#lady's snippets

[lady-of-ocs]

Snow Crow - A Haikyuu OC: True Story

Tanaka is my underrated darling and I find him shockingly emotionally intelligent (at least he's got SOME kind of intelligence), so I wanted to write something with him. Mostly fluff but some hurt/comfort. I'm also sure you've been just DYING to know why my girl quit volleyball, so BEHOLD. The story. Featuring: My personal boba order

Céline folds her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow. 

“And remind me why I should help you study?” she asks flatly. Tanaka clasps his hands in front of him, head bowed. 

“Please, Céline! You’ve gotta help me pass this test or they’re not going to let me play until I can get my grades up! The team is counting on me!” he says. She raises an unimpressed eyebrow. 

“Aren’t you still on the bench?” she asks. He bristles, but doesn’t raise his head. 

“I’ll never get off the bench if I don’t get a chance to play! Come on, Céline, help a guy out! You’re, like, a total super genius!” he says. She huffs in amusement. 

“You’re supposed to compliment me before you ask for something, you know. That’s how people usually get what they want,” she says. He lifts his head, arms raised. 

“See! That’s why you’re the super genius! What would I ever do without-“ She holds up a finger in his face and he immediately shuts up, watching her with wide eyes. 

“What subject?” Tanaka blinks at her. Once. Twice. Then her question finally seems to register and he immediately jolts to straighten his posture. 

“English!” Céline stares at him for a long moment, considering. She’s not as close with Tanaka as she is with Asahi or Nishinoya, but he’s in the same year as her and seems nice enough (if not a little girl crazy). Finally, she sighs and drops her hand. 

“Come see me at lunch. I’ll tutor you until your test,” she says. His face breaks out into a giant grin, and he bows. 

“Thank you, Céline! You won’t regret this!” he says. She snorts softly and shakes her head, smiling to herself. 

“For your sake, I hope you’re right.” 

In fairness to Tanaka, Céline doesn’t regret tutoring him. He’s a slow learner, but he’s clearly trying his best. She does, however, regret tutoring him during her lunch period. He talks with his mouth full and usually ends up dropping crumbs onto his papers while he’s eating. It’s…Kind of gross. 

“Can you look at my essay? I tried my best, but it was really complicated,” he says, mouth half full of meat and rice. She takes the paper from him and tries not to cringe as she swipes sticky rice off the paper. 

“Tanaka, this entire thing is just about volleyball,” she says flatly, looking up from the paper. Tanaka shrugs at her. 

“We had to write about our life and-” 

“And volleyball is life. Yeah, I remember,” she says, cutting off his sentence before he spits half the contents of his mouth at her. She takes her pencil and looks back down at the paper. It focuses on volleyball, yes, but it’s not terrible overall. A little disjointed, but not bad. She scribbles down some corrections, then holds the paper back toward him. “Not too bad. You’re actually decent when you put in a bit of effort.” Tanaka doesn’t quite beam at her, but his eyes seem to sparkle at the vague praise. He looks at the paper as he finishes chewing, tilting his head at it before looking at her again. 

“How are you so good at this stuff?” he asks. She picks up an orange slice from the one she peeled while he was working, shrugging. 

“I’m already bilingual, Tanaka. Once you’ve learned one language, you know what you need to do to learn other ones. I had to learn Japanese when I was eight,” she says, popping the orange in her mouth. He blinks at her, like it hadn’t occurred to him that she knows multiple languages. 

“Right…Where were you originally from again?” She huffs in slight amusement, gesturing to herself. 

“What, the complexion doesn’t give it away?” she asks, a teasing lilt to her voice. He blinks at her. “I’m French, Tanaka. I moved from France. That’s why Asahi is having me teach him French.” 

“Oh. Right, that makes sense.” She goes back to eating her orange, eventually finishing it off while he’s fixing the mistakes she marked. Suddenly, his pencil pauses. “Do you think it’s bad? The whole…’volleyball is life’ thing?” Céline purses her lips, considering the question. 

“I mean, I was never quite that dedicated, but I definitely understand the mindset. Throwing your entire being into volleyball…I don’t think it has to be a bad thing, but all it ever did for me was cause a lot of pain and hurt,” she says. Tanaka lifts his gaze, eyeing her carefully. 

“What do you mean? Who…Who hurt you?” he asks. Céline’s body tenses a little. She’s been asked what happened before, and that’s usually easy enough to brush off. But who hurt you? That one is…More complicated. “Ah- Shit, I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that.” She shakes her head. 

“You don’t have to apologize. It’s just…A sore subject,” she says. Tanaka watches her for a moment, then reaches over to pat her arm. He doesn’t press further, just turns back to his assignment and keeps working on it. She’s grateful for the silence. 

Since it’s nice out, they sit outside in the courtyard for their tutoring session. Once Céline’s finished eating, she lounges back in the grass, looking up at the way the sunlight shines through the tree’s leaves. The wind blows through above them, rustling the leaves pleasantly. 

“Hey, uh…Céline?” She turns her head toward Tanaka, peering up at him and preparing to sit up so that she can answer whatever question he has. “I wanted to tell you that my test is tomorrow, so you won’t have to keep spending your lunchtime tutoring me.” She blinks at him. 

“Oh.” She’s not quite sure what else to say. She hadn’t expected to feel so unhappy about the arrangement ending. She’s missed having lunch with Satomi, sure, but she also doesn’t want to just stop hanging out with Tanaka. She silently turns her head back toward the sky, lips pursed. 

“Can I ask you something?” he asks after a long silence. She hums affirmatively and looks up at him again. 

“Go ahead.” 

“How did you become friends with Asahi? Like, how did you meet? I feel like he just randomly started talking about you one day,” he says. She raises an eyebrow and smirks a little. 

“Oh, he talks about me?” she asks. He looks down at her and makes a face. 

“Yeah, of course he…Why are you making that face?” She chuckles, lifting her head enough to fold her arms under it. 

“It’s nothing. Just something I can tease him about. He gets all flustered and turns bright red when I do that,” she says. He chuckles, muttering something about that “checking out,” and she hums to herself and looks toward the sky again, crossing her ankles. “But, to answer your question, I actually met him, Sawamura, and Sugawara last year. I came to the mall with my sister and…Well, Asahi ended up finding me crying and sort of spiraling in this deserted corner of the mall. And after Sawamura and Sugawara found us, they all ended up hanging out with me until I had to leave. I think that meeting is the only reason Asahi approached me once I got here.” Tanaka is quiet for a minute, and she can’t hear him writing on his papers. 

