugged in to save rock and roll!

UH. AGAIN I APOLOGIZE FOR THE LENGTH. but i really wanted to express just how much WHUMP they manage to fit into less than fifty minutes, all backed by an amazing album colored by the three years they were apart. colored by how they grew, colored by how bad the hiatus was for Patrick specifically, colored by how Confessions of a Pariah got Pete to reach out to help him, and this album came out of it, Fall Out Boy came back out of it, and now here we are, ten years later, with the title track being performed every night for their concert, with all the band singing the final lines together, and the line you are what you love, not who loves you hitting every single night.

SORRY. LISTEN TO FALL OUT BOY. thanks for letting me rant.

#final round #tournament poll

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queenie-avenue · 3 months

Note

Ok hear me out👉👈

Katie finding out (in this case she got friendzoned LOL) that Reader is in a relationship with someone else?? How do u think she takes it??

I've been such a lurker for quite some time and i love ur content sm 🥺🥺🥺🥺 *sending kisses*

Rejection is never the End.

💌 ⤻ THE CHEERLEADER, KATIE WILLIAMS

—> she won't ever give up on you.

⤻ reader is gender neutral, reader has a girlfriend, no cheating, manipulation, possessiveness, obsession, typical yandere behaviour, gaslighting, reader gets drunk and katie takes advantage of her

notes: thank you so much for the ask, I'm so sorry it's taken so long for me to get to this!! no proof-reading, we die.

🦋⤻ archives.

If you have a significant other, Katie will no doubt be furious, especially if you reveal it to her just when she decided to confess to you, of all things. She will be pissed off, but will just smile at you and pretend that everything is a-okay. You wouldn't even suspect a thing.

Sure, at first it'd be awkward with you and her drifting just a bit — which causes her to almost have a meltdown and abandon her cheer captain duties for a while — but eventually after a month of two, you both would go back to normal.

The difference would be that now she had access to your relationship status.

And boy, would she make use of it.

Out of consideration for her feelings, you'd of course not talk much about your significant other but Katie, Katie wanted to know.

It started small, she liked to visit your dorm normally so it was a usual day of her coming to see you after cheer practice in her short shorts and pink t-shirts.

“Oh, those flowers are so cute, did your girlfriend get them for you?” Katie asked, lounging on your desk as she stroked the petals of the bouquet filled with your favourite flowers. “They are so pretty!” She squealed, grinning at you as you sat on your bed.

“Yeah, my girlfriend came over just the other day. It was fun.” You smiled back, wanting to keep details of your beau brief out of respect and love for Katie.

“Does she get you flowers often?” Katie inquired, eyes fixated on the flowers, back turned to you now.

“Not really. It was just a special occasion yesterday, our one year anniversary.” You exclaimed, clearly giddy about the fact you had been together with your girlfriend for a year.

“Fun.” She replied, tutting her plump lips. “So, why didn't I know about her? I mean, you showed me pictures once but you don't really tall about her that much.” Katie commented as she leaned towards you.

“We don't talk about our relationship much…” You mumbled. “I mean- she's like secretive about it. So not a lot of people know.” You shrugged your shoulders awkwardly. Oh, [y/n], you really were such a horrible liar. Katie could tell in an instant that the idea of you relationship being kept secret made you antsy, uncomfortable. If it were *her* that was your girlfriend, she'd be parading you around proudly. Why couldn't you see that?

“Huh.” She huffed, eyeing you up and down.

That was how it started.

She made use of your insecurities about your relationship with your girlfriend and weaponised them against you. Slowly, you grew more worried about whether the reason your girlfriend didn't want to reveal your relationship was because she wasn't proud to be with you, or she wasn't committed to being with you or worst, that she was being unfaithful towards you. Katie didn't help matters, subtly showing you those stupid YouTube shorts with reddit stories that talked about how people who didn't make their relationships known typically cheated on their partners.

You slowly spiralled into madness, growing resentful of your girlfriend and more appreciative of Katie. Eventually, you would break it off with your girlfriend when things became too hard for the both of you.

You kept starting arguments with your girlfriend over why she wanted to keep the relationship a secret, you became too needy for her validation and she was annoyed with you constantly picking fights with her and also your budding relationship with Katie who seemed to find a way to antagonise your girlfriend every single time. Katie egged you on, overanalysing each word your girlfriend said or texted to you and reporting what she thought back to you. Most of which just made you view your girlfriend in a horrible light.

Eventually, you broke up with your girlfriend.

Just like Katie wanted.

She would soon swoop in to comfort you, tell you that it wasn't your fault that the relationship didn't work. Your girlfriend was the red flag, you didn't do anything wrong!

“Come on, pom-pom. Cheer up, you'll find someone much better than her. You were too good for her ass anyway.” Smiled Katie as she dragged you for a night of partying at a fraternity.

You got wasted, of course; attempting to drown out the sorrow of your freshly opened wounds.

Katie's hand snaked around your waist as you danced to the beat of the music, the loud thumps banging loudly in your ear as you drunkenly relied on the cheerleader for support. Before you knew it, the dancing morphed into Katie pulling you into the bathroom, your legs wrapped around her waist as she leaned closer into you, both sat on the counter of the toilet. The vague sounds of people banging the door outside as you both gazed into each others’ eyes. “You feeling better?” She asked, dark eyes looking into yours intensely.

“I… I still miss her.” You slurred, slumping your body into Katie's neck, letting out a dry sob. The cheerleader hummed as she placed a hand on your waist, another under your chin.

“You don't need to think about her anymore, okay? I'm here for you.” She pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

Katie knew that you loved her, everyone did. It's just that your girlfriend was in the way. Now that she's not, you can be devoted to loving her, and only her.

#yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere blog #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #anon ask #ask #yandere female x reader #yandere female #female yandere x reader #female yandere #yandere fic #yandere ask blog #yandere asks

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 1 year

Note

LOVING ‘THE OTHER HALF’! You literally write Bruce so perfectly… lowkey curious to see what would happen if the reader finds out he’s The Batman… 🫣

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

Length: 3.9K

Warnings: Some angst; Bruce Wayne’s Top Notch Communication Skills and secret keeping; canon-typical violence

You’d thought—well, you’d hoped—that as time went on, the questions would go away. You’d hoped that his behavior would make me even more sense.

It hasn’t.

If anything, your perception of Bruce has become incredibly confusing. You enjoy your time with him, no matter what the two of you get up to—dinner, parties with his friends or your friends, a night in. More often than not, it’s a night in. After the incident at work, your boss started sticking you with opening shifts. The commute’s way less cantankerous from Bruce’s place, and you’re happy to spend the nights with him, anyway. You sleep better when he’s there.

The problem is, he’s usually not there.

You always fall asleep with him, but you have awoken on more than one occasion to an empty bed, and an empty penthouse. You’ve texted Bruce on those nights, but his phone has always rung in the apartment. He leaves it sitting on the coffee table. Where the hell does he go without it? Does he have a burner phone? What kind of weird-rich-guy-eyes-wide-shut bullshit is he getting up to that he’s leaving his phone in the apartment for…Hours? You love him, but whatever it is that he’s keeping a secret is beginning to tear your apart.

You want to ask. You have been dying to ask, but it just never feels like the right time.

“You and Brucie have been alright?”

“Oh,” You flounder as Liz nudges your hip with hers, waiting expectantly for your answer. Your hands still over the nibbles that you were putting out on a tray before you resume mechanically loading the spinach puffs that you made. “It’s—Yeah, we’re good.”

“When are you going to move in?”

“What?” You splutter a laugh, unable to help it. “Why would I—Did he say something to you?”

“Oh,” Liz raises her hands in defense. “Sorry. He said you were staying over a lot, you know.”

“I mean, I have. He’s stayed at mine, too. He’s not moving in with me—definitely not moving in with me, Mish would never stand for it,” You taper off in a mumble.

“Mish?”

“My roommate, Michelle.”

“I didn’t know you had a roommate.”

“Mhm!”

“Does she work in a store, too?”

It feels like a loaded question, and it’s one that you would’ve taken as a jab when you first met Liz. But sometimes you realize that Bruce and his friends live so far above the average Gothamite that they don’t know what it's like to have to live from paycheck to paycheck, in narrow, badly lit apartments that most of your paycheck from your cruddy job goes to. You’re determined not to take offense when they make stupid, probably accidental demeaning comments.

“Nope!” You chirp. “She’s an administrative assistant at a marketing agency.”

“Oh! Could you do something like that?”

You smile a touch tightly, your irritation welling. You’re certain that one was on purpose.

“You know what, Liz, I think if I really wanted to, I could do just about anything.”

“Are you two still gabbing in here?”

You glance back at the sound of Bruce’s question, smiling sincerely at the sight of him.

“We’re just catching up, having girl chat. Don’t be such a lurker, Wayne,” Liz scolds. She takes the tray that you’ve organized, shooting you a wink before heading for the living room. You lean back against the counter, crossing your arms over your chest. Bruce reaches out, snagging one of the spinach puffs from Liz as she passes him. You smile as he takes a bite of the morsel, then grunts and shoves the rest of the bite into his mouth, sucking some melted feta off of his thumb.

“Tasty?” You tease.

“Very. Where’d you get the recipe?” He asks through the mouthful before he swallows.

“My mom.”

“Mm. Thank her for me.”

“Sure,” You chuckle.

“What were you two talking about?” Bruce asks, bracing his hands on the counter behind you.

