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This is a perfect example on how tagging is supposed to be. Not spam tagging every single person thatâs in the show. Thank you @mrsmckay for the amazing example.
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Lately, Iâve been thinking about expanding this blog into a multi-fandom space. Iâll always have a place here for the Final Destination moviesâthey mean a lot to meâbut Iâve noticed my interest in the franchise shifting a bit. At the same time, Iâve been consuming a lot more media whenever Iâm bored, and itâs naturally pulled me toward other fandoms that Iâm starting to feel inspired to write for as well.
Iâll be taking things slowly, but you can expect to start seeing content for other fandoms alongside my usual posts. I want this space to reflect what Iâm genuinely excited about, and right now that includes exploring new characters, stories, and ideas.
I also want to be honest for a momentâsometimes I do feel pretty lonely. I donât have many friends or people I can spend time with outside of my family, so I often turn to media and writing to fill that space. I know that might not always be the healthiest habit, but creating and sharing content here has really helped me more than I can fully put into words.
Every single interactionâwhether itâs a like, a reblog, or a commentâmeans so much to me. It genuinely makes my day and has a positive impact on my mental health. Iâm incredibly grateful for everyone who has supported my work, even in the smallest ways.
Over the next few days, Iâll be reworking my pinned post, updating my links and masterlist, and organizing things to make the blog easier to navigate. Iâm also planning to create a Google Form where you can sign up to be tagged in postsâwhether thatâs for specific characters, certain fandoms, or every fic I publish.
Thank you for sticking with me and supporting my writing. It truly means everything đ¤
I'm thinking of doing a Alysa liu x female hockey player reader and this mostly takes place during the winter olympics and it will be 30 chapters with slow burn yuri romance please lmk your thoughts
Hi! Do you still make things about Final Destination? Could you do one about Billy? Feel free to choose :3
Yes I still write for the final destination franchise I haven't watched in months so I can forget what happened (for the most part) and revive how I felt when watching it for the first time â¤ď¸
So I'm off school today so I will write a fic for billy and I'll tag you when it's out
Okay but I can see Mel and Trinity falling in love so easily, hear me out.
Mel who is quiet and literal, listens intently and sincerely, and gives good advice. She really wants to connect with people, and never considered a life beyond her sisters needs until recently. She finds she actually wants one. She cares so much, is deeply sensitive and incredibly loyal. She wants something real in her life, something that is hers, makes her happy.
Trinity who was just told by her current ongoing hookup person that her feelings arenât worth her time and sheâs nothing more than sex. She is loud and abrasive but has the biggest heart. She is fiercely protective by nature, and a caretaker at her core. Sheâs got crazy trauma and feels totally alone in the world but just realized she (unfortunately) wants to matter to someone.
Trinity being protective of Mel because sheâs not afraid of a fight and Mel wonât stand up for herself.
Mel taking Trinitys drama trauma seriously and making her feel seen and heard.
Trinity breaking down all the gossip at work because Mel missed the social dynamics.
Mel actually being around consistently and Trinity starting to feel safe.
Trinity is sharp and bitter but Mel just runs her fingers through her hair and lets her rant.
Mel is used to caring for Becca in every aspect of life but suddenly Trinity makes breakfast and checks her forehead for a fever and keeps her favorite snacks stocked and has her comfort door dash order waiting when she gets home after a bad day.
Mel feeling insecure and Trinity pushes her up the wall and kisses her senseless.
Mel needs clarity (and lets be honest Trinity does too). Melâs literalness pushing Trinity to express her feelings and both of them talking about boundaries.
Both of them having crazy deep wells of hurt and grief and loss and neither of them had anyone to talk about it with before.
Trinity recognizing when Mel is getting overwhelmed and Mel recognizing when Trinity is getting triggered.
Dude im falling off the deep end with this shit holy moly
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TW: MENTIONS OF SH PROBABLY SOME OTHER STUFF PLEASE BE CAUTIOUS WHEN READY
Enjoy đ
The fluorescent lights of The Pitt buzzed overhead as Trinity Santos pushed through the doors of the break room, her scrubs rumpled from a long shift. It was lateâpast midnightâand the ER had finally quieted down after a chaotic rush of patients. She was looking for a quick coffee before heading home, but what she found instead stopped her in her tracks.
Y/n y/l/n sat hunched over at the small table in the corner, sleeves pushed up to her elbows, staring blankly at a half-empty cup of water. Trinity's eyes narrowed as she noticed the fresh bandages wrapped around y/n's wrists, peeking out from under the edges of her uniform. The air felt heavier suddenly, and Trinity's usual sharp wit faded into concern. She'd seen y/n around the hospital for months nowâa fellow nurse, quiet but reliable, always with a soft smile that hid something deeper. They'd shared shifts, late-night chats, and even a few stolen moments of laughter amid the chaos. But this? This was different.