“...I’m glad Asahi found you. He’s a really softhearted guy, and I think that makes him easy to talk to and approach. I dunno, he’s just…He’s nice, I guess. Maybe comforting to people who are crying, I don’t know,” he finally says. She purses her lips for a moment, then takes a deep breath. 

“You’re not going to ask why I was crying?” she asks, quieter than before. She glances at him, but he’s staring down at his homework. 

“I didn’t want to pry.” The knot that’s long been formed in her chest loosens slightly. People won’t usually push her to answer, if they even bother to ask, but they still tend to ask. 

“It was the same reason why I quit volleyball,” she suddenly says, just barely loud enough for him to hear. He looks down at her, eyes wide. She’s not sure why she said it, but she’s not sure that she regrets the small admission. Asahi has had to gently coax every bit of information out of her, one hangout or walk home at a time. She hasn’t willingly offered anything to…Well, anyone. She smiles slightly, then shifts and sits up. “I’ll tell you what. Score a…A 70 on this test I’ve helped you study for, and I’ll tell you why I quit volleyball, and why I was crying when Asahi met me.” He stares at her for a moment, then she sees a glint of determination in his eyes as he nods. 

“Deal!” 

A few days pass, and Céline goes back to her usual routine from before she started tutoring Tanaka. The boy waves wildly alongside Nishinoya any time they see her, but she doesn’t hear anything about the results of his test. Maybe he didn’t get a high enough grade. She’s disappointed, of course, but she’s sure that he tried his best. 

“Hey, Cél.” Céline lifts her gaze as she reaches the bottom of the club room stairs, smiling at Asahi. 

“Hey. Ready to head home?” she asks. He nods, smiling shyly back. As they’re walking, she can’t help but look at him, tilting her head. “Are you growing out your hair?” He blinks at her, then smiles bashfully and reaches back to toy with his longer locks. 

“I thought I’d try something new. I’m not sure if I’ll keep it,” he says. She smiles sweetly at him and reaches out, twirling some hair around her finger. 

“I like it. You should keep growing it out a bit. It suits you,” she says. He flushes, but smiles back at her. 

“You think so?” Before she can reply, someone shouts behind her. 

“Céline! Wait up!” Her hand drops from Asahi’s hair, and they both turn and look back. Tanaka and Nishinoya are full-speed sprinting after them, and they both recoil slightly when the two boys come to a stop in front of them. Tanaka is clearly winded, but he holds up a piece of paper to show her, panting when he speaks. “An even- 70…” She looks at the top right corner and, sure enough, there’s a big red 70 written there. She smiles.

“That’s amazing, Tanaka! I’m proud of you!” she says cheerily. He continues panting, then glances up as he lowers his arm. 

“Oh…Hey, Asahi…Hope I…Wasn’t interrupting…” Tanaka continues to wheeze. 

“Oh, no. No interruptions. I was just about to walk Cél home,” he says. Tanaka turns his gaze toward Céline, and she glances at Asahi. 

“I promised him something if he scored a 70. Is that okay?” she asks. Asahi smiles, soft and sweet.

“Oh! Yeah, don’t worry about me! I’ll walk you home tomorrow!” he says. Nishinoya practically leaps onto him. 

“Don’t worry, Cél! I’ll keep him company!” he says proudly. Though Asahi gets his usual stressed out look as Nishinoya hangs off of him, it’s more out of worry than any actual distress, so Céline smiles at the two of them. 

“Thanks, Noya. Now I know he’ll be safe getting home without me,” she says, an amused tone to her voice. The worry on Asahi’s face is knocked right off, replaced by surprise. 

“H-Hey! I’m not that bad!” he says. Both Céline and Nishinoya chuckle, and Céline reaches out to lightly and affectionately pat Asahi’s cheek before dropping her hand and turning. 

“Come on, Tanaka.” 

“Later, you guys!” Tanaka quickly comes rushing up to walk beside her, and she rolls her eyes with an amused smile on her face. “So, where are we going?” She hums thoughtfully but doesn’t answer. 

Céline takes a long sip through the wide straw, sucking popping mango bobas up and rolling them around on her tongue before they pop and she swallows. She’s not very well-versed in boba tea, but she enjoys a good passionfruit drink with aforementioned mango popping bobas. She glances sideways at Tanaka, who happily munches on the melonpan that she bought him. It’s another nice, warm day, so they took their treats out to a bench overlooking a little pond. Some ducks swim by, and Céline smiles to herself. 

“I know that you said you’d tell me why you quit and everything if I got a 70, but you don’t have to,” Tanaka suddenly says. She looks over at him and he’s already watching her, a gentle tilt to his head and a soft expression on his face. She smiles a little. 

“I appreciate you giving me the option, but it’s okay, really. I’ll never be able to work through things if I don’t talk about it,” she says. He doesn’t speak or move for a second, but eventually gives a small nod, looking at her in a way that tells her that he’s truly listening to her. She takes a breath and looks down at her drink, taking a sip from it before swallowing and exhaling. 

“Do you know what they used to call me when I played volleyball?” 

“Yeah, of course. Everyone knew who you were,” he says. She glances at him. 

“You can say it,” she says. Despite the fact that she hasn’t offered any explanation for the name, he looks hesitant to say it. He swallows and clears his throat. 

“Snow Queen. They…They called you Snow Queen. Because your spikes were so powerful that opponents would just feel an icy breeze when the ball went by, or…Something like that. And because you look like…Well, you know.” Even though she gave him permission, her fingers twitch when he says the name. Snow Queen. 

“Sounds like a compliment, doesn’t it?” she asks. He’s still watching her closely, his eyes having darted downward when her fingers twitched. 

“I always thought so,” he says after a moment. She holds his gaze for a beat, then looks away. 