“Nothing. Just…Like Liz said, girl stuff.”

Bruce’s eyes narrow a touch as they wander your face. Then, “She said something about your job again, didn’t she.”

“She kinda did.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll talk to her.”

“It’s alright. If it really starts to bother me, I’ll talk to her about it myself.”

“You sure?”

“I’m positive. But thank you.” You reach up, straightening Bruce’s collar. You go still as you spot the blooming of an angry purple bruise on his skin. You know that it isn’t anything you’ve seen before, that it certainly wasn’t anything you could’ve inflicted. It turns your stomach. What the hell has he been getting up to?

The question sits on your lips, but before you can say a thing, a thud comes from the other room. The sound makes your heart jolt, but you calm when it's chased by raucous laughter. You and Bruce turn your heads toward the sound, and you lower your hand from his shirt, folding your arms against your chest.

“What do you think that was?” Bruce asks.

“I don’t know, but they don’t don't strike me as the type to break out the Twister mat.”

Bruce chuckles before he turns back toward you, his hands resting on your hips. When you don't reach for him in kind, he crowds closer, his smile faltering.

“What is it?” He plies, tipping his head.

“Hm?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” You answer too quickly. You know it by the way Bruce’s frown deepens.

“What’s wrong?” His question has more of a concerned edge to it now.

“Nothing is wrong,” You insist, speaking with a pointed slowness. “I’m just…” You search Bruce’s face, taking in the genuine, concerned expression on his face.

Your questions are all crowding on your lips, threatening to spring forward. Where the hell does Bruce go at night? And how does he know the intimate details of things he oughtn’t? You’ve checked the recording of your interview from the store’s attempted burglary. There was no mention of the route that you and the burglar took to the back office—not from you, and not from the reporter, or your manager. There was no way for Bruce to know where the office was, unless he’d asked your manager—but if he had, she would’ve gushed to you about his speaking with her.

What lie will he use this time? Spelunking, again? Base-jumping, maybe? You search for the words, drawing in a deep breath. You care so deeply for this man, but you can’t trust him.

“I—” You start, then go quiet, raising a hand and scrubbing it over your face, breathing, “Fuck, I can’t do this anymore.”

"Can't do what?" Bruce reaches up, cupping your jaw and tipping your head toward him as worry twists his face. “Hey, look at me. What’s going on?”

“Bruce, I—”

You freeze, stunned as you hear another loud pop in the hall, chased by the thudding of boots, and a yell of, “Get on the ground!”

Before you can even think to react, Bruce draws you close, tugging you toward the island and pulling the two of you down to hide behind the counter, his head resting protectively on your head. Your heart drops into your churning stomach, fingers grasping nervously at him. The two of you listen as the boots thunder past you, down the hall, to where Liz and the others are screaming and panicking. Bruce peers over the counter slowly, looking around before he draws you up. You half-stumble after him with nervous feet, watching as he yanks a kitchen knife out of the holder and opening the pantry. He practically shoves you in, pressing the handle of the knife into your hand and warning, “Keep quiet, stay here.”

“What?” You breathe, “No, nonono, Bruce, don’t—” You wince as he shoves the pantry door shut. You can just see through the slats that he’s running out of the kitchen. You stand trembling in the pantry, both hands wrapped around the knife's handle. You can hear footsteps, and a few more yelled orders before—

You yelp as the kitchen is plunged into darkness before you slap your hand over your mouth, as if you can snatch the sound from the air and shove it back inside. Your hand shakes, palms and fingers sweating around the knife. Your body is wracked with the same panic that you felt at work. You hear a yelp, a shout, a gunshot, and a few more screams. It’s another moment before you hear someone run into the kitchen. Your heart stills in your chest, your breath catching in your throat. You flinch as you hear and see the flash of a gunshot. It’s closely followed by the grunting and groans of someone being beaten. They’re shoved into the counter next, and you hear the rattle of things being swept off of the counter.

“Who are you?”

The question is gruff and sharp—the vigilante's tone is low, growling. You frown. You know it. You know that sound. You know that voice. You’ve heard it in rare occasions, in far more exciting moments—amorous moments in rooms that are often just as dark. You find yourself stepping closer, straining your ear to catch on the gruff voice again, over the babbling, panicked incoherence of the begging burglar.

You close your eyes despite the dark of the room, taking in the sound of the voice. You know it—Oh, god you know it—

“We just picked this random spot, man, we didn’t know who was in here!” The burglar swore.

“And it just so happened that you weren’t otherwise occupied?”

Occupied.

Your jaw drops open as your mind flashes to one of Liz’s bathrooms—to your hand smoothing a condom over Bruce’s length as he yells over his shoulder that the bathroom is occupied. There’s a pause, the clang of metal hitting bone, and the dull thud of a body falling to the floor. Before you can stop yourself, you yank the door open and hiss, “Bruce?”

The kitchen is silent and still. The loudest sound is the thudding of your heart.

“Get back inside.”

Your knees go weak. It’s Bruce’s voice. But there’s no way he would’ve had time for someone else to leave, for Bruce to come in.

“Get back inside,” He urges again. You take a few panicked steps back into the pantry, yanking the door shut again. Your hand holds tightly to the knife, your mind whirling with your revelation.

When the cops find you, you’re still crouching in the pantry, a knife in your hand and tears in your eyes. Liz is a mess, insisting that Bruce has been kidnapped. You cover and reassure her—tell her that he couldn’t have been, that he left the kitchen right after he ate the spinach puff, that he’s probably back at the penthouse.

Frankly, you’re not sure wherever the hell he might be, but hey. That’s nothing new.

He gets back to the penthouse at three in the morning.

You’re probably not as startled as you should be, but you’re still wired and awake. You've spent the last few hours talking yourself in and out of the revelation. You didn't see who it was—you couldn't. The voice is familiar, sure, but you've heard audio recordings of Batman on the news, and it's wholly possible that someone just sounds like Bruce. You have grappled for every justification, every possibility, but in your heart, and in your gut, you know the truth.

You haven’t gotten a single call or a text from Bruce since the incident, and you look up to find Batman standing in the entryway of the apartment. You hesitate before you push yourself off of the couch. You take a few slow steps toward him, hands flexing nervously at your sides. He keeps quiet and still, as if he’s still hidden within the shadows. You take another step closer, closing the gap between the two of you. You raise your shaking hands carefully, resting your hands on his helmet. You gently lift it away, watching as it ruffles his hair. Your eyes sweep him—his tensed jaw, the darkness around his eyes.

It’s surreal. You’ve known—you’ve suspected for the last few hours, but to see it now—to see Bruce in armor, to find the man you love behind the mask—

“Okay,” You manage, turning away from him and drawing in a deep breath to try and steady your wildly pounding heart. “Okay.”

Your hands flex in the material of the mask, and you look down at it, tipping it to and fro.

"Did you just have this stashed somewhere near Liz's?"

"No. I left by the fire stairs."

"And went where?"

"I had to go rattle a few cages."

“...It's been you the whole time?” You ask.

“Yes.”

“So what happened at the shop—”

“I knew.”

“And you came to mine and just acted like you had no idea?”

“I had to make sure you were alright.”

You stare down at the helmet, fingers sweeping over it. It’s so heavy.

“...Who else knows?” You ask.

“Alfred.”

“Of course.”

“And someone at Wayne Enterprises. Lucius Fox.”

“Anyone else?”

“...I told you about Rachel.”

You nod, muttering, “Right.” Your fingers flex around the helmet. “How the hell did this—How did it start?”

“...Can we talk after I take this off?”

You glance back and find him gesturing to his body. You nod, holding the helmet out to him. Bruce hesitates before he takes it. He doesn’t go. He just looks over you. You shake your head a touch.

“What?” You ask.

“Are you alright?”

For all of your muddled feelings, a little bit of your anger and confusion melts. “Yes. Are you?”

Bruce nods a little before he turns away fully, eyeing the mask in his hands as he heads down the hall. You can only resist the urge to follow for a few moments. You stand in the doorway of his bedroom, watching the shades come down. He glances back at the sound of you before he begins to remove his armor. You tip your head to the side, watching him shove a row of suits in his closet aside and open a panel on the wall, jabbing a few buttons before you hear a hiss. You watch him step inside and out of sight.

This could still be fake, right? This could still be fake. He could’ve just used his, like, millions of dollars to get an exact replica of the suit…But it wouldn’t explain why he knew exactly what had happened at the shop. It would explain his weird bruises, his nighttime disappearances.

You straighten up as you hear Bruce come back, watch him tugging his sweatpants up and over his hips. He’s facing away from you, opening a dresser drawer. You pass the closet as you approach him, just catching sight of the suit descending before the back panel slides closed, obscuring the compartment from view.

You can see Bruce's body clearly now, for the first time—and it’s beyond bruising. There are scratches and marks riddling his back and sides. Most of them seem old, and faded. You can see the span of the bruise—the radiating bloom of it spreading from his neck, stretching to the slope of his shoulder. You reach out hesitantly, resting your hands on his hips. He goes still—in tension, confusion, you’re not sure. You crowd up close, brushing a gentle kiss to the tender skin. His shoulders relax under the carress, his body leaning back into yours just a little. You smooth your hands gently over the ridges of his abs, nuzzling into his neck.

You watch Bruce raise his hand, reaching for the light switch.

“Don’t,” You mumble. When he goes still, you tip your chin up, lips brushing the shell of his ear:

“I wanna see you.”

