#x-soaring-heroine-x

[pegasus-parfait]

⚝

"Hey, everyone! I am very grateful for all the birthday messages you sent me this year. I feel blessed for having so many wonderful friends that care and wish the best for me. Thank you very much, I appreciate all your kindness!!"

[magicalgirlartist]

[IDs are in alt text]

I finally drew the Toa Nuva as magical girls, as promised! I'm really happy with some of them. Some of them were easy to figure out and others were a struggle (Pohatu I'm looking at you lmao). Like I've said these aren't going to be in the Bionicle Sports Anime proper but I just like drawing cute dresses so here we are lol. Most poses are referenced from @adorkastock except Kopaka's and Onua's.

[Commissions open!]

Design notes under the cut!

I really wanted to commit to everyone having skirts or dresses, but for Lewa I figured maybe it was better to give him shorts so he's not flashing everyone while soaring through the treetops lol. Which is too bad because he would rock a skirt. JUST HIM THOUGH everyone else MUST wear a dress. This is not optional (I also wanted to avoid making anyone look embarrassed or upset to avoid the "haha man in skirt uncomfortable with it" thing because. Yeah)

This is also our first time seeing everyone next to each other with relative heights! Tahu, Kopaka, and Gali are all approximately the same height, Onua is a short king, and Pohatu and Lewa are the tallest. I base human Bionicle heights on vibes almost exclusively.

I didn't set out to give everyone white gloves and shoes, it just sort of happened. Initially no one was going to have white in their outfit except Kopaka, but it's a good neutral colour if used sparingly that helps break up some of the otherwise very monochromatic look I've given them. I also gave Pohatu a couple of orange accents because I felt like it :P

Each of them has their Nuva symbol in a different place on their outfit, like Tahu's boots and Lewa's earrings. I meant to give them each their elemental symbol as well, but the only ones who wound up with it anywhere are Tahu (chest and hair clip) and Onua (gloves and boots).

One of the hardest things for me when designing magical girls is shoes. Shoes are hard in general because I never think about them ever, but especially magical girl shoes. Gali's are based on one of Lagoona's sets from Monster High, and Pohatu's are inspired by the shoes and socks in Idol x Heroine Miracle Tunes. The other thing I have a hard time with is hairstyles and I just kept them the same for this lmao I really didn't want to make magical girl versions of all these hairstyles. In hindsight I do wish I'd put some braids or beads or something into Onua's beard.

I figure they all have their own callout when they transform, like at the end of his sequence Tahu would say something like "the raging flames of the inferno! Toa Tahu!" and Kopaka says like "the silent fury of the blizzard...Toa Kopaka." or some shit lol. And then once they've all transformed and said their piece they pose and go "Unity! Duty! Destiny! We are the Toa Nuva!" idk maybe it's the PreCure talking lol but yeah I do love a team callout

[chibi-celesti]

Was ki ra chs Chronicle=Key en grandee sos inferiare yor

(I will sing you a sweet lullaby forever, my dearest)

Twst Boys x GN! Reader, feat. NRC Staff.

Warnings: Angst, reference to Epic Mickey 1, more AT references

Synopsis: Confronting and halting the Blot Phantom was easy. Saying Good-bye is the hardest.

(You part ways with your friends to halt the Blot from tearing apart Twisted Wonderland)

A/N: I swear I'm not a fan of angst! This was a brain child idea at 3 in the morning, and that's it! It's based solely on this scene from Ar Tonelico 1 where one of the heroines, Misha(or Misya) fulfills her role as a seal to the main antagonist Mir. The title is named after the song of the same name.

~EXEC_CHRONICLE=KEY./~

It was exhausting, the hell you all went through. The past overblots seemed like child's play compared to this monster-no demon-of a Phantom. This beast was hellbent on ending the world; to make it repent for the sorrows of mankind's greed.

You feared that you and everyone else weren't gonna last long. The demon almost killed Crowley, but somehow he persevered and survived throughout the fight. For being the first person to hold back the beast long enough for them to arrive was no easy feat.

Through hard work, tag teaming with the unlikely-est pair of allies, and no casualties to boot, everyone managed to best the beast and send it back down into the depths of White Rose Castle.

“That…was easy…” You heard one of your friends pant.

“You could say…that again.”

A thump sound of someone collapsing caught your group's attention. Crowley had lost his strength to stand and looked scaryingly pale. Everyone had shouted his name, seeing if he was in stable condition. A few students and staff ran to assist him.

“I am fine, Everyone. But we still need to do something about that dreaded Phantom. If we do not stop it now, our world will never know peace again.”

You swallowed back the lump in your throat. You had an idea as to how to stop it. But you worry what the others might think.

The headmage knows the truth. So did the rest of the staff. They all knew if things got worse, you would be the sacrificial lamb on the altar for this.

The ground begins to rumble again, not giving you enough time to confess.

Suppressing the tears that threatened to come down your face, you called to the Headmage to get his attention. He looks to you, knowing it is time. Crowley nods to you, and weakly gestures for you to head towards the broken castle’s altar.

The rumbling continued on as you made your way to the altar. The flow of magic embracing you as you faced all of the friends, acquaintances, and of course your beloved, one last time.

“Everyone, thank you. For everything.”

Most looked a bit confused, while others felt something was amiss. Your beloved, however, felt his heart beginning to crack into pieces. He knew exactly what you were about to do.

“Please don't hate me for this. I was born to fulfill this role. And while it was for a short time, I truly loved every moment of freedom I had with you all.”

“Don't forget me… okay?” You felt the tears fall against your better judgement. Feeling the magic in the air wrap around you, you began to perform your lullaby for the Blot.

~Wee ki ra chs Chronicle Key, en grandee sos dius yor.

Wee ki ra araus tes soare an giue mea iem~

The song reverberated out the desolate ruins of the Underworld, in and through the vast Coral Sea and spread everywhere in Twisted Wonderland. Your voice echoing as a piece of Salvation to many, and a tragic farewell to the friends you loved.

“Hey, guys. The shaking stopped.”

“Looks like the Blot won't be bothering us ever again…right?”

The Headmage confirmed their words.

“...” Your beloved stood there, taking in what everyone noticed your actions have done, while also blocking them out. He calls out to you, hoping you would answer.

A hand placed on his shoulders told him what he wanted to deny. “Forgive us, but they cannot stop singing. Lest we want that foul beast to return.” Trein told him, wishing he could do more to reassure his students.

“So, they can't come back with us?!”

You faintly hear shouts of disbelief, but they were drops of water compared to the sound of your lullaby.

“Pup is doing this for all our sakes.”

Your beloved walked ahead, hoping to speak with you again. To see if you could hear him. He tells you he cannot stay, but that he will try to visit you. Not everyday, but he will. He promises to tell you about the world you're protecting. The lives and futures saved by what you, he and everyone fought to protect.

With that said, leaning onto Vargas for support, Crowley ordered everyone to leave White Rose Castle.

It was time to go home. Without you.

~Why does power dwell in those who do not wish for strife?

And why does power torture the sweet, innocent ones?~

-Misha

[doomerpatrol]

Comic Log: Birds of Prey by Gail Simone

While Birds of Prey is not my absolute favorite thing I read this year, I think what makes it soar is Simone's character writing, as she really manages to reinvent or each character she puts her hands on. We get some of the best fleshing out of Barbara Gordon/Oracle as a protagonist, she gives Huntress an opportunity to shine and step out of Batman's shadow and also display some personality besides just being angry and pitifully needy, and Black Canary is made into a Grade-A badass rather than a secondary player or a supporting cast member. And even better, Simone brings them all into compelling relationships with one another. (Not to mention the incorporation of a roster of other great DC heroines, though I think their presence is not as consistently successful compared to these other three. But Big Barda is awesome!)

