#the red muffler

[kuroarimiyazaki]

Don’t you hate that post-bacchanal bout of “Laryngitis”?

[somedudenamedanthony]

Toxic MILF Yuri be like "I'm never going to let you leave me again." "Is that a promise?"

Bridgella tower au lets goooooo

[singswan-springswan]

I had a vision

[artbyfuji]

me? gongaga.

[dnangelic]

anytime i feel the 10000 yr old temptation to draw smth im forced to remember my dog ate my tablet pens

[einsteinsugly]

You know what is insanely OOC, at the end of season 7?

Having Red spend Eric's college fund for the muffler shop. He wouldn't do that. All the writers had to do to make it IC is him using the funds in an emergency. Like, medical bills after his heart attack. Viola. Fixed.

[stitcheduphearts]

[Kagerou Project] Tateyama Ayano

RED!

Tateyama Ayano: Member #0 of the Mekakushi Dan, Founder and former Leader of the group. Adoptive elder sister to Kido (#01), Seto (#02), and Kano (#03) in most (if not all) timelines. One of Shintarou’s (#07) few friends, and the most frequent reason for his depression.

Based on item on the right of this image:

Credits to abitofkake on Etsy!

[no1monstersimp]

How could you not be gay after this

[kvetch19]

[ace-of-dragons-art]

whenever I'm listening to a podcast while walking outside they unleash the loudest vehicles onto the streets

[arawkiss]

me and my friends when we all hate the noise

[eenyung]

via

[reallyvalid]

red muffler

[bluetooththereptile]

Unwelcomed embrace (part two)

Yandere super family x neglected reader

( English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in the following text.)

Note: this one shot is continuation of this one.

Tw: mentions of violence

"Why don't you have one of those small micro earphones that you attach to the collar of the clothing?" You groaned as you tried to find a good position to rest your hand on under the weight of the mic in your hand, you sighed as you looked at its round head, you didn't like it that much, it felt uneasy in your palm. The chair was too rigid for you to sit comfortably on it, creaking under your weight. You looked down at the mic that had a sock on as a muffler, smiling at the inventiveness of the reporter. "I presume your budget is not that much huh?" The reporter nodded with a sheepish smile as he tried to put on some powder to conceal some of the scar marks on your face, well, as much as your skin color let him do so. "Yeah..." he sighed "the budget is low."

You looked at him, focused on his task, young and ambitious, just like you, you felt like he had the same recklessness as well, why would a sane person come and meet a dangerous anti-hero over a post on Twitter? "Ready?" He asked as he adjusted his camera, you shifted on your seat once more, checking the dark background of the warehouse you were in, and then looked back at the shiny lens of the camera. You paused, still, your hand didn't have a good place to rest its elbow on, huffing in irritation, you rolled your eyes, you had to do something about it, if it kept irritating you, you'd end up messing everything up. So you focused on the cemented floor below, making a thick-bodied plant sprout out of the harsh floor and bend towards you, its leaves forming a cocoon, you smirked and put the mic on the head of the plant and used it as a stand, chuckling at the amazement of the reporter "Now I'm ready!"

"1...2...3..." the reporter spoke softly before the camera started filming and the red light on its front started blinking. "Alright, please introduce yourself..." he spoke to you behind the camera, tapping his pen nervously, you hummed to yourself and tapped your chin as you crossed your legs, trying to find a point to start from "I feel like a Podcaster now..." you joked, before clearing your throat as you started "Well, I'm what media used to call the "Green super" You used quotation marks in the air, your voice showing hints of your initial irritation to the name, which had associated you with superman since your powers were nearly the same. "But now I go with the Green Death, pretty cheesy, but I like it" you chuckled and continued "Well the name is not that far off from my personality either, I am green, my skin is that color."