“It wasn’t. Not to the girls in the league,” she says, looking out at the water again. “It popped up at the end of my first year because of our win at nationals. I don’t even remember the first person who said it or where it came from, but um…Teenage girls can be…Really bitchy to each other. The girls on the other teams…Well, they either resented me or were afraid of me. I heard Snow Queen spit at me so many times that I eventually realized that it was nothing more than an insult disguised as a compliment. People who didn’t play in the women’s league didn’t know the context behind it, so everyone would call me that. I’d heard it said with so much hatred and malice that I…I just flinch no matter how it’s said or who says it. And the girls who didn’t say it with hatred were afraid of me. They looked at me like I was a monster.” She takes a shuddering breath as she thinks back to those two years. She usually does her best to think of anything but, however, she agreed to tell Tanaka what happened, and she intends to keep her promise. She takes another shaky breath. “And on top of that, people who viewed the name as a compliment stopped seeing me. They saw the Snow Queen, not the girl behind her. Their admiration and praise felt so…hollow. After two years, I couldn’t take it anymore. The first time I met Asahi, I was crying because someone in the mall recognized me, called me Snow Queen. And it just shattered something. I found this quiet corner in the mall to hide in, and eventually…Asahi appeared. He and Sawamura and Sugawara. They cheered me up that day, made things feel more tolerable. Normal, almost. Sometimes I think meeting them is the only thing that got me through my third year. But by the end, I was done. I was already moving, so…I quit. I hoped that Snow Queen would die in my past. That I’d leave Tokyo and never hear it again.” Céline finally falls silent, still staring at the water. She blinks tears back, returning the straw to her lips and taking a long drink. 

“Céline, I’m…” Tanaka falters, and she lets him think about what he wants to say. “Everything fell apart because of…That name?” She hears the moment where he catches himself, almost says Snow Queen again. She hums, popping the little bobas in her mouth and swallowing. 

“It’s stupid, I know-” 

“No!” She can’t help but snap her gaze back toward him. He’s leaning toward her slightly, his eyes wide and face bright with determination. “Céline, it’s not stupid! Those other girls were mean to you! They used that name to secretly hurt you and make you feel like shit! Being upset and quitting over that name isn’t stupid, especially when people were using it against you like…Like a weapon!” Céline blinks at him, eyes wide. For a moment, she’s completely lost on what to say. He barely knows her. How can he be so insistent and passionate about what he’s saying? 

“That’s…A sort of poetic way of putting it,” she says, chuckling weakly. He frowns slightly, and his expression is more serious than anything she’s ever seen on his face before. 

“Céline.” She looks away, feeling vaguely scolded, but, after a few seconds, she feels a hand settle on her knee. When she looks over, Tanaka has scooted closer and gives her a soft, meaningful look. “Your feelings and reasons are valid. There’s no reason to feel ashamed or stupid.” Céline sits there, staring at him, for a long time. Why does it feel so good to hear that? It’s as if a weight has been lifted from her chest, and she feels tears well up in her eyes. 

“Thanks, Tanaka,” she hears herself croak, turning her head away as she swipes at her tears. The hand on her knee squeezes and he shuffles closer to her. It takes her a second to collect herself, but he waits patiently. 

“Are you happier here?” he asks quietly once she’s stopped sniffling. She purses her lips, thinking about Tokyo and her friends who she left behind. She remembers her old teammates, wonders how they are now. 

“I miss playing sometimes,” she admits. Then, she smiles and turns to look at him. “But, yeah. I’m happier. It’s been nice here.” Tanaka smiles back at her. 

“I’m glad. It’s been nice having you here,” he says. She chuckles softly, tilting over slightly to bump their shoulders together. He bumps hers again in response, and she returns to her boba with a small smile on her face. They sit in peaceful silence together for a little while, then Tanaka kicks the toe of his shoe against the ground. “Do you think we could keep studying together? Not all the time, but…When you have some spare time.” She hums, glancing over and considering him for a minute. 

“I might be able to fit you into my schedule,” she says, slowly starting to grin. He smiles back at her. 

“Thanks, Cél.”

[kettlefire]

As Good as Good Gets (DP X DC Snippet)

Richard "Dick" Grayson is the golden child. In the eyes of the public, and in the eyes of the league. Dick is a sweet, caring son, a man who went from being a sidekick to being a hero. The pipeline from Robin to Nightwing had many people applauding his dedication to keeping Gotham safe.

No one knew the full story, not truly. No one but Bruce Wayne himself. And maybe a certain butler. Many don't know that Dick only became Robin to stop him from hunting down and killing the man who killed his parents.

No one really knows about the harsh fights and arguments he has had with Bruce. The times when Dick would find himself cut off from the Wayne name for a week or so. No one knows that the first person Dick warmed up to was Alfred. Having been bribed with cookies.

Things weren't always this good, trusting, happy relationship between Bruce and Dick. It had been a rough ride, a complicated one. But that was okay, because it got better.

Dick stopped being so moody and angsty. He grew up, he learned, and he changed. He became an older brother, found people that needed him. Needed him in a way that the citizens of Gotham didn't need him.

His brothers like to call him annoying. A goody two shoes who Bruce trusted more than everyone else. They couldn't fathom how someone like Dick could be so stupid and bubbly at all times.

All times, except when shit hits the fans. Despite the name calling, despite coining Dick as the stupid Wayne. They all knew better. They knew that when it mattered, Dick Grayson always pulled through. He was a force to be reckoned with when needed.

The whole Wayne family was a force to be reckoned with when called for. It didn't have to be under the guise of costumes and vigilante acts. Whether he was Officer Grayson or Nightwing, Dick was a man with his morals and values.

One night on patrol as Officer Grayson, Dick found someone who needed that force. A force willing to protect and care for the innocent. The hurt. The damaged, yet still good.

It started like any other night. A call of shots fired by an empty warehouse. There was no sighting or knowledge of any rouges being there, so Dick took the call. Told the team he'll contact them if it seems more than just a civilian incident.

The warehouse was dark, reeked of copper and oil. It didn't take long for Dick to find the trail. The liquid he found looked like the person had been dragged before walking. There was a clear struggle, even with the mess and emptiness that was the warehouse.

That wasn't Dick's biggest concern. The concern lay in just how much blood there was. Too much for any normal person to lose and still manage to stumble through the warehouse.

It wasn't just blood. It wasn't that much, but Dick could spot the strangeness in the liquid. The mixed in green that had an eerily similar color and glow as a certain pit.

Without thinking, Dick followed the trail. Barely remembering to make contact with his family. Give them an update on what he found. Words telling him to stay put for backup went in one ear and out the other.

Something in Dick's gut was telling him he couldn't wait. He needed to find the source. Whoever was currently bleeding out in this warehouse. He silenced the comm, moving further through the dimly lit building.