Bruce glances guardedly at you over his shoulder before he dips his head. He lowers hand to rest on yours, gently prying it from him. Your stomach flips nervously, then settles as Bruce slowly turns to face you. You can’t help the way your eyes skate and wander his torso, catching on each additional bruise, each fading scar. You raise your hands, gently running them down over his shoulders. You shiver as Bruce raises his in turn, smoothing them up your back.

You crowd closer, pressing your face into Bruce’s neck. He curls his arms around you, nuzzling your temple. You press another careful kiss to the bruise, squeezing your eyes shut as your emotions swell sharply. It’s almost too much to take, knowing that this man who spends his days among Gotham’s elite, grinning at paps, feigning ignorance and carelessness, spends his nights trying to make the city a safer place. You lean back from him, raising your hands to hide your face, and the prickling of tears in your eyes. Bruce doesn’t immediately tug you back in—he gives you some space. You draw in a shaky breath, clearing your face and scrubbing at your face to try to stave the tears off.

“Okay,” You mumble. “Okay. I need a drink, and you—” You wave in his direction, “You need to talk.”

It takes him time—time that clearly pains him, that he doesn’t seem to want to take. The two of you sit on opposite ends of his couch. He’s sprawled out across the cushions; you’re scrunched up on the other side, leg bouncing anxiously. When he comes to a stop, he’s staring down at his hands. It’s only a moment before he tacks on,

“I’m sorry.”

You frown, shaking your head. It’s confusing. What the hell is he sorry for? Lying?

“I shouldn’t have let you find out. I think it may be best if we…Part ways.”

Your gaze lifts to his, brows knitted.

“...Are you kidding me?” You ask after a moment.

“No, I’m not—”

“Oh—” You laugh, stunned, unable to help yourself, springing off of the couch with all of your nervous, pent-up energy. “Oh, that is bullshit, Bruce.”

“It is not bullshit!” He barks back. “It’s for your safety!”

“If you wanted me to be safe, you wouldn’t have said a word in the kitchen. You would’ve just gone on your way—or kept using that—that stupid gruff sex voice you use—”

“Sex voice?”

“You know, that,” You scrunch your face up, “That, you know, when you—” You clear your throat and lower your voice, letting out a garbled, growling noise.

“I do not sound like that.”

“You have before. Like, more than once.”

“It is not a sex voice.”

“And it is bullshit, for the record,” You add again, planting your hands on your hips. “If you really, really wanted to cover it, you would’ve stayed in the apartment for when the cops got there, faked that you were as freaked out as everyone else. Or you would’ve come back to the apartment in your regular clothes and told me you’d just stepped out for some air and the cops had kept you from coming back inside. You’re as tired of hiding this from me as I am of you hiding it.”

Bruce’s face falls, and he shifts in his seat to brace his elbows on his thighs, looking down at his empty hands.

“I didn’t know that you knew something was…Off,” Bruce admits softly.

“Not a clue?”

“A few hints, but I didn’t think it was about the suit.”

“...Okay, two things,” You close your eyes, holding up two fingers as you gather your thoughts. “It’s not just about the suit, it is about what you do in the suit. I get why now, but—You know.”

“What’s the other thing?”

“What the heck did you think I was off about?”

“I know you’re not stupid. I know you’ve seen some of the blood, some of the bruises. Guess I thought I’d covered it well enough.”

You can’t help but scoff.

“With what?” You ask incredulously. “The polo, the base-jumping, the spelunking, or the invisible shaving cuts?”

“Alright,” Bruce groans, running his hand through his hair. You’re quiet for a moment, looking him over before you turn away from him.

You can’t tell him not to do it. You can’t pretend that Batman hasn’t done good for this city, or that you haven’t been at the receiving end of it, seen it firsthand. If it had been different—if Bruce had come to you with the idea of an undertaking of the sort, rather than having already established himself as a vigilante—you would’ve told him that it was a ghastly idea, that he’d have himself killed in a day. Still, knowing what Bruce gets up to, night after night, is making your stomach squirm.

You hear the creak of him rising off of the couch, then feel him coming up behind you.

“Look,” He sighs, “Batman doesn’t exactly have friends in this city. If you’re linked to him, you could get hurt.”

You’re quiet for a moment, biting your lip.

“I doubt I could ever be linked to Batman when I’m not even linked to Bruce Wayne,” You counter.

Bruce reaches out, resting his hands on your hips, tugging you back. You wobble, then sway back into him a little reluctantly. You stare down at the floor, considering.

You could still cut ties. Your acquaintance is early enough that it wouldn’t raise eyebrows among his friends, or your parents—and, all things considered, maybe Alfred.

“If you want me out of here, tell me,” You finally say, just managing to hide your dismay.

“It’s—” Bruce starts before he sighs heavily, grip tightening on you. “I want you safe.”

“I’m safe with you.”

Bruce curls his arms around your middle, pressing his face into your shoulder. “But what if, one day, you’re not?”

You glance down at Bruce. You find his eyes squeezed shut, his face twisted in upset and fear. You go quiet for a moment, then rest your head against his, closing your eyes. You can’t blame him for the assumption. He lost his parents to the city. He doesn’t want to lose you, too.

You turn in his arms, curling your arms around his shoulders and drawing him in. Bruce burrows close, fingers grasping desperately at your shirt. You press a kiss to his head, combing your fingers through his hair. Bruce takes his time straightening before he cups your cheeks, smoothing his thumbs over your cheekbones. He takes in your face slowly, as if it’ll be the last time. You draw a deep breath in through your nose, steadying yourself. Oh, no.

“Can we go to bed?” You plead before he can say anything else. “Talk about this more in the morning?”

Bruce hesitates, then nods, mumbles, “Alright.”

Bruce takes his time joining you under the covers. You let yourself watch him, and think. You’re almost afraid to go to sleep. You’re almost afraid for the sun to come up. You can’t fathom what he’ll say then.

But tonight, when he shuts the lights off, he leaves the blinds up. You can make him out in the dim light of the room as he lays down beside you, as the two of you settle down on your sides and watch one another. You reach out, resting your hand on his cheek as he takes your other hand in his. He nuzzles into your touch, his eyes slipping closed. You see him take in a deep breath, then push it out slowly.

For the first time since you’ve known him, Bruce looks completely relaxed. He’s not shrouded or hidden from you. Your stomach flutters with butterflies as he turns his head, brushing his lips against your palm.

Next Part

#Bruce Wayne x Reader #Bruce Wayne x You #Bruce Wayne/Reader #Bruce Wayne/You #Bruce Wayne fic #Bruce Wayne imagine #The Other Way

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cookeybg · 2 months

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Unexpected Cohabitation a JonDami fic

Before we get to the story I have a few words to say...

First of all, Hello!

Not sure if this will reach anyone, but I had an itch to write, so I did. I almost never post anything. I have reposted a couple things but I'm mostly a lurker and enjoy others creativity and thoughts, I like to think of myself as a cat with few brain cells.

Anyways, I read a manga YEARS ago and enjoyed it greatly and thought to myself, "Wouldn't it be funny/interesting if Jon and Damian were stuck in this situation?" Let's see if anyone eventually gets what manga I was reminiscing.

Now, this is the first time I've ever posted anything I've written and I am not confident AT ALL if this is going to be any good, but I really hope someone out there enjoys reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it...Also not sure if I should post it on Ao3???

Well enough of my ramblings on to the story.

Title: Unexpected Cohabitation

Main Characters: Jonathan Kent and Damian Wayne (some of the others show up too, the list is too long)

Eventual relationship: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne (my fave)

Stuff to know: No capes, reverse robins, high school AU, no smut, no Brucie Wayne, I know nothing about sports but it will show up, (aaand I think that's it, will add more if it comes up)

Part 1 - Chapter 1

Jon placed his lunch tray next to Kathys’ as he discreetly looked around the lunch room trying to catch a glimpse of his crush. He had only briefly seen him at the mall during summer break and in a panic hid from him behind a rack of clothes. He had regretted not saying hello and had daydreams of himself going up to him, all cool and complementing the brown eyed boy’s pink fluffy hair and then asking him out to watch a movie at the mall theater. Sadly, the daydreams would come crashing down when he remembered his mother placing shirts in front of him and trying to measure him up before heading into the dressing room. It’s not that he was embarrassed of his mom its just, he was wearing sweats and an old hoodie since none of his clothes fit him anymore due to his growth spurt and, well, his mom could be a bit much, sometimes. Throughout the whole shopping trip when she would meet an acquaintance or friend she kept gushing about how quick kids grew and how she wished they would just stop sometimes. Jon would have to bury himself if anyone from school had been exposed to that.