It's a bit cheesy in a variety of ways - the "Fabio"esque Savant and his stoic gay companion Creote feels incredibly 2000s, as well as the heavy reliance on "cheesecake" imagery in the covers and panels - but in that way it kind of evokes something like a very lightly elevated Charlie's Angels or Buffy. It's pulpy genre fiction (espionage, martial arts, noir) tethered together by a strong central cast. It's also comparable to something like Claremont's X-Men, where various plot and character points are gradually seeded in order to pay off later, so it feels like a mostly contiguous story.

That last sentence mostly describes the first two thirds of Simone's run, from #56-90. Then the series hits the DC editorial period of "One Year Later," a flash-forward paired with some interesting status quo shakeups. That starts out okay with an arc about Black Canary and Lady Shiva swapping positions for a time which is pretty fun. But after Black Canary leaves the team, the cast balloons in a way that feels rather claustrophobic (though there are some highlights like Big Barda), and some of the annoying horny stuff gets dialed up too much for my tastes (like Huntress and Catman having a thing, lol). The final two arcs also revolve around the extremely annoying antagonist of "Spy Smasher," a rival to Oracle who is very poorly characterized, and the resolution to that conflict is deeply unsatisfying. This last third is a bit of a letdown and feels quite overstuffed and rushed. but still an enjoyable ride!

Favorite arc/issue: "Sensei and Student," which sees Black Canary teamed up with Lady Shiva and (sort of) Cheshire, Oracle put into an incredibly tight spot as she's dogged by the American government, and Huntress being cool as hell. I also enjoyed "The Battle Within," a brief period where Huntress separates from the team to go after the Gotham mob while the other Birds surreptitiously maneuver to support her.

[dmcvergillament]

Bedtime Stories [Part 1]

Fem!Reader x Vergil

Summary: Unable to sleep, young Nero requests a bedtime story. You happily oblige and weave a tale that Vergil recognizes. Nero falls asleep to the legend of the dancer and the dragon and Vergil remembers how he fell in love with you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tucking little Nero in for the night, Y/N kisses his forehead. "Sweet dreams, my little angel."

Vergil picks up toys off the floor.

Nero catches Y/N's hand to stop them from leaving. "I...can't sleep without a story."

Vergil looks up from studying a blue bird plush he found. It looked oddly familiar...

Y/N smiles and sits back down on the bed to brush aside Nero's bangs. "Alright. What story shall I tell?"

Nero snuggles up to his chin in his comforter, eyes shimmering with curiosity. He waits for his mother to begin.

"Ah! I know: how about the legend of the dancer and the dragon?" suggests Y/N.

Vergil pauses as he sets the bird down alongside a black cat on a shelf. His interest is also piqued. What fantasy is Y/N spinning now?

"In a land far, far away in a time long, long ago..." begins Y/N, twirling her hands.

'There they go again with that dramatic voice,' thinks Vergil. Still, he cannot deny how his lover never fails to spark wonder in their son's eyes. Only a few words in and she has Nero's full attention.

"...there was a dancer who could mesmerize entire palaces with every step. When they moved it was like watching petals on the breeze. The soft colors of their clothes twirling around their long legs. Stories spread across many kingdoms of not only their unrivaled skill but also that of their bewitching beauty. All that bore witness to their dance were charmed. It was like a magic spell only they could use," continues Y/N.

"Were they as pretty as you, Mama?" mews Nero, tilting his head in that way that always melted Y/N's heart.

Y/N reaches over to stroke their son's ivory hair, before opening her mouth to say---

"What a foolish question." Gliding over to the bed, Vergil sits opposite of Y/N. His eyes flicker to Y/N before he continues, "Do not compare a rose to a field of dandelions."

Nero seems satisfied with this answer.

Y/N gestures for Vergil to not interrupt before she adds, "So one day the dancer gets invited to the royal palace to perform. Afterwards, the King becomes so enthralled, he begs them to stay and marry one of his sons. The dancer politely refuses and leaves. This was not the answer the King had hoped for and so he hired a famous knight to find her and bring her back to the palace."

Rubbing his chin, Vergil wonders, 'Why does this sound oddly...familiar?'

"This knight always wore brilliant, scarlet armor, so the people called him the 'Crimson Knight'. Legends spoke of how he could slay any monster and of the sword he carried upon his back. It was a grand sword said to be enchanted with an ancient magic that allowed it to cut through even dragon hide," explained Y/N, waving her hands like she was trying to make the sword appear.

"He was a dragon slayer?" asks Nero curiously.

"No matter how tall or dangerous the monster may be, he was always victorious. While many claimed to have been witness to such a feat, no one knew for certain if he had slain a dragon. After all, dragons were the most powerful of foes. They were cunning, proud, and equipped with immense magic," answered Y/N.

"Could he beat a dragon?" questions Nero.

"He most certainly believed he could. After all, he was the Crimson Knight: the warrior of all the human kingdoms. Whenever a monster appeared, he was called in to defeat it," replied Y/N with a nod.

"Sounds like someone I know," grumbles Vergil.

"Shhhh."

"But here he was faced with a strange request: to hunt not a beast but a woman. A woman armed with only an aptitude for dancing. This was not a job for the Crimson Knight. The King---afraid he'd decline and she'd slip away---lied. He told the knight that the dancer was harboring a curse set upon her by a demon. That if she was not found and brought back to the palace to be purified, she would die. Now this resonated with the Crimson Knight. How could he let such a beauty wither and wilt from such misfortune? So he set off to find her," continued Y/N.

"How could he lie? She's not really cursed, is she?" asks Nero with a frown.

Vergil interrupts, "People lie because..." He clears his throat. "Sometimes they lie to get what they want."

"She's not really going to die, right?" whispers Nero.

Vergil glances at Y/N. "No, she won't."

Y/N nudges him with an elbow. "Shhh, no spoilers."

"So without even knowing she was being followed, the dancer hopped from town to town to perform. Rarely did she stay for more than a few days in the same area. Her heart was set on adventure and she enjoyed the journey even if it was tedious without a horse or carriage. She felt as free as the birds in the sky. With her spirits soaring, she set out for the neighboring city. However, along the well-trodden path, a man appeared. Whipping his cart into a frenzy, he was approaching fast. Spotting her, he jerked on the reins and nearly fell off the bench. 'Young lady! Young lady!' he gasped. 'Turn back now! Only death and hellfire awaits at the end of this road!' Stunned, the dancer asked him to explain. 'A dragon has appeared! He has built his den inside the ruins of the castle and he strikes down all who disturb him! The people are terrified! Protect yourself and run while you still can!' Then with a crack of the reins, his cart was disappearing down the road in a cloud of dust. The dancer stood there flabbergasted. How can there be a dragon of all things? Were they not creatures of myth? Not believing in the danger, she continued onwards despite the warning."

"No! Don't go! You'll get eaten!" gasps Nero, burrowing deeper into his comforter to hide.

Vergil snorts. "Depends on what you mean by 'eat' her."

Y/N shoots him a look. Luckily, she seems to be the only one to catch it. Nero is oblivious as he is too busy trying to blend in with his pillows.