Then Dick found it. Or more so, he found him. It was just a boy. A boy that reminded Dick too much of the youngest Wayne. A boy sat against a wall, looking pale and weak.

Red and green coated the front of the boy's shirt, arms wrapped tightly around his middle. An attempt to stem the bleeding. A puddle had already started to form beneath the boy, and Dick moved without thinking once again.

He quickly found himself kneeling beside the boy, hands carefully reaching out. Before Dick even touched him, the boy flinched. Eyelids suddenly opened, wide and terrified blue eyes landed on Dick's.

In just that one look, Dick knew what he had to do. The haunting, terrified, and pained look in the boy's eyes told Dick everything he needed to know. The boy was in danger. Someone had hurt this kid, and it was clear it wasn't the first time.

The boy struggled weakly against Dick's touch, terrified whimpers, and barely coherent pleas spilled from the kid's lips. It had Dick's heart aching, clear as day the poor kid has been through hell and back.

It took a lot of reassurance, gentle touches, and promises of help before the kid let Dick take a look at the bleeding wound. A promise on Dick's soul had been the final thing that earned him any semblance of trust. A strange promise, but Dick was willing to make it.

That concern turned to pure anger the moment Dick managed to pull the sticky shirt away from the wound. The sight of a Y-incision cut perfectly into the skin, stitches tight on the skin, but blood still leaking heavily from the wound.

It didn't take long for Dick to realize why. Despite the perfect surgical care of the wound, a good couple of stitches had broken. Leaving gaping spots for that red and green liquid to pour out of.

The boy was deathly silent, tears streaking down his cheek as wide blue eyes stayed trained on Dick. In that moment, Dick knew he had to help. Had to get the kid to safety, patch him up, and find out what kind of monster would do this.

It didn't matter if the kid was human or not. It didn't matter if the kid had special abilities or not. No one, absolutely no one, deserved to be vivisected.

The kid was shrouded in mystery, but that mystery only seemed to grow and become clearer when Bruce had entered the scene. The boy had tensed, eyes flashing a bright glowing green.

Lazarus pit green.

It set a pit of dread in Dick's gut. His mind brings forward memories of Jason. Jason, after his revival, after his dip in that cursed pit. The same flash that his brother would get if he got too angry. Too emotional.

As much as Dick wanted to focus on finding who did this, if it had any connection to Ra's al Ghul. He couldn't. Not when the kid tried to get up, to pull away as Bruce and the others made their way closer.

Right now, Dick only cared about making sure the boy was okay. Fixing those stitches, getting him a meal, and a warm bed.

He needed to get this kid someplace where he felt safe and secure. Comfortable and protected. Dick wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the promise he had made, but he wasn't letting anyone get to the kid.

That included his family. As strange as it seemed, Dick put himself between the others and the kid. Shooting them all a glare that they had only ever seen a handful of times.

Dick lifted the poor boy up in his arms, cradling the crying child close as he led the way out of the warehouse. Ignoring the questions or confusion coming from Bruce and the others. As Dick walked, feeling the trembling boy clinging to him, he made a rather obvious realization.

Maybe the eldest son really was more like Bruce than he expected. Just a few short moments the the boy, a boy that Dick didn't know his name, and he was ready to pull out adoption papers. To give the boy a safety he so desperately needs.

Give him the chance that Bruce had given him all those years ago.

[boosandbirds]

gotham hauntings (name undecided)

The ghosts in Gotham are different from the ones in Amity.

They're drifters, flitting around the streets and wandering aimlessly. Full ghosts seem rare, but there are dozens, if not hundreds of shades, and if he's being honest, Danny isn't really surprised. The city is known for two things, crime and vigilantes, and either one of those can lead to nasty consequences. 

Messy death, unsolved cases, people's lives ended without a second thought. 

It's a wonder Gotham hasn't been entirely overrun by Shades, Danny thinks, but never says. He doesn't think about what he would do if a stronger ghost, one with an obsession formed here.

After all, Danny Nightingale is just a regular guy, with no connection to the dead.

That never stops them from creeping up on him.

It doesn’t quite start with footsteps, but that’s the best way to describe it. The knowledge that someone – or, something – is following him, not at a leisurely pace, but not urgently, either. There’s an unnatural sort of silence, too, like the kind before lightning strikes the earth, and Danny has to suppress a tremor at the thought.

The echoing sounds that begin to follow him aren’t natural, either. 

Whistling wind, when there’s not even a slight breeze. Claws tapping against the ground, without a rat in sight. A lighter, clicking on and off and on and off, over and over again. Nails dragging against metal walls, when Danny knows he is the only living soul in this alley. 

Though, he supposes that the term living makes all the difference.

His breath turns cold as the ghost finally approaches him, a shiver running down his spine. He stops walking. Takes a deep breath as the chill sinks into his bones. The feeling doesn't bother him as much as it used to, but the first moments are still uncomfortable.

“My Lady,” Danny says, his voice soft. “I was wondering when I'd meet you. It's an honor.”

The laughter that fills the air is a crisp, crackling sort of sound, almost like wood burning in a fireplace. “You remind me of my Knights,” she rasps, and her voice is rough, like she's smoked every day in her existence. 

The thought is only cemented when her form starts to take shape.

Her body looks as though it's made of smog and scrap metal, swirling smoke giving way to sharp edges and rust. Her cloak – or does it resemble a dress more? Danny isn't sure – reaches all the way to the floor, leaving a train of fabric behind her that slowly fades into the asphalt. She’s tall, too, in a way that humans never are. Danny has to crane his neck to look up at her, and even then, her face is hidden.

Sheer black fabric is draped almost her entire head, leaving only her mouth visible, and the rest of her features up to his imagination. When she smiles at him, Danny catches a glimpse of bloodied fangs. 

He can’t see her eyes at all. 

“Do you fancy yourself one of them?” Gotham asks, a clawed hand reaching forward to delicately lift his chin. “Do you mean to become a bird, little ghost? Or shall you remain a Phantom?”

Danny does not look away. “Don’t worry about me, my Lady,” he says, allowing his confidence to show through. He respects her, he does, but Danny has fought too many Ancients to hide behind flattery. “I don’t want to be a hero, not anymore. I just want to help people pass on, if I can.”

She hums, and though her expression doesn’t change, Danny gets the impression that he said something right. “Not a Knight,” she says, voice cracking around the words, “but more than a mere spector.”