“Looking for Jay?” Kathy asked. Jon looked at Kathy like a deer caught in the headlights and immediately turned red. He sat down abruptly causing his tray to nearly tip unto him. He scrambled to right his milk carton before it fell. Once settled, he sighed and mumbled, “That obvious?” Kathy smirked and bit into her carrot stick making a loud snap. Jon squirmed while opening his milk carton, he took a big swing, pointedly ignoring Kathy’s stare. “Why don’t you just confess?” Kathy asked. “Confess?” Jon spluttered, “He doesn’t even know I exist!” “Jon, you two were in the same history class last year. He knows who you are.” “Yeah. But we never talked.” “Then, how about you talk to him?” That would be so awkward…” Jon bit into his chicken strip. Kathy rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation. Jon smirked and leaned in conspiratorially, “But I have a plan.” “And that is?” “I’m joining the journalism club.” “What!” Kathy yelled in surprise and then moderated her voice when some people who she startled glared at her, “ I thought you were going to join the baseball team this year, since, you know, your not in a cast anymore.” “The doctor has given the all clear and physical therapy is all done. The doctor was very impressed with how quickly I healed.” “Will they even let you do both clubs?” “Yep, I asked!” Their conversation was cut short when a murmur spread through the cafeteria like a wave. The main players of the baseball team stepped through the open double doors, all nine wearing their letterman jackets. In the lead was the most popular guy in school, Damian Wayne. Whose father was nicknamed the Prince of Gotham. Who in turn married an actual princess from some far off land, giving Damian actual royal blood. Girls wanted him and guys wanted to be him, but from what Jon had heard, guys wanted him too. Damian’s bright green eyes stood out against his brown skin, his gold earring glinted under the florescent light. He scanned the cafeteria with what looked like a sense of boredom. Colin, Jon called him Damian’s second in command, had one arm casually draped around Damian’s shoulders gesticulating wildly with his free hand. The group laughed at whatever the Colin said, but Damian only smiled as he started walking towards their unofficial table. Colin and the rest of the group broke off shoving and cracking jokes at each other while making line to pick up food. Kathy whistled beside Jon, “Now he’s someone who doesn’t know you exist.” “He looks and probably is, conceited.” Jon said offhandedly. “Look at him, he has reason to be.” “Doesn’t mean it’s cool.” “Doesn’t mean he’s not hot.” Jon turned to look at Kathy, but she wasn’t paying attention to him. Instead she was looking in Damian’s direction. Jon looked around and noticed that many were doing the same. He dragged his eyes back to look at Damian. The dude sat straight backed, elegantly eating his homemade meal from some fancy lunch bag that was probably more expensive than anything Jon owned, and scrolling on his phone completely ignoring the many eyes staring at him. Colin returned with the rest of the group nudging Damian and dropping his lunch tray with a loud smack, receiving an unimpressed glare in return. Colin smiled and placed a fruit cup in front of Damian. Jon personally didn’t get the allure. The couple of times he had seen Damian interact with others it was usually acerbic. Somehow that did not lessen his popularity and it left Jon dumbfounded. I good person should be good to others and being polite was a given, his Grandma said so and she was never wrong. Jon shrugged and went back to eating his school lunch. The rest could keep Damian he very much preferred Jay.

I hope you enjoyed it! Will post more soon, hopefully.

#damian wayne #jonathan kent #jon kent #damian al ghul #damian and jon #high school au #no capes au #jondami #supersons #fanfic #fanfiction #should I post on ao3 #first time writing #i hope someone likes it #be gentle

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cyle · 9 months

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Hi, I love hearing about the scale and magnitude of Tumblr. Are there any numbers you could share with us nerds? Daily users, daily new posts, daily reblogs, whatever you're allowed to share. Because, yeah, even if there's always something new to discover, it does tend to feel like I'm in a bubble or some sort of echo chamber, and you have said that users like us (however you name the chatty, bloggy, unhinged type of user, you know what I'm talking about) are the lowest percent, so, like, what even IS going on at Tumblr day round? Are there a bajillion taylor swift and K-pop blogs just uploading GIFs without having conversations? A thousand Turkish users uploading pics of their day to no followers like it's Instagram?

It feels like we're the top of an iceberg made of an eldrich sized collection of isolated communities, light years away from one another, with completely unrelated cultures and uses.

Can you share numbers? Can you share what the average user/blog/post is like? Anything else you would like to share?

i don't feel comfortable sharing most numbers, but we do share posts created per day on our About page, along with a couple of other numbers, like the total number of blogs on tumblr and how many blogs are created per day. tumblr is still a bit distinct from other social media (and blogging) platforms in terms of average user behavior.

we have millions of daily active users, and most of them aren't posting anything at all. but the percentage of people posting is higher than the typical assumed 1% rule of creation-versus-consumption, which is nice. the reblog-to-original-post ratio is like... 8 to 1 last time i checked. and likes-to-reblogs is like 10 to 1 or higher, at certain parts of the day.

most people on tumblr are "lurkers" who use the like button a lot, and sporadically reblog. also, most people only see ~25 posts or so per day, even if they have hundreds to see in their Following feed, which is why "Best Stuff First" is actually an important and used setting for many people. and the For You feed is similarly used and enjoyed way, way more than the typical old school tumblr power user would believe.

and yes, most content being posted are images, and a lot of it is stuff like taylor swift and kpop. if you go to the Explore Trending page logged out (like in an incognito window), you do get a sense for what's circulating around the platform. same with the Popular Reblogs dashboard tab.

regardless, even for me, who can look at this data in aggregate all day, it's impossible to get a birds-eye view of what's truly happening across the platform, let alone make sense of it. it's like trying to look at a city full of people and make broad strokes generalizations about it; sure, you can, but there's so much missed nuance that the numbers can't tell a story about.

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enchxanting · 1 year

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our love is god [ethan landry]

read part 2 here || all parts

pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader

warnings: nothing yet but this fic is heathers-inspired, so be warned for the future.

author's note: hi guys, long time lurker first time poster. this is my first time WRITING fic so feel free to leave any critique. also i don't know if i did the cut right lol i have a lot planned and hope you like!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear Diary,

I should’ve never let Mindy convince me to start this operation.

Sure, it’s nice to have a steady cash flow, but nothing is more aggravating than everyone and their mother asking for doctor’s notes, report cards, prescriptions, and absence notes when I’m just trying to make it to fourth-period math. When I was ten, I expected to use my Nancy-Drew-inspired skills to unearth hidden staircases or find whistling statues, not help someone’s checked-out mom get a Xanax.

Yet I forged three (3) permission slips today. Why? Because, next to mysteries, I love the sweet smell of cash in the morning. Yesterday, I added $150 to the rainy day fund. Hopefully, when the weather’s right, I'll be inspired to buy a car and ditch Woodsboro. This town is fucked, alright. Just ask Chad, Mindy, Sam, or–

“Tara! Jesus Christ!” I rub my leg where her sneaker connected. “What’s your damage?”

“Are you done, Shakespeare? You said you’d get lunch with me like, fifteen minutes ago.”

Tara isn’t so great with patience. But, again, I am not so great at keeping track of time. “Yeah, whatever,” I say. “Let’s go see what they’ve cooked up for us today.”

I follow her through the winding path of tables, chairs, and teenage bodies. As we go, I collect bills from outstretched hands and replace them with papers of varying sizes. Tara turns to smirk at me. “What was the event this time?”

“Oh, you know. It’s report card season, and this school is not known for its stellar GPAs.”

“We just have you to thank for keeping it floating below a 3.0,” she teases. “Tell me, Y/N. Does all that extra brainpower of yours get used up matching the way people dot their i’s and cross their t’s?”

I roll my eyes at her. “Sure, Tara. Let’s just get some lunch. I’m seriously starving.”

We grab trays and join the line, aimlessly chattering about the day. Tara’s been my friend since the beginning of the year when I was the only new kid in a town struck by tragedy. We were the only new buyers in Woodsboro over the summer. The rest are still empty, the memory of last year’s Ghostface attacks having driven out long-time residents.

What’s surprising, though, is that the so-called “Woodsboro Four” are still here. Sure, Sam, Tara, Mindy, and Chad mostly stick together, but despite the terrible tragedy that they witnessed, they let me and Annika, Mindy’s current girlfriend, into their lives. I could never measure up to that. I’m just glad they want to be my friend.

I’m taken out of my musings on friendship when I feel someone’s eyes on my back. Without turning around, I recite my usual speech. “$5 for report cards, $10 for prescriptions and absence notes, and an extra $5 for rush fees.”

“Woah, um, tempting, but I’m not looking for any forgery.”

Confused, I turn around to put a face to an unfamiliar voice. The guy’s tall, almost as tall as Chad, with curly brown hair and brown eyes that widen when I meet them. “Sorry, I was just going to get my lunch, but you dropped some cash back here.”

For some reason, my voice is not working. All I can do is look up at him, suddenly captivated by how shy he seems to be. When I pause for a few moments too long, Tara reaches around and takes the money from his hand. “Uh, thanks. I’m sure my friend here appreciates it. Usually she’s more talkative.”

“Oh, god, yeah, sorry,” I finally get out, stumbling over my words. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Suddenly, I think he remembers to be bashful and walks away without another word.

When he’s gone, Tara laughs. “God, Y/N, drool much? I’ve never seen you like that before.”

I flush red. “Whatever, Tara, you’re the worst.” I give her a playful shove and walk off to buy my lunch. I hand the money to the cashier, but all I can think about are those big, brown eyes, and I know I’m fucked.

#ethan landry #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x reader #scream 6 #scream 2023 #jack champion #heathers #heathers au #high school au #ethan landry fanfiction

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olderthannetfic · 25 days

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Hi, OTNF. I've been a lurker of your blog for a while, and honestly I never thought I'd send in an ask myself. This is a vent of sorts.

Recently I've come to the realization that a good offline friend of mine is probably an anti of sorts. Maybe I'm overthinking things, but it really does hurt to see them go on about how certain ships are apparently awful and that people who like said ships are terrible too. It honestly amazes me how they harp on about "problematic" aspects of certain characters, and yet they turn a blind eye when it concerns media that they enjoy. I think what really made me snap was them calling the sworn brothers trope homophobic without actually looking up what it actually means.