"So, Green Death, your name has been on the news as the sole force that has kept the Armageddon from happening, twice, already, and now you, all of a sudden, while you had ignored the chance of interviewing with huge media broadcasters, have decided to have an interview now, here in the middle of nowhere, why is that?" You rubbed your chin as you thought about a response, your lips tilting upwards in a smirk "Well, now I have enough evidence to finally show the world who the heroes truly are." You paused, taking it the confused expression of the reporter, adding quickly "Make no mistake, I'm not going to expose their identities, that would make hell break loose, I just simply want to shed a much more different light on them and their actions. As you may know, I was a part of the young Justice League and then Justice League itself for a few years, and I'm the result of a 'heroic affair' myself, so I'd have a very different insight on them..."

"Why though? I mean we pretty much know about the heroes..." You let out a soft chuckle, leaning back in your seat "Well, that is sort of true, but tell me, do you know of the assaults and different crimes that have happened by their hands? For example, do you know Batman has kidnapped nearly three people and has erased their documents out of the system, making them vanish into thin air, never to be seen?" The reporter's eyes widened at that, your smirk turned into a wide smile as you continued "I have both the video footage and documents of it happening..."

"B-but why do you want to expose them for their deeds, knowing well you are fully aware of what they can do, surely they don't want anyone to know that... " "I have exposed the bad guys of the story already, my mother is after me because of that, so I don't think exposing the heroes would be any different...the world has to know who they truly are!"

You were hellbent on tarnishing the images of the heroes once and for all.

Since the time you had left the Justice League, your life had changed a lot, just within two years, you had gone from being a hero to a villain and then to an anti-hero, a cruel topsy turvey irony. It all had started with your mother finally owning up to her parenting role and had found you in your most vulnerable state when you were struggling to pass your days in your trailer. She took you in and tried in her twisted way to help you, for a short period you felt like you had a family, she seemed genuinely nice. But a few months later, you ended up joining the dark force, how? You still were not sure, all you could remember was your mother's voice echoing in your mind as she puffed a shiny dust in your face, and you shaking hands with the Darkseid himself as he had that disgusting grin on his face. It was after that night that you found out that bitch had manipulated you into joining the bad guys, well who wouldn't want to have a version of Superman in their league that wasn't vulnerable to kryptonite? At first, you tried to pretend that you did want to hurt people just for the fun of it, in your mind, you were taking revenge on your father, who looked devastated whenever you had joint missions with your new teammates.

Well, you couldn't deny that the sheer rush of dopamine you felt was great, no rules were there to hold you back, just destroy and enjoy, the loot was lucrative as well. But, still, something in the back of your mind nagged and you couldn't overlook that you hated hurting vulnerable people and you couldn't do it anymore, so at a very crucial mission, you ended up killing all of your teammates before fleeing. You gave your mother a good beating up before you dropped her on the Arkham's doors and then vanished into an abandoned base until things became normal. After that your way of life became of an anti-hero, you didn't want to admit it but annoying the heroes was fun, at least you weren't killing vulnerable people. You did what they couldn't do, you fought without rules and the results were more drastic.

But you wanted to roast your father more, you wanted to make him burn, and what was better than exposing him? "As for Superman, he at least has killed more than 100 people in his missions, the government has already covered that up but I have the proof...flash has caused a climate change that ended up ruining agriculture of the whole world for a year, resulting in famines, Aquaman has sunk a few ships, that were NOT of military-related, killing civilians, also, Wonder woman has kidnapped a few people...and so on and so forth." You started warming up, mentioning more and more of what you knew.

The reporter took note as you spoke, and you were liking the role of the one exposing the hidden secrets of the heroes. You were actually enjoying it too much, so much in fact that your super-human sense didn't detect the flight of Superman and Superboy coming to your location at a bullet-like speed. And within seconds they both crashed into the warehouse Kool-Aid style, making a huge impact.

You were quick to react, using your laser eyes to attack Super Boy, but Conner was quick to dodge, Clark quickly pulled the reporter out of the range of the fight and out of sight, he let Bruc take care of the reporter and his evidence later, now he had you, his troubling child that was now entering dangerous waters. Conner and you fought, trashing the warehouse even further, you didn't know why but Conner's grin was getting on your nerves already.

The two supers had a plan of taking you down, and it was going pretty smoothly, going just as planned, you grew to angry and Conner used it to his advantage, pinning you down by a broken pillar, giving Clark enough time so he could throw the pollen towards you, damn it! How the hell they had gotten their hands on the special pollen that your mother had created just for controlling you?! You tried to not breathe, but the bitter taste of it already had formed in your mouth, making your mind go foggy. Damn it! Damn it!!!!!!