:readmore:
'Y/n?' Trinity's voice was gentle, not her typical teasing lilt. She approached slowly, pulling out a chair and sitting across from her. Y/n startled, yanking her sleeves down too quickly, but the damage was done. Her eyes darted away, cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and fear.
'Iâit's nothing, Trinity. Just a rough day.' Y/n's voice cracked, and she forced a weak smile that didn't reach her eyes.
Trinity wasn't buying it. She reached across the table, her hand hovering before lightly touching y/n's armânot grabbing, just a reassuring presence. 'Hey, talk to me. Those aren't from an IV gone wrong. I've seen enough in this place to know the difference.' Her tone was steady, laced with the empathy she'd honed from years in the ER, dealing with patients' hidden pains.
Y/n's shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of her. Tears welled up, and she whispered, 'It's... it's been bad lately. The stress, the nights I can't sleep, the feeling like I'm drowning. I didn't mean for anyone to see.' The words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered, as if saying them aloud made them real.
Trinity's heart ached. She stood up, rounding the table to pull y/n into a hugâcareful, enveloping, like wrapping someone in a warm blanket. Y/n stiffened at first, then melted into it, her face burying against Trinity's shoulder. 'You're not alone in this, okay? Not here, not with me.' Trinity murmured, her hand rubbing slow circles on y/n's back. 'I've been through my own stormsâfights with colleagues, that mess with Garcia, the rumors that never stop. But hurting yourself? That's not the way out. You deserve better than that.'
They stayed like that for what felt like hours, though it was only minutes. Trinity didn't push for details; she just held space, letting y/n's sobs quiet into shaky breaths. When y/n finally pulled back, Trinity cupped her face gently, thumbs brushing away tears. 'We're getting you help. There's a counselor on staffâDr. Patel, remember? She helped me after that whistleblower crap. And I'll be right there with you, every step. Shifts, coffee runs, whatever you need.'
Y/n nodded, a flicker of hope breaking through the haze. 'Thank you, Trinity. I... I don't know what I'd do without you.'
Trinity smiled softly, squeezing her hand. 'You won't have to find out. Come on, let's get out of here. My place has better coffee, and we can talk moreâor not. Your call.' As they stood, arms linked, the weight on y/n's chest felt a little lighter, the darkness pierced by the steady light of someone who cared.
Summary: You and Alex think youâve finally figured out how to stop Deathâs designâbut in the world youâre trapped in, nothing is ever that simple⌠and every solution comes with a cost.
It wasnât hope.
Not really.
It was desperation dressed up as logic.
You could see it in Alex Browningâs eyes as he spread the photos across the tableâcrime scenes, timelines, scribbled arrows connecting one death to the next.
âTheyâre dying in order,â he said, voice tight. âThe exact order they wouldâve died on the plane.â
You wrapped your arms around yourself. âWe already know that, Alex.â
âNoâlisten,â he insisted, stepping closer. âIf Death has a design, then it has rules. And if it has rules⌠it can be interrupted.â
Interrupted.
Not stopped.
Not beaten.
You swallowed. âLike before⌠with Carter.â
Alex nodded quickly. âYeah. When Carter almost diedâwhen I pulled him off the tracksâit skipped him. It went to the next person.â
A pause.
Then realization hit you both at the same time.
âYou donât beat it,â you whispered.
âYou delay it,â he finished.
---
The plan felt wrong.
But everything about this felt wrong.
âIf it comes for you,â Alex said, pacing, âthen I stop it. That should push Death past youâbuy you time.â
âAnd then it comes back later,â you said quietly.
His jaw tightened. âYeah.â
Silence.
âYouâre asking me to almost die, Alex.â
âIâm asking you to trust me,â he shot back, then immediately softened. âI wonât let anything happen to you. I swear.â
That was the problem.
You believed him.
---
You felt it before you saw it.
That shift in the air. That invisible pressure pressing down on your chest.
Death was close.
âAlexâŚâ you breathed.
âI see it,â he said, scanning the room.
Kitchen.
Too many variables.
Too many ways to die.
The stove clicked softly behind you.
A faint hiss.
Gas.
Your stomach dropped.
âDonât move,â Alex said, voice suddenly sharp.
But something already had.
A dish near the edge of the counter trembled⌠then slipped.
It shattered on the floor.
You flinchedâjust enough to step backâ
Right into the oven handle.
The door dropped open.
Heat blasted against your legs.
âY/N!â Alex lunged forward, grabbing you before you could fallâ
At the exact moment the overhead light sparked violently.