What really hurts me is the fact that they're someone I've known for a long time now, and yet I feel as if they would hate me if they knew what I like in fiction. I'm used to simply blocking and moving on online, but having to deal with this kind of behavior irl? I really don't know how to feel anymore. I hope one day I can tell them how I feel, but in this moment I just feel hurt and confused.

Oof. Yeah, that's always unpleasant. Often, you'll find that they're horrified to find out they've upset you like that and a lot of their nonsense was just performative... But other times, they'll be a jerk if you tell them.

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risunsky · 4 months

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2023 review

So, was it a good year ?

I think so, I've enjoyed challenging myself, I've tried Beksinski for a second time, Klimt twice, I've done a crossover hellraiser which I'm quite happy with… I made cement for the first time and it was great!

At the 2022 review I said I wanted to do more horror, so I went for gore with all my emaciated skeletons and I'm very happy with that.

September is my favorite of all.

Outside of my fanart world, my biggest freelance achievement has been completing a big comic commission on time and now that the book is out and I've had good feedback from both commissioners and readers I'm relieved and quite proud. It's been a stressful time so it's nice to see that it hasn't all been for nothing. So, even though I'll never stop considering myself as a learner and experimenting with new things, I think that this year I've finally managed to settle on a style, or a range of styles, that I like and that I think I'll stick with for a long time. I've been drawing for a very long time but this is the first year I've felt so strongly that I've found MY style. As for my universe, it seems that somewhere in the horror area of dark fantasy it is my home.

What's planned for 2024?

In terms of priorities, the gift commissions, yeah.... I'm soooo late. I've finished one, but two are still on hold, and have been for at least a year now. I'm terribly sorry about that, because I haven't been overwhelmed like that for a long time, and I intend to sort it out as soon as possible.

It should also be the year I finish the Goya remake. Ideally, I'd like to finish in February because that's my birthday month, or March because that's the anniversary of my discovery of Ghost.

For the rest, don't take it as a promise, because I tend to let myself be carried along by my desires and they are constantly changing. For example, I was planning great things with Nunussy but the poor thing was left on the side of the road. My interest in it just died. it seems that shipping characters and writing an alternative universe for them is not my thing. I have at least 3 shorts comics ideas, more or less ghost related but always mixed with something else. I really really want to work on it but it's a lot of work and this year I need money, like more than usual so I don't know... I also want to do Bloodborne fanart.

The fails

I haven't kept to my plan to draw the other characters in the Ghost lore, oopsy. I still haven't had the time to open any commissions, but last year was really special, working on a big contract that kept me busy for months and that was something new, it was stressful enough. 2024 should be different. I had to show a bit more of my traditional technique, let's say I do it with the Goya project, it's a semi-failure.

Not really a failure: I still haven't come up with a design for an official t-shirt. I think that's because I'm more of an illustrator than a designer and for a good design I need to find a special thing. It's not a big deal for me, just, if it happens it's cool, if not, well, not the end of the world.

To finish

I'd like to thank all those who follow me and who like and share my drawings, including those who remain silent in the shadows - I'm myself a lurker so I understand! Of course, a huge thank you to those who have supported me on ko-fi, it's the first time I've tried this system and I'm happy to have had some support pretty quickly!

my apologies if there are any English mistakes in this text, which is still too long

Have a great festive season!

#text post

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secrethiddenundercoverperson · 10 months

Text

Fem!Reader x TWDG Luke - Part 2.

All That Remains | Locked away

23yo , Fem!Reader , slow burn , long plot , reader is in place of young Clementine .

Fandom: The Walking Dead Game, Season 2 Reader pronouns: She/Her

Wc. 6.7K

Warning: Brief indications of SA.

A/N: Things involving Luke will now start to pick up.

IN THIS EPISODE | Comfort, no romance, cute Luke x reader interactions.

PREVIOUSLY ON TWD:

Y/N: We need to find a group. People we can trust. We've been on our own for too long.

Christa: Trust? You think you can trust someone out here? Not now. Not anymore.

Stranger: Out here alone? In the middle of nowhere? But we haven't met anyone yet. How many people are you with?

Christa: I'm by myself!

Christa, run!

Christa, are you there?

"Sam". Well, nice to meet you, Sam.

Oh my God. Thank you! Look, Sam, a can!

It's okay. He's dead. Look, you can see the bite. Looks like he tried to cut it out.

But that never works...

I guess you're pretty hungry too.

Here ya go.

Hey! Don't eat it all.

I'm... I'm sorry, Sam.

Stranger: I'm out! Grab her, let's go!

Now, on The Walking Dead:

ManWithBow: I'm out! Grab her, let's go!

ManWithMachete: Come on, girl. We gotta get.

The man with the machete picks me up and carries me in his arms. They run through the forest past the approaching walkers. Once they outrun the threat, they slow down.

ManWithBow: I think... I think we're safe.

ManWithMachete: Yeah... yeah, we're good. Hey, you alright...?

Y/N: I... I think so.

ManWithBow: What are you doing out here?

ManWithMachete: Where are the, uh... the people you're with?

ManWithBow: I don't want them thinkin' we're doin' anything but tryin' to help you. Hmm... not sure how the group is gonna feel about another mouth to feed.

Y/N: My friend and I got attacked.

They will remember that.

ManWithBow: Hmm... these folks mention what they were after?

Y/N: They might've just wanted food. We were cooking some sort of weasel.

ManWithMachete: They attacked you for a weasel? Damn. That is low.

ManWithBow: They might've attacked you for a different reason. Were these a group of men?

I nod my head yes.

ManWithBow: Yeah... Usually men like that- ... They might not have wanted the weasel.

My stomach turns remembering that moment. I was almost caught by that man. God knows what he would have done... What... could have happened to Christa. I start to tear up and become visibly upset.

ManWithMachete: Lets not think about that, okay? And trust that we're not trying to do anything similar... Anyways- They didn't mention any names, right? They weren't searching for anybody?

I shake my head no and try to calm myself.

ManWithBow: Hmm.

Luke: Well, I'm Luke, and this is Pete.

Pete: Hey there.

Y/N: Hi. I'm Y/n.

Luke: It's nice to meet you, Y/n. For now, we're gonna take you back to our group, okay? We got a doctor with us, and you look like you could use some-- ... Oh, shit...

Luke notices the blood on my sleeve and nearly drops me. He readjusts his grip on me, and gently places me on my feet as he stares at my arm wide-eyed.

Pete: What? What is it?

Luke: She's... she's been bit, man. Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, what are we gonna do here?

Pete: Hmm...

Y/N: No! It was a dog!

Pete: I didn't see any dog, Y/n.

Luke: Come on, look, we just saw you with those lurkers back there!

Pete: I can't remember the last time I saw a dog.

Luke: So what do we do now?

They talk to each other as if I'm not standing right in front of them.

Y/N: No! Guys it really was a dog! I'm not lying!

Luke: Look, I want to believe you... but I gotta believe my own two eyes first... and I didn't see no dog around.

Y/N: No! It was from before!

Pete: Hmm... alright. Let's see it.

Luke: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hey, watch yourself.

I glare at Luke.

Luke: Hey, don't look at me like that! You're the one that's bit here, okay?

Pete helps me roll up my sleeve.

Y/N: See?

Luke: Is it, uh... is it like she says?

Pete: Hmm... well, could be a dog. Hard to say. So where'd this "dog" go? The one that did this.

Luke: Now, what... what does this matter, Pete? Seriously.

Pete: I wanna know how believable her story is.

Y/N: I... I killed it.

Luke: What? Really? A dog shows up and bites you and you just kill it?

Pete: What would you have done?

Luke: I don't know!

Y/N: It attacked me! I had to fight it off, and then... It got impaled on some spikes. We were at a campsite, so I believe it fell on top of some tent stakes... Seriously guys. I ended his suffering!

Luke: That's... That's a lot to take in. Are you really not making this up?

Pete: Y/n? You tellin' us the truth? You look me in the eyes when you answer.

Y/N: Yes.

Pete: Hmm. Alright, Y/n. That's good enough for me.

Luke: Sigh. Yeah but, what else was she gonna say?

Pete: I've got a good bullshit detector, Luke. That's why you can never beat me at poker.

Luke: scoffs You don't always beat me at... Alright, how can you be sure? I want to believe her but... y'know after everything- Nick ain't gonna like this... Not with what happened to--

Pete: You don't have to remind me of that, boy.

Luke: Right. Sorry, sir.

Pete pats Luke's shoulder.

Pete: Come on. Y/n, are you feelin' alright?

Y/N: I'm fine. Just... tired.

Luke: I'd carry you the rest of the way but... I'm sure you understand.

Y/N: Don't worry about...

That's when my head feels tingly, and my vision slowly fades black.

Luke: Ah, shit.

I eventually wake up on the ground... There's a whole group of people gathered around me. They're all arguing with each other.

ManWithRifle: Don't you tell me that! Not with what fuckin' happened.

PregnantWoman: Would someone mind telling me what the fuck is going on here?

Pete: Now hold on, Rebecca.

ManWithRifle: We got this, don't worry.

Rebecca: Like hell you do. Did anyone even think to ask where she came from? For all we know, she could be working with Carver!

Pete: She already told us that she and her friend were attacked. Then she was bitten by a dog.

Rebecca: What? And you just believed her? You should've put her out of her misery right there. Dog bite, my ass.