"Anyway..."

"Our heroine reached the city and was hit by a startling revelation: it was quiet. Walking through the marketplace, she found stands of fruit abandoned and carts of goods unprotected. Where was all the hustle and bustle? Where were all the people? Further up the road, shutters rattled and there were hints of movement. The dancer wondered if she'd even be able to perform here if there was no one to be the audience. Then an idea stuck her: what if she could coax the people out with her talents? If not dancing, then maybe a lute or harp would soothe their spirits and rekindle the city's vigor. So she sought out the very reason she had come to this territory specifically: the grand theatre. There all kindred souls of music and art showcased their passions. She had hoped to connect with other performers here who were as dedicated to their craft as she was. Spotting the gold rooftop shimmering in the evening sun, she scurried towards it with a renewed excitement. Throwing the doors open, she gleefully announced her arrival."

"Only to be met with silence."

"How can a place of boisterous joy be silent? On hooks and shelves, all the instruments sat idle. Not a single string was singing. Even the tables were vacant with not even a crumb set out for the mice. 'What is going on?' she wondered. Still, she was even more determined now. Picking up a lute, she played a few notes. Testing its voice, she listened to the hearty tones and wondered how anyone could have put it down. Jumping into an energetic melody, she smiled to herself. This hall echoed the sound perfectly: each note complimented each other rather than drown in a sea of cacophony. Erasing the silence eased the chill that had settled in her chest. That is, until someone snatched the lute from her hands. 'Are you mad?!' hissed a man, 'You'll draw the beast right to us!' Confused, she asked him to explain. 'Music attracts him. If you keep playing, he'll come back!' She asked him if he was speaking of the dragon she heard about. 'Yes. He has settled into the castle on the hill. Both the castle and its lord perished many years ago. The city has never been quite the same since. Now this monster has taken over and the peace in our hearts have been shattered.' The man's words sowed worry in her heart. Yet, something struck her funny: if this dragon was so vicious, then why did it only attack, when he heard music? Did music have some kind of power over him?"

"Did the dragon not like music? Why?" Nero peeked around the edges of his blanket.

Y/N fixed her son's hair behind his ear. He was already nurturing the start of a bird's nest.

"The music made him remember..." Vergil's eyes were glossed over. Y/N could tell he was somewhere else. "Remembering was...painful for him."

Not expecting a co-narrator, Y/N waited to see if he would continue.

"See, the dragon was cursed: his memories stolen from him. Hearing a melody sometimes brought those memories back in bright flashes. Remembering what he had lost pained him more than the sharpest blade. Rather than endure his past, he silenced the melody any way he could. Even if it was...cruel," explained Vergil, his voice dry.

Was that a twinge of guilt Y/N could hear?

[Continued in Part 2...W.I.P.]

[katyatalks]

Mob Psycho 100 Interview Translation - Character Designer Kameda Yoshimichi - Otome Visual 2017

Summary-style translation for Character Designer Yoshimichi Kameda’s 4 page interview from Otome Visual 2017, regarding elements in the creation of Mob Psycho 100 such as: what inspired this cover art, the influence of fan art in the anime’s creation, Tsubomi’s design, the process behind the package art for the DVDs, and more. Includes some genga. Under read more;

[TN: The reason why I elected to summarise this interview rather than do a full write up is because a lot of the information given gets covered in December 2016′s Animestyle010, in “The Making of Mob Psycho 100.” I typed that one out in full over on twitter but that’s a long interview, and I don’t have the time or energy to reformat it for Tumblr, but if you’re interested in a very in-depth look into how Mob Psycho 100′s anime came to be I’d really recommend checking it out. Direct quotes are given in “” here. Enjoy!]

---

*~The genga illustration for Otome Visual’s cover~*

“With the recent popularity that Skating Anime has had, what’s this - a Shouwa idol collab?! It’s all in the little details in their clothing - their wrinkled shirts, white trousers, black belts - both around their waists and arms.”

*~Kameda’s comments~*

“Can you heaaaar me!! I am currently speaking directly into your braaaain!!! What I’m grateful for with this commission is I was able to design the cover in any way I’d like!! A cover is a reflection of current times, so, of course, I went for ice skating! You wouldn’t be able to find this kind of amazing content in any time period other than now! That’s what I first thought! Like, Mob Psycho 100!! If there’s not a certain Mob Psycho 100-ness present in the art then what’d be the point, so, the characters are being very serious but they’re also pretty laughable. I tried to create a piece of art from which you could hear their voices!!! What��s with it being Shouwa-esque?? Being lame is incredibly cool!!! Huh? Does that describe Mob Psycho 100?? Can’t answer that if you ask!!!! Please feel the amazing Paradise Ginga x Mob Psycho 100-ness here!!!!!!”

---

Kameda describes how he wasn’t sure how best to adapt the manga into an anime format at first, since from the art he was shown he immediately knew it to be very unique - the idea of using Flash to animate the show was raised but quickly shot down

Originally, upon being asked about the show, he based his thoughts on what a web image search for Mob Psycho 100 gave him rather than having the actual manga in hand. “For the most part, the results that came back would be fanart (laughs). It’s a bit strange -  at that time, it was difficult to find art uploaded from the manga. If you could find anything, it’d just be art from the covers. So for the most part, an image search of Mob Psycho 100 would just bring you back fanart. A lot of that fanart would be… a shounen in a cool pose wearing a school uniform with smooth bobbed hair & sharp cat-like eyes, sort of like Hiei’s eyes (from Yu Yu Hakusho). Very different from the manga’s art. But when I looked at that art, I thought; this could work. Fanart is, fundamentally, ‘fans drawing what they like’, so I thought, ‘the anime having this kind of art would make the fans happy.’ Well, it didn’t work out that way, obviously. I was told the anime’s art should resemble that of the manga. (Laughs)”

He hadn’t read the manga so all he had for reference was art from volume 1 and the fanart he found online. “But I like things like spirits and urban legends, so seeing Dimple - a floating supernatural fiery ball - and being told the manga touches on the occult caused my interest to soar.”

Says that Teru is the easiest character for him to draw. “He’s overflowing with confidence, so it’s easy to put him into some cool poses. Mob and Ritsu in comparison, not so much. [...] With Reigen, he has a lot of poses that are like, he’s trying to look good. He takes a solid stance. I suppose Spirits & Such has such a shady air to it, and you have to hide that somehow, right? So, Reigen injects confidence into how he presents himself. A model-like stance.”

“The anime is faithful to the manga… ah, actually, Tsubomi-chan was changed with a ‘let’s make her more like a heroine’ conversation. So, I did so, but reading recent events in the manga I can’t picture her in her anime form (laughs). The manga’s Tsubomi isn’t much like a heroine, so I’ve found myself wondering, if we animate up until this part… just how will we approach it? The anime’s Tsubomi is so bright and sparkly, so she wouldn’t have snot hanging from her nose (vol.13 of manga), would she…? (Laughs). Perhaps we went a little too far with making her a heroine. Maybe, if we do season 2, we’ll turn her back into a normal girl (laughs). Well, Tachikawa-san is clever; I think he’ll find a way to make do with her current design.”

---

Picture text: "This is Mezato's first appearance, so I decided to make her cute!! Thank you in advance!!"