Glass exploded downward.
Right where your head had been.
Everything stopped.
The chain reactionâbroken.
For now.
You clutched his shirt, shaking. âDid⌠did it work?â
Alex looked around, breathing hard.
Nothing moved.
No more shifting shadows.
No creeping sense of something lining up.
âI thinkâŚâ he said slowly, âit skipped you.â
Relief hit you so fast it almost hurt.
---
But it didnât last.
Because Alex didnât let go of you.
And when you looked up at him, there was no victory in his expression.
Only dread.
âWhat?â you asked, your voice barely there.
He hesitated.
Then said it anyway.
âIt skipped youâŚâ he repeated. âWhich meansâŚâ
Your stomach dropped.
âItâs next in line,â you finished.
Alex nodded.
âAnd after thatâŚâ you said, voice shaking, âit comes back around.â
âYeah.â
No escape.
No winning.
Just time.
Borrowed time.
---
You squeezed his hand tighter. âThen we keep doing it.â
His eyes snapped to yours. âWhat?â
âWe keep interrupting it,â you said, more firmly now. âEvery time it comesâwe fight it. We push it back again and again.â
âY/N, thatâs not a solutionâthatâsââ
âItâs survival,â you cut in.
A long pause.
Then, quieter: âIâm not just going to sit around waiting for it to take you.â
That broke something in him.
You saw it.
The fear heâd been holding in finally slipping through.
âI almost lost you,â he admitted, voice rough. âBack there⌠I thoughtââ
âYou didnât,â you said softly.
âBut I will,â he whispered. âIf weâre not careful⌠I will.â
Your chest tightened.
So you did the only thing that made sense in a world that didnât.
You stepped closer.
Rested your forehead against his.
âThen donât let it happen,â you murmured.
For a second, neither of you moved.
Then his hand came up, hesitant at first, resting against your cheek like you might disappear if he held on too tight.
âYouâre really staying in this with me?â he asked.
You let out a small, shaky laugh. âKind of hard to walk away from Deathâs hit list.â
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Could you make a fluff fic about early morning cuddling with Ian McKinley please just pure fluff
The early morning light slipped quietly through the curtains, soft and golden, painting everything in a warm glow. It was the kind of morning that felt stillâlike the world hadnât quite decided to wake up yet.
And neither had you.
You were half-asleep, curled up under the blankets, when you felt itâan arm tightening around your waist, pulling you just a little closer.
Ian.
Ian McKinley let out a quiet, sleepy sigh behind you, his face buried in the back of your shoulder. His grip wasnât tight, just enough to keep you there, like even in his sleep he knew exactly where you were supposed to be.
âDonât go,â he mumbled, voice rough with sleep.
You smiled softly, eyes still closed. âI wasnât.â
âMm⌠good.â
His hand shifted slightly, fingers brushing against your arm in a slow, absentminded motion. It wasnât rushed or intentionalâjust soft, lazy touches like he was grounding himself.
The kind that made your chest feel warm.
You turned just enough to face him, careful not to break the moment. His hair was a mess, falling into his eyes, and he looked nothing like the sarcastic, sharp-edged version of himself everyone else saw.
Right now, he was just⌠soft.
âYouâre staring,â he muttered, eyes still closed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
âYouâre not even awake.â
âDonât need to be.â
You huffed a quiet laugh, reaching up to push his hair out of his face. He leaned into the touch immediately, like it was instinct.
That made your heart do something stupid.
âGo back to sleep,â you whispered.
He shook his head slightly, finally cracking one eye open to look at you. âNah. This is better.â
Before you could respond, he pulled you closerâif that was even possibleâtucking your head under his chin. His hand slid up your back, slow and comforting, drawing soft patterns that didnât really mean anything except Iâm here.
The silence stretched again, but it wasnât awkward. It was full. Warm.
Safe.
âYouâre staying, right?â he asked after a minute, quieter this time. Not teasing. Not sarcastic.
Just real.
You nodded against him. âYeah. Iâm staying.â
He exhaled, tension you hadnât even noticed easing out of him. His chin rested lightly on your head as his grip relaxedâbut he didnât let go.
Not completely.
âGood,â he murmured. âWouldâve been a terrible morning without you.â
You smiled into his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
Outside, the world was starting to wake up.
But neither of you moved.
And honestly?
There was nowhere else either of you would rather be.
I am once again begging people to realize that AI checker doesnât work. itâs never worked. itâs notoriously known to have flagged human-made works as AI and AI-generated works as human-made. and by feeding it peopleâs works, you are feeding more works to AI, because apparently the machine itself is AI.
the only thing AI checker does is harm genuine artists and people in general too.