Y/N: I'm not wor--

The man with the rifle fires at the ground near me. I gasp and freeze in place. The shot was inches away from me. But by the look of it, I don't think he intended to shoot at me...

HeavyMan: What the...?

Pete rips the gun out of his hands.

Pete: Keep your finger off the trigger, boy!

Luke opens the door and runs outside to join the rest of the group.

Luke: Whoa, whoa, what the fuck Nick?!

Rebecca: You idiot! Every lurker for five miles probably heard that!

Nick: You're the one tellin' me to fuckin' shoot her!

HeavyMan: Everybody, just calm down for a second!

Luke: Y/n, you okay?

Y/N: I'm not... I'm not working for anyone. I don't know what you're talking about. I just need help.

Luke: We got a doctor right here, okay? He'll have a look. Now what the hell is wrong with you people?! Okay, she's just scared!

Rebecca: We're all scared, Luke. Don't act like we're the ones being irrational 'cause we don't buy this bullshit story.

Nick: No way she survived out here on her own! Why are we even arguing about this?!

Another man joins the group.

ManWithAccent: Let me take a look.

I draw back and away from the man in fear as he promptly heads towards me.

Luke: It's okay. Go ahead. He's a doctor.

I roll up my sleeve.

HeavyMan: Damn, that must've hurt.

The doctor inspects the wound.

Doctor: Hmm. Whatever it was, it got you good.

Nick: This isn't how we do things, man. When you're bit, you get put down. End of story. I'm not going through this again.

Luke: No one's suggestin' that.

Pete: We could take her arm off.

I gasp. Immediately, I think of Lee, and how it didn't work for him...

Rebecca: It won't do any good. You'll just be makin' it worse for the girl.

HeavyMan: It's crazy. No one's gonna volunteer to do that.

Luke: I would. If it means saving her life.

Nick: Then what? How would we know it worked?

Luke: I- L-Let's just let Carlos have a look first!

I stare sadly at Luke, in hopes to appeal to him. He seems to have a good say in things.

Luke: Hey, look I'm on your side. I'm trying my best here.

A girl from inside the cabin opens the front door and peeks through it.

Girl: Who's she?

Carlos: Sarah, what'd I say? Stay inside.

Sarah closes the door.

Y/N: I don't mean to be any trouble. I just want to stop the bleeding and then I'll go. You'll never see me again, I promise.

Carlos: And where exactly would you go?

Y/N: To find my friend Christa.

Nick: Forget it. You won't get five feet.

Luke: Look, I may be in the minority here, but my gut tells me she's telling the truth. It probably is just a dog bite. Probably...

Nick: Of course you want to believe it. I'm sure you've got plenty of ideas in your head about her.

Luke: What? Shut the fuck up man? She's a kid! The fuck is wrong with you?

I look up at Luke with confusion.

Y/N: I'm not a kid?...

Nick: There ya go.

Luke: You're?- Man doesn't matter she's a small girl who is HURT. That's not how I'm thinkin' right now.

I'm still lost at what they're talking about, but I just forget about it.

Carlos gets up and returns to the group.

HeavyMan: So? What do you think?

Nick: Was it a lurker?

Carlos: A bite like that... could be anything. Only one way to find out.

Pete: How?

Carlos: We wait.

Rebecca: What?!

Carlos: By tomorrow morning, if the fever's set in, we'll know if she's gonna turn. In the meantime, we can lock her in the shed.

Y/N: What about my arm? It needs to get cleaned, and stitched, and bandaged!

Luke: The girl's in bad shape, Carlos.

HeavyMan: We have all that stuff inside the cabin, we could probably get by with...

Rebecca: Alvin, please...

Alvin: But, yeah, we can't do nothing.

Carlos: I'm not wasting supplies on a lurker bite. If it turns out you're telling the truth, I'll clean it and stitch it up for you in the morning.

Y/N: But...

Carlos walks away. I shudder... Just thinking about the night I'm going to have... No way I'll survive it!

Luke: I'm sorry. It's the best we're gonna get.

Pete offers the rifle to Nick, and he grabs it out of his hands.

Pete: Finger off the trigger, son.

Nick: I ain't your son.

Luke: Don't be like that, man.

Pete: It's alright. Boy's got his mom's temper.

Nick: Come on.

Nick, Luke, and I walk away.

Rebecca: This is just a waste of time. You'll see. And when she turns, I ain't gonna be the one cleanin' up the shed.

As we're walking, I'm holding my arm in pain.

Luke: Look, hold out the best you can, Y/n. And we'll see what's what in the morning.

We reach the shed; Luke opens the door and we exchange a sad glance. I walk into the shed and Luke closes the doors behind me. I can hear Luke and Nick talking from outside the door.

Luke: Why are we doing this? It's so dumb. It looked like a dog bite.

Nick: It's safer this way. And better she turns in there than in the cabin where we SLEEP.

Luke: Whatever man, go. I'll lock up the shed.

Y/N: I can't believe this... You're gonna be fine, you're gonna be fine.

Luke: Y/n. I'm sorry, I tried. Just hang in there.

Before I can respond, I hear him walk away.

I look around at my surroundings. I might as well get comfortable in here... I see an anchor on the wall. Looks sharp... To my right is a tool board. But nothing of use. It's pretty much empty. On the table in front of it is a vice.

...

Definitely glad they decided not to take my arm off...

I search a barrel but it's empty. Then I find a tackle box.

Y/N: Not much left in here...

I find fishing line inside the box.

Y/N: I guess if I have to, I can use this for stitches.

There's a shelf but it's too high up for me to reach. There's a hammer on it... I try jumping to reach it but end up pushing it further out of my reach...

I see a wooden board on the wall next to the shelf. I unfold the table and climb onto it. I reach for the hammer, but the shelf collapses. I fall straight onto my bite... It knocks the wind out of me, the amount of pain... My adrenaline takes over and my mind sets on getting this hammer. I lift the board up and off of the hammer beneath it.

There's a visible hole in the wall, but it's boarded up with wood. Good use for the hammer. I pry open the board, and kick the panel open. I quickly crawl through the hole in the wall and notice a nearby walker.

Y/N: They have a doctor...he's gotta have stuff for stitches.

I observe the cabin, making sure its safe to approach

Y/N: It's pretty safe in there...could be a good place to stitch up my arm.

I sneak up to the house and see a window with silhouettes moving from inside. I decide to listen in at the window.

Rebecca: It makes me feel like a fucking idiot when we're not on the same page.

Alvin: We are on the same page!

Rebecca: Not out there, we weren't! Not about the girl! I saw you get soft!

Alvin: What do you want me to do, Bec? Put a bullet in her?

Rebecca: I want you to think about our family first.

Alvin: It's all I think about. So don't give me any shit.

Rebecca: I need some air.

Rebecca leaves the room.

I knock on the glass, and Alvin opens the window.

Alvin: What the hell are you doing?

Y/N: I... I need your help.

Alvin: Me? No. I'm sorry, but I can't do nothin'. Y/N: Please. I need to fix my arm.

Alvin: Are you out of your mind? Even if you ain't bitten by some lurker, which you probably are, you can't be here! You gotta get out of here, you understand? Get back into that shed and Carlos'll take care of you in the morning. Damn it, girl. Go.

Y/N: You'd just let me die?

Alvin: I wouldn't let you do nothing. It's not my call. We're a group.

Y/N: But you could help. And if you don't, isn't that the same?

Alvin will remember that.

Alvin: I don't know, alright?

Alvin looks behind him, checking the door.

Alvin: I'm serious girl, you need to get out of here.

Y/N: I saw when everyone was arguing, you wanted to help.

Alvin: You didn't see anything. Look, you gotta get outta here before my wife finds you. I'm serious, you gotta go. I got enough problems already. We got a baby on the way, Rebecca's all emotional, got a mess of hormones causing all sorts of trouble. I don't need anymore, get it? Now go.

Y/N: Please help. Please...

Alvin: Don't cry.

Y/N: I'm not gonna cry. I'm just... tired.

Alvin: You're not with Carver?

Y/N: No.

Alvin: And you didn't get bit by a dead person?

Y/N: No!

Alvin contemplates.

Y/N: I'll do anything I can to help your situation. Anything.

Alvin: Except leave me alone.

Y/N: Yeah, I guess. Alvin: I'm screwed if anyone finds out I did this. You understand?

Y/N: The b... the cut on my arm needs to be cleaned and stitched.

Alvin: Stitched? I ain't doin' that.

Y/N: I'll figure it out on my own.

Alvin: Alright, look... I don't know what I can find. We're short on bandages, but I might be able to find something clean that would work.

Y/N: I need something to clean it with, and a needle and thread could help, too.

Alvin: I don't even know where to look. Carlos has medical supplies on lockdown, and we don't got much these days.

Y/N: Well, whatever you can get. I'll find the rest on my own.

Alvin: Okay. Wait here.

Alvin leaves and returns shortly afterward.

Alvin: I found you some bandages. And I, uh... I got you a juice box. In case you're thirsty.

Alvin hands me the bandages and juice box. How old do these people think I am? I am grateful for the juice anyways...

Y/N: Thank you.

From the other side of the bedroom door, I can hear Carlos,

Carlos: Alvin, house meeting in five minutes.

Alvin: Oh, okay. Thanks. Now you need to go.

Alvin closes the window and leaves.

Though I have the bandages, that won't do. I need a needle and peroxide... I crouch and sneak around the side of the cabin. I end up in the backyard, and see another board of wood covering up a hole. It's covering an entrance to underneath the house... Maybe there's a way in from under?