And this isn’t the first time a ghost has come to a grand conclusion about him, but Ancients, Danny hopes that it’s the last. It’s a little better when it’s someone he knows, like Frostbite and the Far Frozen, and even then, it’s stifling. At least they know him beyond the quips and snarky comments and all of the things he’s done. All of the things that he’s had to do. 

 They still see him as human, despite all the grandiose and titles they’ve given him. 

But to Lady Gotham? 

Danny’s just a kid, barely into college. He wishes that was all Gotham saw him as.

“You can call me whatever you’d like to,” Danny says, despite his thoughts. “I don’t mean to intrude on your Haunt, or replace anyone who’s already here.”

“You are different from my Knights,” Gotham says, laughing lowly. “You help the ones they cannot see, and for that, you have my respect.” 

Her ghastly form softens around the edges, and for a moment, Danny thinks he sees a pair of red eyes. For once, nothing about the color seems dangerous. There are no warning alarms going off in his head, no deep seated instinct to flee or to freeze, or even to fight. With her free hand, Gotham cards her fingers through her hair, her claws barely scratching his scalp.

Those instincts are still silent, and that is a rare thing. 

“I can’t argue with ya there,” Danny says, and for now, that’s the end of it.

[wishfulsketching]

I got a simple thought: Harley has a big hammer = Harley should be more buff (then I had to add Ivy)

[inkpotsprite]

Snippet of one of the scenes I'm adding to a fic I'm rewriting for the sole purpose of adding more Cass (and others, but mostly Cass)

[kvothes]

kiss ask - 14 + 21?

since you didn't name a pairing i decided on gideon/harrow :)

CASUALLY + ON A PLACE OF INSECURITY:

Griddle revived has new habits, worse ones. She preens more (Harrow would have assumed this impossible). Her increase in appetite is inversely proportional to her decrease in manners. She sleeps fitfully, and less. She also kisses Harrow now.

They’re unthinking little things. Most often she drops a kiss to the top of Harrow’s head, seemingly whenever the mood strikes her. Alone. In company. Mid-step. Half-asleep she does this, kissing Harrow’s head and hands and shoulders. 

Harrow permits this, as she permits Gideon anything (except the poor table manners). She doesn’t protest or even react at all, mostly. And she doesn’t reciprocate.

Not until they’re alone. 

Not until the day or night or river or what-have-you has calmed enough to allow for rest, a bed, a change of clothes. 

It’s night and Harrow is already half asleep when Gideon launches herself onto the bed with all the grace of a rockfall, landing solidly on top of Harrow and disrupting all the blankets and pillows. Harrow screeches and pulls Gideon’s hair; Gideon laughs and laughs and bundles Harrow up into an acceptable shape for spooning. “Calm thyself, my crepuscular beauty,” she says into Harrow’s ear. “It’s only me.”

“I’ll melt your swords into silverware,” Harrow threatens.

Gideon kisses the back of her neck. “I dare you,” she says, and her voice drops in register. 

Harrow sniffs and relaxes into the indignity of being cuddled. It takes a few long moments before she realizes why Gideon feels so much warmer than usual, why there’s new tenderness in the way her back presses against Gideon’s front. “You aren’t wearing a shirt,” Harrow blurts out.

Gideon tenses a little. “No,” she says, guardedly. 

Gideon slept with her shirt on and buttoned to her collar for a month when Harrow first got her back. Even now she’s slow to undress, wary of baring her chest, its scars, its pitted and hollowed skin. The horrible reminder.

Harrow just breathes for a moment. Then she wiggles and twists about— “Ouch, lady, your elbows”—until she and Gideon are face to face. Gideon grins at her and kisses the tip of Harrow’s nose. Harrow goes cross-eyed watching her, which makes Gideon laugh. The laugh arrests itself when Harrow curls up her spine and ducks her head and kisses the mass of knotted scar tissue at the center of Gideon’s chest.

“Don’t,” Gideon says, in a tone that Harrow has never heard from her. It’s almost a whine. Harrow looks up. Gideon is wide-eyed and hardly breathing. They stare at each other. Harrow leans in, tentative now, and kisses the skin again.

Gideon’s breath leaves her in a rush. Harrow worms her way up to tuck her face into Gideon’s neck. “Never again,” she orders, in a tight little voice. Her hands splay out over the ruined skin. 

“I’ll live until you kill me,” Gideon says, and rolls on top of Harrow to cover her completely.

[captainrufflebanger]

Hey *scratches neck like the drug addict I am*

I was wondering if *unholy sounds*

You got anymore of them *panicks*

Alcina in a suit pics *cries*

I FORGOT TO ANSWER THIS ASK FROM WEEKS AGO

Hi sorry I don't have much that's presentable to the public but take this messy sketch dump I did after writing a teeny tiny fic snippet last year.

Lady Dietreschcu

[cappydoodle]

more of this! teen+cousin edition!

[fuctacles]

transfem Steve, age gap

| 1 | 2 | 3 | main story |

Stevie ver. | Ao3

The windows of Wayne's flat face the playground below. An infuriating thing, considering the ruckus they would do after school hours. Eddie's forever thankful for the invention of headphones.

He still thinks playgrounds should be somewhere they don't disturb the peace. Somewhere weird people can't sit on their balconies watching down on their neighbours and their kids like vultures.

Like Eddie is right now.

Usually he doesn't care, but today there's a very special spectacle happening.

Stephanie Harrington is outside, standing on the patch of grass next to the fence keeping her safe from feral children.

And she's not alone.

No, there's an orange, furry blob standing out like a sore thumb in the greenery. And so does its neon green harness.

Steph set out on the impossible task of walking one of her cats. And not just any cat.

"Garf, come on!"

She would probably have more luck with Dart, but Eddie knows Garfield is her favorite.

"Two steps, for mommy?"

She tugs gently on the leash, but all it does is make the cat topple on his side like a rag doll.

Eddie knows she has given up on the battle from the drop of her shoulders. She drops down to sit next to her cat on the trimmed grass, and gives him an annoyed scratch.

"You'll wish you went along with it when I cut down on your food. Fatass."

She closes her eyes and turns her face towards the sun to get at least something out of the unsuccessful outing.

Eddie's about to leave his balcony porch, feeling weird just watching his neighbour enjoy the sun, when her eyes open and she blinks rapidly to adjust them back to the brightness.

Her gaze lands on him like she knew she was being watched, but he reasons with himself that she just knows where Wayne's flat is.