Picture text: "That girl was telling me such a stupid story this morning... aidzuchi* isn't easy, you know... I'll just ignore her tomorrow..." [* sounds made to indicate that you're listening to someone speak]

---

Asked about his favourite characters; “I love Mezato Ichi from the Newspaper Club. When I drew her in her character sheet in that pose where she’s holding her camera, I came to see her as being quite cute. So now I focus on her a lot; in fact, when I draw genga I sneakily choose the cuts that have her in them (laughs).”

“I also love Mob. Reigen stands out the most so your eyes naturally jump to him, but I love the balance that Mob has. His heads tall ratio... or rather, his face, and the way his body is proportioned? It makes him lovely. Ritsu is around the same height as Mob, but, how can I put this - the cuteness that Mob has, is lacking in Ritsu… due to the latter being quite standoffish, I suppose (laughs).”

Ritsu’s hair changing through the first season is discussed, and how it is purposefully shortened during the latter half. “I paid attention to making sure his hair was long especially while he was being possessed by Dimple. So it’d resemble thorns.”

“I feel Teru-kun is the most ‘yang’ of all the characters. The rest are more ‘yin’ in nature. Because of this, it’s easy to play around with his expressions - he’s fun to draw. Speaking in terms of Dragonball, he’s kind of like Mob Psycho 100’s Vegeta (laughs).”

“In episode 9, Dimple possesses one of Claw’s security guards, right? I don’t really understand why that security guard is so popular.” Q: What do you mean? “Because he’s just some middle-aged dude (laughs). He doesn’t even appear for long…”

After discussing the huge amount of SG!Dimple commissions received: “Unlike SG!Dimple, I don’t really get asked to draw Shou-kun. With this commission I thought to myself, I /have/ to include him here, and so I added him in. The initial brief excluded him.”

Asked about moments that stuck with him; “When Teru chokes Mob in episode 5. [...] Mob’s pained expression as he’s being choked is good, but Teru-kun’s face shows us… envy, jealousy, distress, anxiety.”

“Also, the ‘super real Reigen’ sequence from episode 12. The tension between Reigen and Sakurai is funny, but the art itself has had me laughing since production. It’s funny no matter how many times I look at it!”

Kameda’s idea to have the characters make number shapes for the volume art came from him watching ‘Tonneruzu no Minasan no Okage deshita’, specifically the ‘Mojimoji-kun’ segment of the show (where they try to make numbers from their bodies)

Volume 6’s cover art was first planned to have a whole ensemble of characters, but Kameda changed his mind on this - “if we do a second season, we can leave that for volume 12 (laughs).”

Volume 4's cover was originally planned to feature only Onigawara and Gouda, but Kameda found himself wanting to include the rest of the body improvement club

Regarding the pose we see on vol 6’s package art, “My original thoughts for that cover were to have Reigen and Mob in a ‘hell wheel’ pose, like, Mob pulling Reigen’s legs and arms… but that wouldn’t be very fitting for the final volume.”

His message to the readers; “Thank you for your support! With sales, the ‘this is popular!’ message gets conveyed, and the more support you give us, then there’s no doubt we’ll be able to produce season 2 and season 3!! Season 2 relies on your support. It’s in your hands - thank you!!”

---

Crossposted on twitter here.

[mischiefandspirits]

Gone

Barbara Gordon was targeted. Richard Grayson disappeared. Jason Todd ran away. Tim Drake was kidnapped. Stephanie Brown crashed. Damian al Ghul was killed.

Hawkfire rose from the ashes. Nightwing soared through the sky. Red Hood hunted the streets. Red X found the trail. Spoiler haunted her targets. Renegade vanquished his foes.

Batman watched over them all from the shadows.

Followed by Black Bats

Deleted scene

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Barbara Gordon was fourteen years old when she was targeted by Pamela Isley. Pamela, calling herself Poison Ivy, blamed Commissioner Gordon for the accident that resulted in her chlorokinetic abilities. She launched an attack on the Gordons’ home that landed the commissioner in the hospital then proclaimed she would reward anyone who could take down the commissioner's daughter. When word got around, it was a free-for-all. The commissioner tried to get Barbara protection, but faith dwindled after a corrupt officer sold information that resulted in the girl taking a gunshot that nearly paralyzed her. Then Barbara’s security detail was attacked by an unknown assailant as she was being escorted out of the hospital. When the girl failed to reappear, the city mourned. Isley was questioned, but she had been locked up at the time and, according to her, no one ever came forward to claim her reward. The commissioner was realistic due to his years in the force and didn’t try to push the searches past the routine timelines. When asked, he would say that they would likely never know what happened if no one came forward with information and he could only console himself with the knowledge that she was likely in a better place now.

Richard Grayson was nine years old when he disappeared from the circus he’d been born and raised in while it was stopped in Gotham. The Gotham police searched, but there was never any sign of him. Commissioner Gordon reached out to Batman, but nothing came from it. After two months the search was called off. There was too much work on GCPD’s plate for them to be putting so much of their focus on one missing child, no matter how publicized the event had been thanks to quite a few of Gotham’s elite seeking to help the poor boy. The Lost Gray Son of Gotham, they called him. His parents remained in Gotham in hopes to find their lost child, but they never succeeded.

Jason Todd was twelve years old when his father reported that he’d run away. Willis Todd, owner of the luxury casino Solitary Wing, reported that his son and an associate had been traveling to the casino together when the boy suddenly leaped from the car while it was at a stoplight and disappeared into the crowd. Despite Willis using his connections to keep it going, the search didn’t last more than a month. Runaways were just too common in Gotham for the police to put much work into it. Willis paid men to keep looking, but after a year all they could come up with was a sighting early on of a boy vaguely resembling Jason disappearing into an alley with a tall man so Willis had to give up. He and his men continued to keep an ear out for the boy, just in case, but nothing ever came of it. The closest thing was a small conspiracy theory about how a boy killed in Ethiopia by the Joker and former Gothamite Sheila Haywood a few months after his disappearance matched Jason’s description, but the theory quickly faded into obscurity.

Timothy Drake was eleven years old when his parents called in his kidnapping. The boy had been home with his nanny when someone snuck into his third-floor bedroom and stole him away. The figure was nothing more than a shadow on the cameras, long and lithe. Every one searched for the young heir, police, Batman, and civilian alike thanks to the hearty reward the Drakes offered, but the search had to be called off after a year passed. His parents continued to offer the reward for any honest information, to no avail. All that appeared were a few claims of people seeing the boy stalking the streets at night with a camera in the years leading up to his abduction, but the Drakes waved it off with the assurances that the boy’s nanny never would have allowed that.

Stephanie Brown was fifteen years old when she and her mother disappeared. Her father reported that his ex-wife must have absconded with the girl after she’d lost custody in their divorce due to an addiction problem. Three months later, Crystal Brown’s car was dredged up from the bottom of a river in Burnside with bags filled with clothing belonging to her and her daughter. The police reported both had died due to the crash, which was likely caused by Crystal’s drug habit. Stephanie’s father continued to search after he discovered their bodies were not located, but he never found them.

Damian Tate was ten years old when he was killed. He had come to Gotham with his mother to meet his father Bruce Wayne for the first time. He was taken days after their introduction by an unknown group. They held the boy for ransom, but when Wayne paid, all he received in return was a video of the boy’s death by a gunshot through the head. When police tracked down the shack he’d been held in, all that remained was charcoal and a few bits of DNA. His parents grieved, even as his mother left Gotham.

Six stories ending in grief.

This is what the news told you.