I try to pull the plywood, but fail. I use the hammer to remove the nails, successfully. I then move the plywood. I crouch further and walk underneath the foundation of the house.

I finally reach a trapdoor. But when I try to open the door, it doesn't budge. It's locked.

I take my knife out of my pocket and use it to open the trapdoor, but the blade breaks. At least, it opens the lock... I then enter the house quietly.

Carlos: I've already made my decision.

Pete: Well, Luke has more to say, I guess. Where's Sarah?

Carlos: She's got her book. She doesn't need to be a part of this.

I enter the living room. Everyone is in the kitchen by the sound of it... I listen in for a bit...

Rebecca: For all we know, she could be connected with Carver.

Luke: Come on. There's no way.

Alvin: She could be. We don't know.

Nick: She's connected to somebody. There's no way she's out here by herself.

Pete: She said she was with a friend and they got attacked.

Nick: Yeah, right.

Carlos: Whoever she's with, they'll probably come looking for her.

Alvin: Great. They show up and we've got her locked in the shed.

Rebecca: You think we should bring her in here...?

Alvin: No. I'm just saying it wouldn't look too good.

Carlos: It's just a precautionary measure. Anyone else would do the same.

Luke: You really think Carver would come after us...?

Nick: You think he wouldn't...?!

Pete: He's not exactly the type to let things lie.

Luke: What happened, happened. There's nothing we can do about it now.

Alvin: Let him come. I really don't give a damn.

Rebecca: Alvin!

Alvin: What? I don't.

Nick: You brought her back here, not me. You knew she was bit.

Luke: What was I supposed to do, huh? Leave her out there to die?

Nick: Better her than us.

Pete: You'd've done the same, Nick.

Nick: It wasn't the brightest idea.

Luke: Oh, and firing your rifle was, huh...? Next time we'll just put up a neon sign that says "Lurkers Welcome".

Alvin: Where you goin', hon...?

Rebecca: I want to get my sweater.

Carlos: We'll be done in a minute.

Nick: You're in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by lurkers, about to get eaten alive, and you're telling us it was a dog?

Luke: Yeah, yeah, I know it sounds crazy, but...look, for whatever reason, I think she's telling the truth.

Pete: Look, there's no point in arguing about it now. She's in the shed, she's not gonna hurt anyone. We'll just see what's what in the morning.

Luke: But Carlos said she could die if she doesn't get her arm treated.

Rebecca: Assuming she doesn't turn.

Alvin: That true? The girl could really die...?

Carlos: If the infection spreads...anything's possible. It could definitely get a whole lot worse for her.

Luke: Don't we have penicillin? Or something that could, y'know...stop the infection from spreading?

Carlos: We have some. But not enough to spare.

Nick: We're not wasting anything on her. What if one of us needs it?

Luke: Look, I'm just saying, we could help, that's all.

Rebecca: We need to think of ourselves first. That's just the way it is.

Pete: We can't just let her die. Not if there's something we can do about it. Let's just say she's telling the truth and she doesn't turn. Then what?

Luke: We apologize for being assholes. And then we help fix her arm.

Rebecca: She can't stay with us. We barely have enough supplies for ourselves.

Pete: We've got more fish in the traps than we could ever eat.

Nick: Yeah, but she's seen us. She knows we're here.

Luke: What, you scared of a small girl like that...?

Carlos: A small woman is not the problem. It's who she might tell.

Alvin: We gotta keep an eye on her.

Rebecca: IF she doesn't turn. Which she probably will.

Nick: I gotta take a leak.

Carlos: Hold on. We're almost done.

Nick: Fine.

Carlos: My point is, if that woman can find her way here, then almost anyone can.

Luke: Pete, you saw those lurkers, alright? That's more than we've seen in a while.

Pete: Yeah. Seems like it's not as safe as it was. 'Least not like when we found this place.

Nick: Maybe it's time to move on.

Rebecca: We can't just keep running. At some point we've got to settle down.

Carlos: We should. And we will. But can we find somewhere safe? I don't know.

Pete: You seen what it's like out there.

Alvin: I was just starting to like this place.

Pete: Look, we've had a good run here. But if it's time to move on, then I got no problem with that.

Luke: Yeah, but...I mean, where do we go from here...?

Alvin: No more cities. We all agreed on that, right...? Too many damn lurkers.

Nick: We're not going back the way we came. That's for damn sure.

Rebecca: We can probably find somewhere better. We just need to look.

Carlos: Wherever we go, we can't get too attached. We'll be fine as long as we keep things fluid.

Pete: We can't forget we need to check the traps tomorrow.

Nick: What do we do with the girl?

Rebecca: You're not leaving her here with me!

Luke: We can't just keep her locked in the shed. We're not animals.

Carlos: Then take her with you.

Nick: What...?

Carlos: You want to keep an eye on her, then take her with you. Are we almost done here...? I want to make sure Sarah's ready for bed. Pete: Wait a second. There's something else I want to talk about.

I had been listening in for a couple of minutes. It was about time I stopped caring about whatever the hell they were saying, and focused on my arm. Because as soon as I'm done fixing myself up. I'm out of here. Luke and Pete seem to be on my side... but everyone else is unsure of me. Except Rebecca. She is definitely sure I'm some bitten, dead girl who works with "Carver". Whoever he is, won't matter to me once I'm gone.

I then go upstairs. The steps are so creaky, I'm almost trying to float over them with each careful step.

I enter a door and it ends up being the bathroom.

Y/N: They have to have medical supplies around here somewhere.

I open the medicine cabinet and take a needle from a tomato-shaped pincushion.

Y/N: It's clean.

I put the needle away carefully in my pocket.

Y/N: I'll still need something to keep it from getting infected.

Just when I'm about to open the door and leave, I hear something.

Rebecca: That man sometimes, I swear!

It's that angry pregnant lady, Rebecca... I look around, quickly! I need to find a place to hide! The shower? I jump in.

Rebecca enters the bathroom and drinks some water from the sink. They have running water?? What if... She tries to take a shower?! I should've just gone in the closet. Oh God...

Rebecca: Damn it... Just need to have this baby and...oh, god. Let it be okay and...let it be his.

Woah.

Rebecca takes a deep breath and leaves. As soon as it sounds clear, I leave to find some peroxide, or anything to clean my wound with... I open another door opposite the bathroom. As soon as I peek through I hear a gasp. For a second I almost shut it and run, but it's the girl. I put my finger on my lips and shush Sarah.

Sarah: You're not supposed to be in here.

I look around the room, look behind me, then close the door as I enter slowly.

Y/N: Hi, can you please help me?

Sarah: I'm not supposed to talk to you. My dad can't know.

Y/N: Why, what will he do?

Sarah: Get mad at me.

Y/N: What does he do when he gets mad?

Sarah: He gets angry and says he's disappointed in me and that he just loves me and wants me to be safe.

Y/N: That's it? Nothing else?

Sarah: Yeah. It's the worst.

From what I can tell, Sarah is no threat to me. I know I can talk my way out of this.

Sarah: What happened to you?

Y/N: A dog bit me.

Sarah: Sounds scary... I bet it hurts.

Y/N: I could die if I don't take care of it. Do you understand?

Sarah will remember that.

Y/N: I just need something to clean it with. I bet it would be with the rest of your dad's medical supplies.

Sarah: Yeah, it is.

Sarah contemplates for a bit. I wait in hopes to get the answer I want.

Sarah: I'll help you.

Y/N: Good. Thank you.

Sarah: I'm Sarah.

Y/N: I'm Y/n.

Sarah: We're friends. Right? We can be best friends. I haven't met another girl my age since way before. It's hard to be the only girl, you know? Rebecca is okay, but she's old. And that's it. And if her baby is a girl, it'll be forever before she's old enough to, like, be my friend. And then I'll be super old.

Y/N: We're not the same age.

Sarah: What?

Y/N: We're not the same age. Everyone here thinks I'm a lot younger.

Sarah: Oh, I see. How old are you then? I'm fifteen.

Y/N: I'm 23.

Sarah: You don't seem like it.

Y/N: That's just how it is.

Sarah: So, can we still be friends, then?

Y/N: Yes.

Sarah: Promise?

Y/N: Yes.

Sarah will remember that.

Sarah holds out her pinkie for a pinkie swear. I lock my pinkie with hers.

Sarah: A pinky swear is forever. I'll see if I can find the stuff my dad uses when I get a cut. Lemme look around...

Sarah searches the room and then gives me a bottle of peroxide.

Sarah: I think this is it.

Y/N: Perfect. That'll work.

Sarah: You can't do it here, though. Someone will find you.

Y/N: Don't worry, I won't.

I open the door and peek left and right to see if it's clear.

Y/N: Thanks, Sarah.

Sarah: Shhh!

Y/N: Okay. I better get somewhere safer to do this.

I return to the shed and take out the supplies. I roll up my sleeve and place my arm on the table.

Y/N: This is gonna suck.

I take a sip of juice first. I then unscrew the lid of the peroxide and pour it on my wound, then drop it. I scream in pain, as I feel the peroxide bubble up all over. It hurts so bad I'm almost in tears, and I'm not even at the...

Y/N: The fun part.

It takes me a few greuling tries, but I eventually thread the needle.

I begin the first suture, then slam my fist on the table. I'm so dizzy, but I have to push through. My adrenaline, my best friend at this point, takes over and I'm ready to continue.