She, of course, spots him and smiles, giving him a small wave. He waves back but doesn't want to push his luck, so he gives her a salute and retreats inside.

He closes the balcony door with a dreamy sigh and a clutch of his chest.

She's so cute when she's doing something dumb.

[lady-of-ocs]

Snow Crow - A Haikyuu OC: A Love-Hurt Relationship

I LOOOOOVE Nishinoya, and I think that of all of these that I've written so far, this on feels the most accurate to the character. I can hear his voice in my head (the English dub voice, at least). It gets a little bit introspective about Nishinoya and his feelings about Asahi leaving the volleyball team, but that's not the whole focus. I've explored a bit of Asahi's side of it, so I thought I'd do the same thing with Noya because I love him so much. "Love-Hurt" as opposed to Love-Hate

It’s the first time in a week that Nishinoya’s been at school, and he’s quieter than Céline’s ever seen him. She knows what happened, of course. She coaxed most of it out of Asahi and got the other pieces from Tanaka. So, she knows why he’s like this. She just wishes that she knew how to fix it. She sighs and closes her locker, hiking her bag onto her shoulder. She locks up the club room when she leaves, heading silently down the stairs. Since they’re out of all competitions already, most of the practices have been short and mostly dedicated to saying goodbye to their seniors. She stayed behind for extra practice, not wanting to get screamed at by their coach again (should she decide to show up). As she leaves through the front gate and turns the corner, she stops in her tracks. 

“Noya?” she says, shock evident in her voice. Nishinoya, previously leaned against the wall messing with his phone, lifts his head to look at her. 

“Hey, Cél,” he says. She blinks at him. 

“Why…What are you doing here?” she asks. He looks away from her and shrugs. 

“We always walk home together,” he says. And he isn’t wrong. Before his fight with Asahi, Nishinoya would often join the two of them as they walked home after their respective practices. Those walks home were the reasons why she got to know Nishinoya in the first place, and why she now considers him her friend. While he was suspended, he wasn’t around to walk home with her (though, neither was Asahi, since he didn’t have practice to stay for anymore). Considering how solemn he’s seemed all day, she wasn’t expecting him to walk home with her, especially since there was no reason for him to stay. “I guess Asahi isn’t coming?” Céline blinks again, then shakes her head. 

“Ah…No. No reason for him to stay late after school anymore,” she says. Nishinoya’s expression darkens as he looks up at her again. 

“So you’ve been walking home alone for the past week?” He scoffs before she even answers, crossing his arms as he averts his gaze. “Coward.” She frowns, walking forward and setting a hand on Nishinoya’s shoulder. 

“Hey, do you want to hang out? We can stop by my house and drop off my stuff, and then we can go do something,” she says. His stormy expression dissolves and his eyes soften. He offers her a small smile and nods. 

“Sure, Cél. That sounds nice,” he says. She smiles back at him and nods, dropping her hand from his shoulder before they start down the sidewalk. 

While Nishinoya waits by the front door, Céline goes to her room to drop her school bag. As she’s going to leave again, she spots her volleyball sitting in the corner behind her desk, where it’s been gathering dust for what’s nearing a year. She considers it for a moment, glancing at her door and where she knows Nishinoya is waiting in the other room. After stewing for a minute, she goes and picks up her volleyball, blowing dust off of it before carrying it out of her room. 

“Hey, we don’t have to, but…” She looks at him and holds up the ball once she’s in his view again. “Do you want to go to the park and toss the ball around?” He looks between the ball and her face for a few moments, then nods. She smiles a little and tosses the ball to him, walking back over to pull her shoes back on. 

“When was the last time you used this?” Nishinoya asks as she’s tying her right shoe. She pauses and looks up. He presses on the sides and it squishes in. Well, it’s not supposed to do that. 

“Oh. It’s been a while. I guess it needs air,” she says. She hops up, kicking off her left shoe again. “Hold on, I’ve got a pump in my room.” She turns and starts hopping on one foot back to her room, and she can hear Nishinoya laugh softly behind her. She has to rummage a bit to find her air pump, hopping around to different places in her room to search. Usually, she’s very graceful and steady on her feet, but hopping around in one sock on a vaguely slippery floor serves as her (quite literal) downfall. She hits the floor with a thud, though it doesn’t hurt as much as it could’ve since she’s learned how to fall as safely as possible. Still, Nishinoya comes rushing into her room. 

“Are you okay?” he exclaims. Céline rolls onto her back and groans for a moment. 

“I’m greeaaaaat,” she says. A beat passes. Suddenly, Nishinoya starts giggling. She lifts her head. 

“Are you laughing at me?” she cries, though she’s already started smiling a little. He’s clutching the volleyball to his chest as he laughs, and he tries saying something a few times before being cut off by his own giggles. Céline shakes her head fondly before laying her head back against the floor and chuckling to herself. She turns her head, gaze landing in the dark space beneath her bed. When she sees a box there, she recalls that she left the air pump in it. She rolls over and sits up, pulling the box from under her bed. 

“What’s that?” Nishinoya asks, walking over and plopping down next to her. She opens the box up as she opens her mouth to respond, but her words stick in her mouth. The pump is there, but she suddenly recalls why this box was under her bed. Her middle school volleyball memorabilia is staring up at her. They both just stare at it for a moment, until Céline finally takes the pump out and sets it on the floor between them. She pulls her team jacket out and stares at it. Most middle school and high school athletes don’t get to keep much after they graduate, but since she was so much bigger than most of the other girls (especially once she became a third year), all of her stuff had to be custom ordered and they let her keep it when she left. Part of her wishes that she left it all behind, but another, much larger, part of her is glad she still has it all. After all, she loves this sport, even if she walked away from it. “Do you ever regret quitting?” She doesn’t lift her gaze from the jacket at first, but she does smile a little, even if it doesn’t reach her eyes. 

“Are you really asking for me?” she asks, lifting her gaze to his. “Or are you only asking because you’re thinking about Asahi?” His eyes widen. 

“No! Cél, I…I…” He stares at her for only a moment more before he turns his head away in shame. When he speaks, he’s quiet again. “I’m sorry.” She looks away and sets the jacket back in the box. 

“It’s okay,” she mutters. She turns and picks up the pump, then reaches out and gently takes the volleyball from his hands. As she starts airing it up again, she senses his eyes on her again. 