Hawkfire was the leader of the Birds of Prey, a team of heroines who operated out of Platinum Flats, California. She’d made herself known when she, Black Canary, and Huntress had teamed up to face down the Daughters of Platinum. Instead of having powers, she utilized a belt of gadgets as well as extraordinary computer skills and pyrotechnic gear.

Nightwing was the leader of the Titans, a team of outcast heroes who operated out of Jump City, Florida. He’d made himself known when he led a group of teens against an alien invasion threatening the city. Instead of having powers, he utilized a belt of gadgets as well as extraordinary acrobatic skills and escrima sticks.

Red Hood was the leader of the Outlaws, a team of antiheroes who operated out of a hidden island in the Caribbean. He’d made himself known when he and Artemis of Bana-Mighdall clashed over a job. Instead of having powers, he utilized a belt of gadgets as well as extraordinary strategic skills and an assortment of firearms.

Red X was the leader of Young Justice, a team of teen heroes who operated out of Happy Harbor, Rhode Island. He’d made himself known when he, Wonder Girl, and Impulse freed Subject 13 from a Cadmus lab. Instead of having powers, he utilized a belt of gadgets as well as extraordinary investigative skills and a Bo staff.

Spoiler was the leader of the Outsiders, a team of covert heroes who operated out of Steel City, Washington. She’d made herself known when she and Beast Boy helped save Raven from cultists. Instead of having powers, she utilized a belt of gadgets as well as extraordinary stealth skills and invisibility technology.

Renegade was the leader of the Teen Titans, a team of legacy heroes who operated out of San Francisco, California. He’d made himself known when he learned that certain young heroes were being targeted by the Demon's Fist. Instead of having powers, he utilized a belt of gadgets as well as extraordinary martial arts skills and a katana.

Oracle was a powerful computer program, one utilized by Batman in his war on Gotham’s underbelly and occasionally brought in to help on Justice League cases. Some theorized it may be a form of artificial intelligence, but none have ever been able to confirm it.

Black Bat was an urban legend, a shadow sometimes said to be seen at Batman’s side as he worked in Gotham. There was no proof of their existence except the whispers. No one could agree if they were child or adult, male or female, short and stocky or tall and lithe.

Six stories of hope and power, one story of logic, and one story of rumors.

This is what the news told you.

What the news won’t tell you?

Hawkfire’s teammates know her as Babette "Betty" Kane, but her family calls her Barb, Barbara, Mistress Barbara, Babs, Barbie, Babsy, and Kane. She was the first Oracle. She was the second to stand as Black Bat.

Nightwing’s teammates know him as Dixon Malone, but his family calls him Dick, Master Dick, Pixie, Dickie, Flyboy, and Brother. He was the first Black Bat. He was the second to work as Oracle.

Red Hood’s teammates know him as Jace Knight, but his family calls him Jay, Master Jason, Redjay, Little Wing, Red, Scrappy, and Knight. He was the third to work as Oracle and Black Bat.

Red X’s teammates know him as Alvin Draper, but his family calls him Tim, Master Tim, Shortie, Timmy, Timtim, Chipmunk, and Draper. He was the fourth to work as Oracle and Black Bat.

Spoiler’s teammates know her as Carrie Kelley, but her family calls her Steffi, Stephanie, Mistress Stephanie, Shadow, Stepstone, Stepher, Steph, and Kelley. She was the fifth to work as Oracle and Black Bat.

Renegade’s teammates know him as Terrence Malone, but his family calls him Damian, Master Damian, Dames, Dami, Demon, and Terry. He was the sixth to work as Oracle and Black Bat.

Batman to most was Gotham’s Dark Knight. A few of his Justice League companions know him as Bruce Wayne, but his family calls him something else. For Alfred, he was Master Bruce. For Barbara, he was Uncle Bruce. For Dick and Tim, he was Dad. For Jason and Stephanie, he was the Old Man. For Damian, he was Father. For all of the kids, he was their protector.

The news will tell you a lot, but they don’t always know what’s going on behind the scenes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If anyone's confused, Barbara comes first because I like The Batman (2004)'s timeline of Batgirl coming before Robin. It kind of eases Bruce into both having a partner and being a parent before Dick shows up in all his traffic light glory.

All their aliases are references so see if you can figure them out. I think Jason's is the most obscure, but we'll see (No, it's not Arkham Knight. I only remembered that connection after I'd settled on the name).

[fanficflaneuse]

One Day - Part 3

A/N: Hello, Magical tumblr friends! I have absolutely no self control. Writing has flown very easily lately and I just want to post as soon as I finish. First, as always, I want to thank you for all of your love and support. This has been awesome so far. Every little heart, reblog and note makes my heart soar. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Second, I really want to apologize in case my writing has too many mistakes. I’m a perfectionist. I usually try very hard to be polished and strive to have a near perfect grammar and spelling, but English is not my first language, so even when I reread my writing time and time again I still find a lot of mistakes. I’m sorry! I’m really trying my best and hopefully it gets better :) 

Third, this post features Fragment 31 by greek poet Sappho, translated by Jim Powell. 

Details: 

Draco x reader (she/her pronouns) Word count: 1465 Summary: One day AU. Post-war. Since The Battle of Hogwarts, Draco and y/n meet one day a year.

Enjoy! 

Masterlist 

3 May, 2000

My dearest (Y/N/N),

I imagine you probably want to burn me at the stake right now. I know I promised to write as often as possible, but the things I’ve experienced in the last few weeks have shaken me to my core. And I can already imagine you saying something along the lines of “there’s always time to scribble a few lines, it’s not that hard, Dray”, but not everyone is a talented writer like you, darling. Be it as it may, in case my words don’t grant me your forgiveness with this letter you’ll find a couple of books I’ve read lately and I’d love to discuss with my favourite bookworm.

I arrived in Prague last week. Oh, (Y/N/N)! What a wondrous place. It’s everything you described and so much more. I spent the first few days sightseeing and walking around. I ventured into the wizarding library you told me about and I could totally understand your excitement. I spent two whole days there and I don’t think I covered more than half of it. It reminded me a bit of Hogwarts and a great deal of you. I miss you terribly, (Y/N), and the only thing I’d change about this trip would be having you with me. We should go on a holiday together, explore a corner of the world we have yet to see. What do you say?

I started venturing into the muggle parts of the city as well. Muggle tourists seem to be three times more of a pain in the arse than wizard tourists are. All in all, I’ve learned a great deal from them as well. I’ve visited cathedrals and museums and I even consulted a muggle about their literature. As much as I hate to admit this, you’re right: there are some awfully great things out there. That Kafka fellow? An absolute genius. The way The Metamorphosis made me feel is nothing short of magical. What a gross book (in the best possible way).

What else can I tell you, love? I definitely needed all of this. I needed to get away from Britain, away from my parents, away from everything I once knew. I needed to get lost in places where my last name meant absolutely nothing. It has helped me put things into perspective and get to know myself. I haven’t found myself just yet. I don’t even know if it’s possible, to truly find oneself. But at least I’m ridden with questions and challenges to my old beliefs. I am not ashamed to tell you I’m terribly afraid of the answers, but I at least I don’t fear finding them anymore. The price of not asking myself all I have to learn is much too high.

I hope this letter finds you well, (Y/N/N). Tell me what’s new with you. Please make my days better with some of your poems and short stories. I miss them as much as I miss you (plus, I want to collect a bunch of your original works to boast when you’re a famous writer).