"We need to talk..." Clark's voice echoed in your mind, your vision was so distorted that you could only see the silhouette of your father approaching you "And we need to talk properly!" His voice made your heart skip...uh oh...Clark was serious.

[noosayog]

002 a bittersweet valentine ft kuroo tetsuro

wc: 1.2k

valentine's masterlist, regular masterlist

The day before Valentine's Day has the entire campus abuzz. Girls talking to their crushes to get a feel for what kind of chocolate they like, boys trying to weasel at least obligation chocolate from girls. As for you, that’s the least of your worries as you’ve already decided exactly whom you’d be giving your homemade chocolate. Right now, your biggest concern is how you’re going to brave your walk home in the winter chill. Your thin cardigan and knee socks hardly cut it, as you shiver in the corridor. 

“You look like a chihuahua.” 

You look over to the voice to see Kuroo hovering near you, already changed into his outdoor shoes and bundled in a muffler, hoodie, and volleyball jacket. 

You continue shivering, proving his point. 

“Yeah, well…” you say. 

“Where’s your jacket?” 

“Got rained on this morning. I don’t think wearing a wet jacket would keep me warmer than not wearing one at all.” 

“You didn’t bring an umbrella?” 

You give him a look. “Yeah, I brought an umbrella. I just decided I wanted to get soaked in 2 degree weather.” 

“Okay, let’s scale back the snark a bit.” 

“It’s already on the minimum setting.” . 

Kuroo chuckles quietly, continuing to stand next to you and looking up at the grey sky. 

You look over at him and raise your brows. “What are you waiting for?” 

He shrugs, tapping his toes on the ground to adjust his shoes. After another moment, Kuroo’s maroon jacket, warmed by his body, engulfs your figure. “Take it.” he says before running out into the cold. 

He doesn’t look back and thank goodness because he doesn’t need to see you zipping his jacket all the way up and snuggling into it, nose inhaling the scent of your special someone. 

– 

You arrive at school the next day, armed with Kuroo’s jacket and a neatly wrapped little box. Most of your walk had been spent wearing the jacket, but you had wisely removed it a little ways before reaching school. God knows the rumors that would fly if you were caught wearing a boys jacket to school. 

Mainly though, you also wanted to avoid any teasing remarks from Kuroo about you and his jacket. You fear that one careless sarcastic comment from him would crumble the courage you spent half a year building up to even decide you would make chocolate for him this Valentine’s. 

You pass the jacket to Kuroo at the shoe lockers before bolting off to the classroom. You’re sure he gives you a strange look considering you’re both headed to the same place, but ignores it as he changes into his indoor shoes. 

When Kuroo enters the classroom, you sit up straighter, not really having thought out when you’d confess. You figure he’ll head straight for his seat near Kai but instead he walks over to your desk. 

When he comes to a stop in front of your desk, you look up at him, a strange look in his eyes. He digs his hands into the pockets of the maroon jacket you just returned to him that morning and when they come up, a familiar little box is in his hands. 

Your stomach drops. 

“Hey, I think you-” 

“It’s not for you!” you blurt.

The classroom falls silent, all eyes on you after your outburst. 

Kuroo scratches at his neck, ears flushing red. 

Your classmates begin to whisper. 

“Did you hear that?”

“Valentine’s day chocolate… but it’s not for him?”

“A rejection?”

Kuroo gulps and places the box onto your desk. “Okay… got it. Not for me.” 

His awkward laugh makes you want to grab your words and stuff them back down your throat. You want to tell him to wait, he’s right, you’re wrong; it is for him. He looks down at the floor, desperately trying to hide the embarrassment of his very public, very apparent rejection. With nothing left to say, he takes a couple of steps back, eyes still fixed to the floor, before waving pathetically and fleeing the classroom. 

The clamor of the classroom gets louder upon his departure, shameless speculation and whispers sure to spread like wildfire before the end of the day. You bury your face into the paws of your sweater. 