“I was asking for you. But…For Asahi, too,” he says. She looks at him again, and there’s a flurry of emotions in his eyes. She sighs. 

“I get it, Noya, I do. You’re mad that he quit and you want him to come back. I also think that you don’t want him to do something he regrets.” She goes back to airing up the volleyball, monitoring the pressure in it. “So, I understand why you asked, okay? I’m not upset.” Nishinoya is still watching her, but she doesn’t meet his gaze. She gets the ball filled and sets the pump aside, spinning the ball between her hands. God, she loves volleyball. She sighs, hugging the ball to her chest. 

“I’m frustrated. I can’t go back to the team to play for another month, not until we’re second years, but I also don’t want to go back at all if it’s without Asahi. I guess…I just miss him. He’s my friend. And I don’t really want to play on a team without him,” Nishinoya says, breaking the silence again. She looks over at him, a soft frown on her face. After a long beat of silence, she looks back at the ball and spins it in her hands again. 

“I think my heart broke when he told me that he’d quit the team, and it shattered when Tanaka really explained the argument,” she says quietly. “Maybe because you’re both my friends and I care about you, but I think it was more than that. I walked away from volleyball because…Well, that’s not important. But the point is that I walked away. You asked me if I’ve ever regretted quitting and…God. Yes, more than you know. I’m happy, but I miss it. And I know how much Asahi loves volleyball. I don’t want him to leave the team and realize too late that he regrets it. But I can’t just push my opinions on him. Not when I’m the last fucking person he should trust about quitting volleyball. I’d just look like a massive hypocrite. So, I’ve just kept my mouth shut.” There are a few long beats of silence. 

“He’d listen to you if you said something,” Nishinoya says quietly. Céline stops spinning the ball again. 

“I know.” She looks over at him. “That’s why I don’t say anything. I don’t want to push him into a decision. Whatever choice he makes has to be his own.” He watches her for a second, then sighs. 

“I think you’re a better person than me,” he says. She can’t help but smile a little. 

“I think that was established a while ago, Noya,” she teases lightly. He pouts at her and she lets out a soft laugh. After a moment, he looks down at the box in front of them, eyes dancing across the various things inside. 

“Do you mind if I look at this stuff?” he asks, pointing into the box. Céline shrugs. 

“Not really. Just be careful with it,” she says. Nishinoya nods and turns back to the box, carefully rummaging through. He glances at medals and old team photos, grins at her third year jersey, and unfolds posters once used to advertise matches or fundraisers for the team, but the thing he truly pauses at is the scrapbook buried at the bottom. When he pulls it out, he glances at Céline like he’s looking for permission, and she eyes the scrapbook for a moment before nodding mutely. He turns back to the scrapbook and opens it, gaze falling on photos taken of herself in action and working with her teammates, Polaroids taken during practices and before or after games, and newspaper clippings talking about the team (and her, too). There are volleyball stickers and little doodles in the open spaces, along with dates and short notes about the pictures. Nishinoya strokes his thumb over a particularly good photo of her leaping toward a ball that her friend Taiga had set to her, body wound tight and ready to strike it down. 

“I try not to ask because Ryuu says that it’s really personal, but when I look at this stuff…Cél, you were like volleyball royalty. I don’t want to pry, but I just…I know you had to move, but you could’ve gotten into any school you wanted and played volleyball there. You were one of the top female aces in the country for middle school! There was a reason why they called you the Snow-“ 

“Noya.” His gaze snaps to her and, after a moment, she sighs. “That’s all true, but…Look, all I’ll say is that being volleyball royalty, like you said? It wasn’t as amazing as you think. It was…kind of painful, actually. Took a toll on me.” His eyes widen. 

“I’m sorry. I…I didn’t know,” he says. She smiles slightly at him. 

“It’s fine. Most people don’t. I think the only two people who know the full story are Tanaka and…” She trails off, but he pieces together what she doesn’t say. 

“And Asahi,” he says. He purses his lips for a moment before reaching out and touching her knee. “You can tell me, you know. You don’t have to, but you can.” Céline pats his hand lightly. 

“I know. And one day, maybe I will. But right now, I don’t want to burden you with that story. I invited you to hang out because I wanted to make you feel better.” She holds up the volleyball and he smiles, too. He glances back at the scrapbook again. 

“Can I ask one more question?” he asks. She sighs dramatically, leaning back on one hand. 

“I guess.” He takes a moment, then looks at her again, tilting the scrapbook toward her. 

“Do you still talk to them? Your old teammates?” She looks at the pictures on the page, thinking back to each moment captured in time. She looks happy in those pictures. And, in those moments when they were taken, she was happy. But that didn’t always reflect the reality of her life in the volleyball spotlight. 

“Only three of them. The rest resent me for quitting, as far as I know.” His eyebrows scrunch over his narrowing eyes. 

“Well, that’s stupid. I’m sure you had a good reason for quitting.” She raises an eyebrow at him, not missing the irony in that statement. He bristles under her gaze. “Hey, don’t look at me like that! I don’t resent Asahi! I just…I’m frustrated, that’s all!” She hums, then sits up again. 

“I know, Noya.” She waves her hand toward the box. “Put that away. Let’s go toss the ball around before it gets too late.” 

Céline spins the ball between her fingers. 

“You’re sure you want me to hit it as hard as I can?” she calls. Nishinoya waves his hands at her and drops into a squated position. 

“Bring it!” he yells back. She pops her lips and shrugs to herself, then tosses the ball forward and up, running after it and jumping up. Her hand slaps against it with a satisfying smack, and the ball sails in Nishinoya’s direction. He jumps into its path, arms out and ready to receive the ball. When it hits him, it sounds like it hurts, but he just watches it bounce off and laughs. 

“Killer serve, Cél!” he shouts over to her. She grins, watching him retrieve the ball and throw it back toward her. 

“That was just a warm-up!” He smiles back at her and gets back into position. After sending serve after serve at him, throwing in slight variations that she learned over the years before quitting the game, Nishinoya’s arms are bruised and Céline’s serving arm is a little sore. They lay in the grass together, in opposite directions but keeping their heads aligned, and Céline hugs her volleyball to her stomach. 

“We should do this again. That was fun,” Nishinoya says. She smiles, watching clouds go by as the sky starts to turn orange. She ignores the fact that her white uniform shirt is definitely getting grass stains on the back right now, instead humming and glancing over at him. 