I send you all of those hugs I cannot give you right now.

Hope to see you soon.

Love,

Your cuddling partner.

D. M.

...

My dearest Dray,

I was thinking about sending you a howler when you owl arrived, lucky bastard. I’d say there are no words to describe how much joy your letter brings me, but I am want to be a writer so this doesn’t apply to me, I guess. I knew a change of scenery would open your mind to different things and I’m genuinely happy for you. I hope all of those questions lead you to live your truth and build a life that truly fulfils you.

Thank you for the books, love. I’m quite impressed by your selection. Muggle books? I never would’ve imagined you, of all people, would send me muggle literature. I’m so proud! And Kafka is wonderful. I only got my hands on some of his short stories. I guess I’ll give that little novel a go now that it has your approval stamp. I’ll read all of these books and send you a very extensive review. I won’t quite forgive you, though, until you drag your arse back here and we can have yet another cuddle session.

I’d love to go on a holiday with you, Dray. What do you propose? I’ve never been to America and I’m really curious of what it has to offer. I’d also love to go someplace sunny, enjoy the nice weather and hopefully get a bit tanned, don’t you think? (Or at least try…You’re so freakishly pale tanning seems like a big stretch).

I’ll tell you some of my news. Last week I started working at the Ministry. I’m part of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement now. It is a lot of work and it includes a great deal of paperwork, but at least I have Hermione, Harry and Ron with me. (They all send you their regards, by the way. Ron says that if you don’t bring gifts with you, you won’t be allowed at the Burrow anymore. Hermione scolded him, but the threat remains). I like helping people. I guess this is just a more official continuation of what we’ve been doing since we’re eleven, don’t you think? I am learning a lot and I am very busy. It makes me happy and excited for what’s to come.

Yesterday we went back to Hogwarts for the second anniversary of the battle. It was all very gloomy. The wounds are still fresh. I got back home and cried my heart out. But I feel it was absolutely necessary for us – all of us – to be there. We need to heal collectively, Dray. I know you say it’s not your place. I know a lot of people won’t be able to look past the mark in your forearm. Many others, though, asked me about you and your wellbeing. I am sure it is going to take a while, but I hope you can go back and face those demons. I wish for you to recover. I cherish the day in which we all do.

You have no idea how much I miss you, Draco Malfoy. Even Harry is jealous. It’s not my fault that our cuddle partnership is absolutely awesome and that he’s a terrible cuddler. I guess you’re my one and only.

I have a bunch of short stories in the works. To be honest I have been a bit lazy lately. I’m so tired once I get home that I don’t really have enough patience to work on my tragic heroines. I’ve been writing a lot of poetry, though. I write verses on napkins and stray pieces of parchment, on the back of the forms I have to fill or at the margins of the books I’m currently reading. I’ll send you a couple of them.

(…) once I look at you for a moment, I can't speak any longer,

but my tongue breaks down, and then all at once a subtle fire races inside my skin, my eyes can't see a thing and a whirring whistle thrums at my hearing,

cold sweat covers me and a trembling takes ahold of me all over: I'm greener than the grass is and appear to myself to be little short of dying.

Hope to see you soon.

Love,

Your cuddling partner.

(Your Initials).

Draco unfolded the letter and read it for the tenth time. He loved how (Y/N) could write the most erudite poems and elaborate stories, yet her letters seemed to have a more conversational tone. It made him feel closer to her. He could imagine her saying every single sentence out loud, complete with guessing where would she breathe, laugh or make dramatic pauses.

In the last two years, Draco and (Y/N) had built a one of a kind friendship. It was foreign territory even to her, who was used to a tight-knit group of friends. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit that his heart almost leaped out of his chest when he read the words “you’re my one and only”. If he had to guess, he’d say she had written that in a more teasing tone. After all, he had started with the pet names.

And yet.

The poem was the icing on the cake. He wanted to think she had written it with him in mind. Reading her writing was like having access to a very reserved piece of her mind he’d never quite grasp. And he wanted as much of it as he could get. Draco folded the letter once again and saved it with the rest. (Y/N) (Y/L/N), his best friend, would be the death of him.

Tags: @fandomscombine @okaydraco @iliketoast23 @naomi02hook

[the-ineffable-demon-crowley]

The Sweetest Wrath

Your romantic dinner with Crowley goes pear-shaped when Aziraphale unceremoniously interrupts. As your attention is captured by the angel, Crowley finds he has to use more creative means to remind the two of you just who you belong to. 

Pairing: Anthony J. Crowley x reader (ft. Aziraphale)

Warnings: Exhibitionism, little bit of voyeurism, praise kink, fingering, rough sex, dirty talk, hair pulling, car sex 

Length: 4.2k

Cross-posted to AO3 here

                     This work is a commission for @mollyplier

                                                           ⋘ ⋙

Despite what you might think, demons had very busy schedules. Well, someone had to go around tempting people into their insidious desires, spreading hate and unrest within the population. Whether that be by blocking off all the main roads with untimely construction work that never seemed to be completed, pulling down all the major phone networks on a Friday evening, or by crashing the entirety of the public library’s database during finals season, Crowley had a long to-do list. Never mind the collection of souls for the Dark Lord, a back-breaking tasks in of itself. 

Of course, that never stopped him from using his tempting charms as a means for his own good. There were a few souls that had caught his eye over the centuries, but they were far too special to be sacrificed to the Dark Lord. No, these were just for him. You were one of his finest achievements, but it didn’t take much to ensnare you. His charming walk, his easy grin, and his simple one-liners. Who could resist? It’d almost felt like you knew him for centuries, but that was just how comfortable you were with Crowley, and how much of an old soul he really was beyond the sarcastic, sniggering snake he could be sometimes. 

Still, he worked hard, even if he didn’t want to.  Which is why you loved Aziraphale, a cheeky but posh cherubic principality who was Crowley’s colleague, friend, confidante, everything. Though Aziraphale didn’t like it, he understood how useless it was to cancel each other’s work out, and would sometimes come to an agreement with Crowley over the heavenly state of the souls of some town’s population. Usually, Crowley won the coin-toss. Aziraphale never thought to ponder how Crowley was always so lucky. 

But on the off-chance that Crowley lost, Aziraphale would keep you company. He was a delightful companion, and the two of you always spent your time talking books, plants, and the bureaucracy of Heaven. Aziraphale had much to say regarding that. But now, with Crowley off unveiling the worst in people, you were sat at home alone, planning. Conniving, he would call it, and then boast about how he had done well in corrupting you. If only he knew.

You’d made a reservation for two at the RItz for you and Crowley for that very evening. It was technically Aziraphale’s favourite place, but you knew Crowley was fond of it as well, having been dragged there for drinks and crêpes since its inception in 1906. You planned the whole thing out; for dinner, a sumptuous 4-course feast, and for dessert, well... You had several decadent selections in mind, each sure to make him more insatiable than the last.

Your instructions to Crowley were simple as you typed them out on your phone. Dinner, tonight. Pick me up at 8. Stay hungry, my demon. 

His reply was swift. Ravenous already. See you tonight.

Crowley wasn’t often known for punctuality, but because you hadn’t been able to spend much time together since he was busy at... work, you supposed it was, he was outside your flat, leaning against his Bentley waiting for you at 8 on the dot. You smirked at the sight of him, black blazer, black trousers, per usual. Red hair swiped upwards, black sunglasses framing his sharp features. He was angular, positively fiendish, and he was here for your soul. 