–

The end of the day does eventually come. Unfortunately, you don’t see Kuroo for the rest of the day, having never returned for any classes. 

The weather seems to agree with your mood, overcast skies threatening to rain. You stare glumly out at the heavy clouds, the bite of the late-winter wind making for a gloomy and lonely prospective walk home. You sigh, breath frosting up. 

“Heading home?” 

You turn to face the voice that comes from your left. Kuroo also stares out into the bleak weather. 

“Kuroo!” you exclaim. “I thought you went home…” 

“Nah,” his voice weak. “Just took a nap in the infirmary but before I knew it the day was over.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yep.” 

Silence reigns. You sneak a look at him, finding that his expression is downturned and dejected. All your six-months worth of courage are flushed down the drain, the box of chocolates heavy in your bag. You reach your hands in your bag, fiddling with the ribbon wrapped gift. 

“You know, about this morning…” 

Kuroo looks at you out of the corner of his eyes before looking back outside. 

“The chocolate,” you clarify unnecessarily. “It’s homemade…” That was practically a confession.

Kuroo knew. He already knew that. But he couldn't help himself when- 

“Who?” 

You startle. “Huh?” 

Kuroo had you grabbed by the shoulders, forcing you to face him, eyes drilled into yours. “Who are they for?”

The intensity of his stare has you locked in position, only staring wordlessly into his eyes. 

“They’re for you.” 

His grip loosens. “What?” he asks dumbly, worried, no, afraid, he heard you wrong. 

“They’re for you,” you repeat. 

He lets go. “Then why did you…” 

“I was embarrassed,” you explain. “I was mentally preparing myself to give them to you, but I didn’t think I’d make a stupid mistake and leave them in your jacket.” 

He takes a step back. Your heart sinks, but you continue. It’s too late to stop now. You fish the box out of your bag and hold it out to him with both of your hands, wholeheartedly. 

“I made them for you. You’re the one I like. You don’t have to accept them. But I hope you will, even after I yelled at you this morning.” 

A fist comes up to obscure your view of his face. When he slowly lifts his face, eyes meeting yours, your eyes widen when you’re met with his beet red face. 

“You scared the hell out of me,” he breathes. 

“Huh?” 

“I thought… I really thought you made them for someone else.” 

“Nope,” you shake your head. “They’re yours,” you say again. 

“Mine,” he parrots. 

You nod. 

“Then… Can I accept?” 

“I hope you will.” 

He grabs the box and starts undoing the ribbon. 

Your hand darts out to stop him. “You’re opening them now?!” 

“They’re mine. I can open them when I want, no?” 

You retract your hands. You suppose he’s right. 

He continues unwrapping the box until the simple truffles are exposed. They’re dark chocolate so as not to be too sweet, drizzled with a dark red raspberry topping. He pops one in his mouth. 

“Are they okay?” you ask tentatively. 

“I love them,” he responds simply. 

You nod, tickled. 

He swallows. 

“So…”

You look over at him. There’s a smirk on his face that warns you of what’s coming. 

“You were wearing my jacket this morning, huh?"

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

There’s something different about Potter.

Draco heard the other boy had spent the summer before seventh year at some sort of student duelling program in Russia. Maybe he was hit with a lingering giddiness spell. Or he hit his head and is even more of an idiot than before.

Stupid Potter, with his stupid smiles.

The other boy is often writing letters or in the owlery, and the amount of owlpost he receives is far greater than in previous years. Weasley and Granger keep giving him looks when he gets a letter or a package, too. Maybe Potter made a new friend and the golden trio’s about to fall apart.

(Draco keeps his fingers crossed for that option.)

The first morning that’s chilly enough to necessitate a muffler, it all becomes clear. 

Draco spots Potter, Granger, and the Weasel in the courtyard during a free period. “Oi, Potter – what’s with the scarf? Gryffindor doesn’t want you any more?”

Instead of the expected red and gold, the muffler wrapped around Potter’s stupid head is navy with black trim.

Weasley, predictably, turns a startling shade of red; Potter and Granger roll their eyes at him.