I continue suturing and screaming in pain. I'm finally done, and wrap my arm up with the bandages, but then I drop them.

As I'm picking them up, a walker reaches through the shed and grabs my leg. I hold onto the table and reach for the hammer as I try to kick it away, but it knocks me over. I try to grab a nearby rake but can't reach it.

The wall breaks and the walker crawls all the way into the shed and climbs on top of me. I kick it away and stand up. I quickly grab the rake and push the walker backward with it. It falls and gets impaled by the anchor on the wall.

I grab the hammer and hit it repeatedly in the head until it stops moving. Luke opens the shed, with the rest of the group close behind him.

Luke: Holy shit.

Alvin: What the...?

Nick: How the hell did it get in here?

Pete: Girl's tough as nails.

Carlos: Are you alright?

Luke: The shed should've been safe!

Y/N: I am still not bitten. I never was. And you left me out here to die.

Luke: You patched yourself up?

Luke watches me carefully in disbelief.

Nick: Where'd you get that stuff?

Rebecca: Did she steal from us?

Pete: This doesn't change a thing. She hasn't done anything to us.

Rebecca: Says the man not carrying a baby.

Pete: Enough already!

Luke: Guys, please.

Y/N: I did. I took stuff and I'm sorry. I really am.

They will remember that.

Rebecca: And you think you can trust her?

Pete: Goddamn it, don't even start! Any of you would've done the same if you were half as tough as this girl. So just save it.

Carlos: Bring her in and I'll take a look at her arm.

Alvin: Damn lurkers sneakin' around out here... We better get inside.

Luke: You hungry?

Y/N: I haven't eaten in days. Not even that weasel.

Luke cracks a guilty smile, but I smile back to reassure him. He's on my side from what I can tell. No need to guilt trip him of everyone.

We all go inside.

Carlos inspects my wound. Luke paces and Nick bites his fingernails.

Carlos: This might hurt a little.

Y/N: Ow!

Luke: How's she look?

Carlos: Her suturing skills need some work, but otherwise I'd say she should be fine.

Luke: So it wasn't a lurker bite?

Carlos: If it was, the fever would've already set in and her temperature would be through the roof.

Carlos bandages my arm. Nick leaves the room and Luke follows him. Carlos washes his hands in the sink.

Carlos: I wish you wouldn't've done what you did.

Y/N: What do you mean?

Carlos: You manipulated my daughter.

Y/N: I asked for her help?

Carlos: She's not someone you can just ask for help.

I'm not sure what to say, so I stay silent.

Carlos: I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, but there are a few things you need to know about my daughter.

Y/N: Okay...

Carlos: She isn't like us. You may not get that initially, but once you're around her for a while, you'll understand. If she knew how bad the world is... what it's really like out there... she would... cease to function. She's my little girl. She's all I have left, and I would ask that you stay away from her.

Y/N: I'm sorry, I realize now what you mean. I didn't know. I was nice to her if that counts for anything...

Carlos will remember that.

Carlos: It's okay. You're forgiven. Just don't make any more mistakes.

Carlos leaves and Luke enters, holding a bowl of food.

Luke: Hey, uh... brought you some food.

Luke and I sit at the table and start eating.

Luke: That's gonna leave of hell of a scar.

Y/N: Better than losing it.

Luke: You can say that again. Scars...they're way cooler than stumps.

Luke tries to be playful with me. But I can tell he's still guilty and wary about what to say to me.

Y/N: Don't look so guilty. It's okay, you didn't want to do that to me. I survived anyway, and for that I'm grateful.

Luke: Grateful to who? You could've died in there...

Y/N: I could've died out in those woods, but you helped me. Gave me a chance.

Luke: Well, it wasn't just me. Pete helped you too.

Y/N: Then I am grateful to both you and Pete. Thank you.

Luke: You don't have to thank me...

I finish my bite of food then continue talking.

Y/N: Yeah, who was it that saved me from the walker on top of me by chopping its head off? And the one that carried me away?

I smile. I want him to be happy. We have enough burdens. Though I'm incredibly anxious talking to new people, and in a lot of pain, I just want everyone to feel okay.

He smiles back and looks down at his food.

Y/N: And I didn't end up with my arm chopped off! This is best case scenario.

Luke chuckles, but then noticed a growing sadness on my face as I start to think...

Luke: What's wrong? Y/N: Nothing. I just had a friend who lost his arm once, that's all. I'm okay.

Nick enters the room.

Nick: Hey, look. Um, I just wanted to say I'm sorry for... well, for being a dick out there. I got kinda aggro and that was definitely not cool.

Luke: Nick's been known to go off every once in a while. Don't hold it against him.

Nick: Yeah, I guess we all have our moments.

Luke: You definitely had one out there.

Nick drops his head down as he sits next to me.

Y/N: You were just protecting your friends. I get it.

Nick will remember that.

Nick: I didn't mean to be so harsh. I just... we had a bad experience once.

Y/N: What happened...?

Luke: Nick lost his mom. We took care of someone who'd got bit.

I can see the hurt in Nick's eyes...

Nick: It was my fault. I--

Luke: It was no one's fault. We thought we could control it, but... we couldn't. And then she turned and his mom was standing right there and she got attacked... There was nothing we could do about it.

Nick: Anyway. Hopefully, you understand.

Y/N: I do. Yeah.

Nick smiles at me then gets up and leaves.

Luke: So, since you're pretty much on your own, what's your plan?

Y/N: I don't know. Like you said, I'm just on my own now. It's never really been this way.

I wonder if I should ask to stay here? No, I couldn't... They all want me out of here. But, should I ask? I don't kn-

Luke: Well, you're welcome to stay here if you want. You can let yourself heal up and take some time to sort things out.

Y/N: Do you think everyone else will be okay with it?

Luke: They'll just have to deal with it.

He smiles at me. I let out a secret sigh of relief and smile back sheepishly.

Luke: So what happened to your parents? If you don't mind me asking.

Y/N: Do you really still think I'm a kid?

Luke: Oh, I- right. Well, how old are you?

Y/N: Wait, I want to see what you think. How old do I look to you?

Luke: 16.. 17..?

Y/N: 23!

Luke: Oh, wow, I- mean you just seem a lot younger. 'Cause, y'know, you're... small?

Y/N: Sigh. Yeah, I know. Everyone likes to mention it to me.

Luke: But you're strong. That's for sure. None of us could've done what you did out there. I didn't mean to offend you or-

Y/N: No, no! You haven't. I'm just very used to hearing it is all... And trust me, you would've been able to do it too. Once your body knows it's in trouble... Adrenaline will get you through anything...

Luke looks down with remorse.

Y/N: But really? Does my face look that young?...

Luke: I think your face looks to be about 23 years old.

I smile.

Y/N: Really? Or are you just saying that?

I tease him.

Luke: Really! I mean it.

We both continue eating.

Y/N: Well, how old are you? Have you been keeping track?

Luke: I'm 26. My birthday is in the winter, so I know it must be coming up soon.

Y/N: Mine too, January 26th. (~ Wink wink)

Luke: Pete's birthday is in the winter too. And like I said, seems like it's coming soon... so maybe we'll just have one big winter birthday party then.

We smile at each other and keep eating.

Luke: The winter will be rough, but it's not our first time surviving it. How do you usually get through it?...

Y/N: I'm usually with other people that can help me, if that's what you're asking.

Luke: I was just curious on how you made it this far.

Y/N: I just try to stay with good people and not do anything dumb.

I start feeling sad again...

Luke: Hey, I'm sorry, I... I shouldn't have asked.

Y/N: In the beginning, my parents went on vacation and left me with a babysitter and they never came back. We went to Savannah to find them... but they were already dead.

Luke: Wow. Well, I'm sorry to hear that.

Y/N: This man found me and took care of me.

...

Y/N: We met up with other survivors and we all tried to make it, but... it didn't work. His name was Lee. He taught me how to survive... He's the reason I keep my hair short.

Luke: What happened to him?

Y/N: I ran away... I was stupid. There was a man who said he knew my parents. I thought I knew what I was doing, but I ran away and Lee died because of it.

Luke: Maybe he would've died anyways.

Y/N: It was my fault. I just... sometimes people die because of me. Because they always try to protect me. I can't stand it.

Luke: I'm sure none of them regret trying to keep you safe.

Y/N: I'd hope so... for the past, I don't know seven years? I'd been with my friend Christa. The friend who was with me when we got attacked.

Luke lightens the mood,

Luke: For that damn weasel.

I laugh. Pete enters the room.

Pete: I hate to interrupt, but I'm out there standing watch and I can't help but notice this place is lit up like a goddamn beacon in the middle of the woods.

Luke: Yeah, it's time to turn in anyways.

Y/N: Alright, and thank you Pete.

Pete turns his head in question.

Y/N: For saving me?

Pete: Oh, right, you're welcome, Y/n.

We exchange smiles as he leaves the room. Pete winks at Luke, and it clearly frustrates him.

Luke: When you're finished eating, come find me upstairs. I'll show you where you can sleep.

I smile and nod with a mouthful of food. He puts his bowl in the sink and leaves.

To be continued...

A/N; Things are starting to speed up, see?? Ah trust me, the next episode... Allllll Luke baby. So far this has really just been the transcript to the game LOL, but believe me when I say, the next episode will be a whole new case.

#twdg luke #twdg x reader #twdg #luke x reader #twdg s2 #twdg luke x reader #fanfic #luke twdg #part 2

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