                                                            ⋘ ⋙

As expected, the Ritz was beautiful, the vintage building’s peaks soaring into the backdrop of the starry night sky, and its patrons dripping in glamour. Guests came dressed with their savings on their sleeves, with even the most casually dressed of diners boasting expensive loungewear. You thought you fit right in on the arm of your demon, bedecked in black, and you, clad in a tasteful dress that brought out your eyes. As you made your way up towards the entrance, your arm brushed against Crowley’s, and you nearly flushed, as though this was your first date all over again. He just had that kind of effect on you. 

Despite the fact that Crowley wasn’t often one for affection, you could feel his long, strong arm slipping around your waist as he escorted you into the dining room, a quiet din of the other diners filling your ears. You sat down onto the white upholstered chair, and smiled at Crowley as a waiter came to take preliminary drink orders. Minutes later, drinks and the first course had arrived. 

“This is absolutely glorious, angel, thank you.” Crowley murmured as he tipped the mixed alcoholic concoction into his mouth. His tongue darted out to collect a stray droplet, and you watched it with fascination at its snapping movement. 

“It’ll get even better once you start eating instead of just drinking.” You quipped, lifting a forkful of your dinner to your mouth. Crowley grinned. 

“All in good time.” He raised his hand, fingers long and neatly manicured, and gestured to the waiter for another round. 

“Have Hastur and Ligur been giving you much trouble?”

“Ngk.” Crowley responded, this time taking your advice and swallowing whole his bites of dinner. However, he remained a perfect gentleman, and you couldn’t help but stare at him outfitted in his jacket and trousers. He didn’t necessarily fit in among the glitzy crowd of the Ritz dining room, but damn if he didn’t look every bit as expensive as everybody else in there, right down to the shining black gunmetal of his sunglasses. “Nothing I can’t handle. They’re attempting to delegate the planning of the next recession and stock-market crash to me, but I told them they can stick it right-”

“Oh!” A sudden soft gasp, otherwise masked by the din of the room, caught Crowley’s ear. Mostly because he’d heard it for centuries; mainly when a particularly cute creature was in view. His partner in.... something, Aziraphale. You noticed him noticing it, and turned your head to see what had caught his attention. 

“Crowley! Y/N! How lovely to see you both here!” Aziraphale was positively gleaming as he approached the dinner table, a ray of sunshine in direct opposition to Crowley’s black void. You couldn’t help but smile at the angel, appreciative at his endless enthusiasm.

“Aziraphale, what a surprise!” You returned. 

“Oh, my dear, I have been holed up in my shop for what feels like hours. I had to get out and have a nice cuppa. Speaking of which, have you read that novel I gave you yet? You simply must, I could not put it down for the life of me.” 

“Oh, I’ve gotten about halfway, and I was so shocked when one of the twins died, and- oh, please, sit down.” You hadn’t expected this interruption, but now that he was here, you simply couldn’t resist a quick chat. You were about to ask a nearby diner if you could borrow one of the chairs at their table, but one miracled itself right in front of your eyes. You glanced around at the others, the magical appearance of the chair apparently unnoticed, then at Crowley, seemingly as indifferent as ever, continuing to sip at his drink.

“Thank you, Y/N. Now, tell me what you think of the heroine.” Aziraphale happily on the chair. 

You gushed about the novel with Aziraphale for a few more minutes, admittedly completely neglecting Crowley during that time. But every time you glanced at him, he seemed to at least be paying attention, albeit drinking all the while. You had counted three or four empty glasses before the waiter came to collect them, bringing a fresh one shortly afterwards. A demon’s tolerance was essentially bottomless, so Crowley wouldn’t be anywhere near drunk yet, but it could be soon at the rate Aziraphale was talking, and Crowley with no other way to entertain himself.

“Oh, have you finished eating? Then I believe it’s time for dessert- garçon! Three of your finest strawberry crêpes, s’il vous plaît.” 

“Oh, angel, I think Y/N had planned for-” but Crowley was quickly cut off, and he sat back in the chair, raising a brow to you. You signalled to give it another minute, and you would start to shoo Aziraphale off.

“Don’t be silly, Crowley, company as lovely as YN here deserves nothing but the best- and the crêpes here are the best.” This seemed to shut Crowley up for the moment, but you could tell he was getting a little territorial over your attention, with his boot beginning to slowly trace itself against your ankle. You cleared your throat to focus, but your leg did not move, eager for a piece of Crowley during this interrupted dinner. Still, it was simply impossible to be rude to the angel, and Crowley, for whom it was somehow an endearing trait, was seemingly refusing to help. “Oh, Y/N, that reminds me, I have taken your advice and have taken up a spot of painting.”

“Oh, that’ll be fun. What medium?”

“Oil paints, I should think. I dabbled in it before, of course, tried a hand at some neoimpressionism, but I should think the classical styles are more my type, the nude portraits and the like. Positively divine.” Crowley snorted, the first indication that he hadn’t petrified and turned to stone since Aziraphale’s arrival.

“Bit biased there, aren’t you?” He drawled smugly. 

Aziraphale glanced at Crowley from the corner of his eye pettily, then looked back at you. Then as if to spite him, or perhaps out of a naive desire to simply catch your beauty on canvas, he blurted out, “You’d pose for me, wouldn’t you, Y/N? You’d make a beautiful model for a nude study.” 

Your eyes flashed and your mouth fell open slightly, lips parting in surprise. It wasn’t necessarily the request, but the fact that Crowley was right there-

“Oh, yes, I could see it now. Bedecked in honeysuckle and lavender, in your hair, against your lovely skin, you’d be heavenly. What do you think, Crowley?”

You laughed, a bit taken aback. “I’m flattered, really! But I-” 

“Oh, I should think she would be- Y/N.” Crowley leaned forward, placing his elbows onto the table. “Get your coat, sweet.” 

Aziraphale seemed genuinely confused, bless him, turning to look at the demon. In the meantime, you stood from your chair and scooped up your jacket, trying not to think about how Crowley’s darkened voice sent shivers up your spine. You knew this was coming from the moment Aziraphale even mentioned nude portraits, could almost see how his features were shadowed by lust at the thought of you. Aziraphale’s voice remained strong, but innocent. “But the crêpes haven’t arrived yet-”

“Oh, come on, Aziraphale.” He cajoled. “Let’s have a bit of a walk, hm?” Crowley inclined his head towards the exit, his red hair catching the light of the chandeliers. You smirked as the angel, still babbling, stood up and reluctantly agreed, leaving the promise of his dessert behind. 

With Aziraphale in front of you, Crowley’s arm slid possessively around your waist a little tighter this time, pulling you to him, against him as you walked between the tables. You could feel the power in his body with every step, and though you knew you were in for it now, the thought of Crowley claiming you as his was as delicious a dessert as you could ever have suggested. Despite his intimidation, you knew he was secretly enjoying this; he had found the perfect excuse to shut Aziraphale up, and finish the the night off exactly the way he wanted to- with your legs spread. 

The night air was cool but not unpleasant as a breeze traced across your skin. Your senses felt sharpened, each of his touches sending you into a frenzy as he led you towards the car. Aziraphale followed behind, one of his hands holding the other in front of him like a poised debutante. 