“Wow, Malfoy, top-notch insult. Slytherin’s best never ceases to impress,” Potter deadpans.

“That’s one way to say you know nothing about the colours of other magical schools,” Granger snipes. “How expectedly Anglocentric of you.”

“Harry’s boyfriend is–”

What. “Boyfriend?”

“Ron…” Potter sighs, and oh, he is blushing.

Draco sneers. “Oh, a boyfriend at Koldovstoretz, eh? I’ve heard that one before.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Weasley growls.

“How pathetic, making up a fake boyfriend.”

“Why would I make up a boyfriend?” Potter says incredulously. “I don’t care whether other people know about Vee or not.”

“Just ignore him, boys,” Granger says, and the three do just that, to Draco’s indignation.

Pshah, like anyone would be interested in dating Potter.

…And what kind of a name is ‘Vee,’ anyway?

—

But, as becomes obvious in early November, someone actually is interested in dating Potter. Or the scruffy git is so desperate to prove his boyfriend is real that he has someone pretend to send him a Howler love letter. Either way, it’s downright embarrassing to hear across the Great Hall - almost enough to put him off his breakfast.

Potter opens the red parchment cautiously, but relaxes as soon as he hears the voice it contains.

“Hello, darling,” the Howler says in a smooth, cultured voice, with the barest hint of an accent. Draco swears it sounds a little familiar. “I wanted to wish you good luck for your first quidditch game of the season. I know you’ll do phenomenally. One day, I’ll be in the stands, but for now know I am there in spirit, zolotse.”

Several other students swoon and start tittering to each other over the romantic cheesy message. Really, how sweet crass to send that schlock as a Howler, forcing everyone to hear it.

Stupid Potter and his stupid Russian boyfriend.

He was planning to cheer for Ravenclaw in today’s match anyway, but now he really hopes they crush Potter and his merry band of Gryffindorks.

(They do not. Draco is irritated for the rest of the weekend.)

—

The Hogwarts Express is nearly empty of students excited to be home for Yule, and Draco is doing a final check of the carriages when he sees it. He rushes outside to make sure it wasn’t an illusion some brat placed on the window, but no. That’s Tom Riddle, five-time IMC schools' duelling champion and Koldovstoretz’s wunderkind. And he’s embracing Potter.

Draco must make some sound, because Potter is suddenly facing him with his wand out.

“Malfoy, what the hell?”

“That’s– You–” he gapes. “Tom Riddle is your boyfriend?? He’s not Russian at all!”

“Who is this?” Riddle says, frowning at Draco, before turning the frown on Potter. “You haven’t told your friends we’re dating?”

Potter wrinkles his nose. “That’s not my friend, that’s Draco Malfoy.”

Rude.

Understanding dawns in Riddle’s eyes and the frown dissipates.

Doubly rude.

“And everyone knows we’re dating. You sent a Howler to me at breakfast - the whole school heard it." Riddle looks so damn smug about that. "And people keep telling me to stop talking about it because of how ‘disgustingly soppy I am over you’ – their words.”

Riddle gives him a warm look. “Zaichik…”

“Your boyfriend’s name is ‘Vee!’” Draco insists. “How would anyone know that meant Tom freaking Riddle??”

“Because that’s what I call him? That’s what he likes to be called?” Potter says slowly, staring at Draco like he's grown an extra head. “I wasn’t aware all of Hogwarts needed to know his full name.”

He throws his arms up. “Unbelievable. How do you function on a day-to-day basis,” he mutters as he walks over to his mother, whose presence helps settle his vexed nerves. 

His only consolation is that he won’t have to see or hear about Potter for the next few weeks.

—

The first morning back from winter holidays, Potter receives another Howler. 

“Good morning, solnyshko. I’ve just gotten back to St. Petersburg and thought I’d drop you a line to wish you a good start to the term. I’m already counting the days until I see you again. 

“Yours, Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

“What?” someone squawks. 

Several different voices shout, “Tom Riddle?!” 

The sound of Potter’s embarrassed groan carries over the din. “Vee…”

Draco sits back and enjoys the chaos. At least one of those two love-struck idiots understands how these things work.