“Are you using me for volleyball practice since you can’t practice with the team?” she asks with a note of playful accusation. He turns his head to look at her. 

“Nooo,” he replies, but they grin at each other and laugh softly. “But, seriously. Would you?” She sighs and looks back up at the sky. 

“I don’t know, Noya,” she says quietly. “I had so much fun playing with you, but the more I come back to this game…I just- I don’t know if I can do that right now. I was just chosen to be the new gymnastics captain and-” 

“Whoa, really? But you’re only going to be a second year!” he says, rolling onto his side to look at her. She chuckles, rolling onto her side as well. 

“Yeah, I know. I was completely shocked, but I guess a lot of the second years are quitting the team before their third year, and Fujimura and Hoga wanted to give the mantle to me.” 

“Well, that’s awesome, Cél. Congrats!” She laughs again. 

“Thank you.” Once she’s quieted again, she looks back at him and holds his gaze. “Look, I’m not saying no to playing more volleyball and helping you practice. I just…One day I’ll explain the love-hurt relationship I have with it and my hesitance will make sense, okay?” He smiles softly at her. 

“I can wait.” She smiles gratefully back. They stay like that for a bit before he shifts a little. “Do you need to go home?” 

“Nah. Let’s stay here for a little longer. You haven’t gotten to tell me how your suspension was.” He groans and briefly rolls onto his back, dragging his hands down his face. She laughs as he rolls to face her again. “It was so boring Cél, you have no idea! My grandpa was all on my ass about it and all I could say was-”

[vulcanette]

🎥: @ bonnybonesknits

[nemaliwrites]

have a snippet from the lil kwami swap thing i'm working on!

High above the streets of Paris, Mister Bug and Lady Noire talk about love.

It's a dangerous topic, to be sure; one that has to be tiptoed around with utmost care. A balancing act for Mister Bug. For Lady Noire too, perhaps, but she never seems like it affects her quite as much. Maybe that's why she's the one who brings it up.

"Are you in love, Mister Bug?"

His feet, from where they'd been kicking back and forth rhythmically, come to a stop. "Huh?"

"I'm just curious," says Lady Noire. On the rooftop they sit, there's more than a few centimeters of space between them. A gap that they're both waiting for Mister Bug to bridge. He only wishes he could. "Are you?"

Mister Bug tries to catch her eye. "Are you sure you want to talk about this? We... we don't have to--"

She waves a clawed hand in the air dismissively. "It's fine," she says, even though he knows it's not. He wonders what it is that's fine: talking about love, or talking about love when they both know he won't -- he can't -- reciprocate her feelings? "I wanna know. Is there anyone you love?"

There is. 

[myonmukyuu]

[inafieldofdaisies]

Ship Edit | John x Sabrina | Ship AU: Lady Luck and Lady Justice are both not on your side

"You're staring, Mr. Duncan.", she whispered, amusement seeping into her tone. "Can you really blame me?"

[ @socially-awkward-skeleton @derelictheretic @kyberinfinitygems @imogenkol @cassietrn @strafethesesinners @strangefable @voidika @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @trench-rot @purplehairsecretlair @carlosoliveiraa @raresvtm @simplegenius042 @cloudofbutterflies92 @killyourrdarlingss @direwombat @g0dspeeed @shellibisshe @aceghosts @elligatorrex @vampireninjabunnies-blog @la-grosse-patate @katsigian @dumbassdep @lilywatt @simonxriley ]

[niceminipotato]

How about a lil sneak peek of the chapter? Like a tiny kernel because as always we are here at 7.4k words and counting. I feel like Lady D and Nine have taken this one away from me. I’ve tried to limit their work but they have had their say and I can’t undo what they’ve done. All that’s left is to embrace it. Either way at the rate I’m going it’s safe to say that an update is imminent this weekend. Either later tonight or tomorrow. No promises but it really feels like it’s almost done.

Anyway… here is a teeny tiny snippet from the chapter. Read if you’d like. If not you should be able to see the full thing soon. Just wanted to give you guys something.

“Why is that so important to you?” The lady asked softly and when Nine looked up she continued, “it must be important to evoke such a reaction from you. Especially when I know for certain that you are in pain.”

Nine wrapped a hand around the ring and looked up at the lady, “I… I don’t know.” The lady tilted her head and frowned. “Can’t… can’t remem-ber.”

“You had it before?” The lady asked and she nodded. “Mother Miranda allowed you to keep it?”

“Sh-she took it onc-once.”

“What happened?”

Nine shook her head slightly, “can-can’t remember.”

“You blacked out.” The lady deduced, she seemed to excel at such things. “You blacked out and yet you still have it. You came to and you had it.” Nine nodded because it was true that was what she remembered. The lady watched her for a while. “Interesting.” She seemed to be in deep thought but soon spoke once more. “As much as I enjoy having you on the ground groveling, I think it is time to get you in the bath.”

[number1villainstan]

Overhaul's jacket puffs up with wounded pride. "Well, Shigaraki Tomura, I don't exactly fantasize about killing people--"

"I do," Shouta interrupts.

The room goes quiet--dozens of heroes and villains, gathered together in some tense, contrived conference whose host hasn't even made an appearance--and all eyes turn to Shouta. He dislikes the attention, but right now it serves his purposes.

"I," he says, "have fantasized about killing a lot of people, to tell the full truth. It's quite easy. And very tempting. You see, when you work undercover, and when you're actually committed to trying to make things better, you start to see all the weak points in the systems around you. You start to see who, exactly, is making it so that hundreds of men join gangs and don't leave, even if they want to--as just one example. And you start to think, if only I could hit those weak points, if only I could kill this person, this whole card tower would come crashing down, and I could save so many. And one day, maybe, you try it."

He sighs, and continues. "But it doesn't work like that. If you kill one person in that kind of position, another one just ends up taking their place. And it's tempting to kill them too, yes. But threats and violence are only effective in the short-term, and only on the superficial level, and besides, who are you to decide who deserves to live and die? Still, though, even if you know better, once those fantasies start, they're hard to stop. Sometimes they even extend past the villains to the heroes."

Shouta doesn't continue, because he has nothing more to say. The silence holds. He notices Nagant, especially, regarding him with something like wariness or perhaps respect. His students are all staring. He'll have to reassure them later. But for now, he's said his piece.

"...Jesus Christ," Endeavor pronounces, and somehow that sets all the rest of them off again.