“Y/N, sit in the back for a moment, please.” You heard the subtle growl in his voice, and you obliged, popping open the door of the big, black Bentley and slipping inside onto the cool leather. The angel and the demon got in in front of you, and you stared at their beautiful silhouettes. Crowley, a lean, shadowy, sinful figure, and Aziraphale, a vision of purity and light even in the nighttime, even in the face of Crowley’s wrath. 

The car was silent for a beat before anybody spoke.

“My two angels,” Crowley murmured, turning back to look at you in the backseat. “You’ve both been naughty, haven’t you?” His gaze turned to Aziraphale with a slight turn of his head. Even behind the impenetrable sunglasses that perched on his nose, his gaze was heavy, dangerous. You scarcely felt yourself breathe. You were in trouble now.

“Crowley, it’s my fault, Aziraphale was just-” You began to reach forward for him. He turned his head towards you, and your mouth closed. You sat back against the backseat of the Bentley quietly, the leather creaking underneath you. It was the only noise in the car for a long moment. 

“I know what he was doing, love. Like to have a bit of a look? Bit of a flirt?” He looked at Aziraphale. “And you-” You bit your lip, eyes lifting slowly to look at him. “You know.” 

God, did you ever. Crowley had never been that much of the jealous type, but for you to have been fawning over Aziraphale like that, during a dinner meant for him to relax? It was enough to trigger the most hellish side of the demon, and you were in for it now. Heat flooded your core, and you pressed your knees together. You saw Crowley raise a brow behind his glasses, a smirk adorning his lips. He saw.

“You’re enjoying this. Would you enjoy bouncing on my cock while Aziraphale watches, then? I think it’s what you both deserve after tonight.” He inclined his head towards the angel, who began sputtering in shock.

“Crowley, I say!” But you saw his cheeks flush pink, painting the perfect picture of a cherub. You weren’t going to lie, making Aziraphale watch was one of the hottest things you’d ever heard, and you had never expected Crowley to go that far. It was clear things were going to be played by his rules tonight. 

“What d’ya say, angel?” His smirk grew wicked, and you grew hot beneath your clothing. Your reply was a whisper, but you knew he heard it, and he knew you meant it.

“Yes, Crowley.”

It took him precisely half a second to materialize in the backseat with you. It was a mess of limbs, his long and lean, and yours tangled up with him. His hands gripped your hips, and his lips found yours in a searing kiss. You moaned into his mouth at the feeling of his strong, nimble fingers beginning to trail up and down your sides, one slipping underneath your shirt to palm at your breast. His thumb rolled circles over your nipple, and you groaned your pleasure against him.

“Eyes on me, angel.” He growled in your ear. You blinked, and looked up at the man overing over you. His sharp features were illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlights outside, and whatever scarce cars drove by. You knew they couldn’t see anything; the car was probably magicked to invisibility. Crowley wouldn’t be that careless. He was lithe, but heavy, a comforting weight between your legs, and his hair already a mess from the way your fingers had been running through it. He stared down at you with black eyes, his sunglasses still on his face. “Both of you.” He barked, lifting his head to look at Aziraphale. The angel, looking quite unsettled, turned his head to look at you. Crowley’s hands made quick work of your shirt and your bra, exposing your breasts to the night air. 

You felt like you were being ravished in front of God himself, a demon laying snugly between your thighs. Crowley seemed to agree, as he bucked his hips against you, his hard erection pressing into your clothed centre.

“Fuck, Crowley, please.”

“So needy, angel, even with an audience. You’re greedy, little one.” 

His large hand snaked down to between your thighs, his fingers beginning to rub you against your trousers. You keened at the feeling, head rolling against the car door, hips squirming. He held you fast, his weight keeping you pinned down beneath him. You felt absolutely at his mercy, without even Aziraphale to dare help you now. Crowley’s fingers then found the button and zipper of your jeans, at which point he began to yank them down. 

“Crowley, is this really-” You heard him start, but your moan swallowed his words in the darkness of the car. 

“That feel good? My long fingers inside of you?” 

Precisely two of his long fingers were now buried deep inside of you, thumb on your lit, and palm slapping against your pussy. Your hands snapped forward, gripping his forearms. You felt the power beneath the corded muscles that flexed underneath his thin black blazer. The smell of smoke and leather overwhelmed you, eyes shutting tightly as his fingers increased their pace.

“Look at me. Look at me, or I won’t let you cum.” He hissed, and your eyes popped open, so desperate were you for release.

“-Yes, Aziraphale,” He addressed the angel calmly, though his eyes remained on you. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To see her splayed out, desperate, needy, begging? ‘Cept of course, it’s my cock that she’ll be bouncing on, isn’t it, love?” His thumb rolled over your clit harshly, and your hips bucked. Aziraphale couldn’t help but keep his eyes trained on you, so clearly in the throes of pleasure. He wasn’t proud of himself, and yet...

“Yes! God, yes...”

“You like him watching, don’t you?” He purred in your ear, and your ankles hooked around his hips, an attempt to bring him closer. No part of him touched you except his hand, buried in your soaking cunt. “Say it.”

“I-I... I like it! I like it- please, let me... cum.”

“Alright, I’ll allow it. Cum.” 

Stars sparked behind your eyelids, and fire tore through your insides. Your juices soaked his hand, fingers still fucking in and out of you, and you heard him groan at the sight of it. You could also feel him rubbing against your thigh in search of a bit of friction, but still, he kept his composure. A sheen of sweat covered your forehead, hair sticking to your cheeks. Aziraphale cleared his throat quietly; you’d nearly forgotten he was there at all. 

“Are you satisfied, Crowley?” He muttered. 

Crowley grinned. “Not nearly.” 

In the blink of eye, you were on top of the demon, jeans abandoned, and his cock free of his tight leather trousers. He folded his hands behind his head, mirroring your previous position, and yet it was clear he was the one in charge here. His sunglasses were also gone at this point, and the sight of his snake eyes filled you with desire. There was something so wrong about it all, being fucked by a demon with an angel staring right at you. You had no hopes of explaining this one to the Almighty. 

You could barely keep yourself upright as you straddled him, limbs still weak from your orgasm. Crowley did not care. 

“Turn around, Y/N.” 

You raised a brow, and his eyes narrowed, challenging you. You quickly changed positions, with the help of Crowley sitting up a bit in the back. You were now sitting atop of him, staring directly in the face of Aziraphale, sitting in the passenger seat. If he had looked uncomfortable before, he was positively faint at this point. It was clear he wanted to look away, and yet, if either by some wicked temptation or by Crowley’s clear commands, he did not. Not for a second. 

Not even when your eyes rolled to the back of your head as the tip of Crowley’s cock rubbed against your folds. Instantly, you felt desire electrify your insides, and you wanted nothing more than to sink down onto him. But you needed his permission first. He rubbed the pre-cum against you, and you felt your juices slowly dripping down your thighs. You shuddered, hips bowing down to try to take him in. He chuckled. 

“You still want my cock, love? Right in front of Aziraphale?”

You lifted your eyes to the actual angel’s, and he gave you a slight smile as if to assure you. Angel or not, he couldn’t have not been enjoying this display. 

“Yes, I want your cock always, Crowley, please, please fuck me.” 

“Whatever my angel so desires. Keep your eyes on him and I might let you cum again.” 

With one hand on your hip pulling you towards him, he used the other to guide himself into you. Thick, long, and hard, he filled you entirely, and you felt stuffed as you seated him inside of you right to the hilt. You heard Crowley growl underneath you, the only time he had lost his composure during this entire affair. His hand pushed against your hip, encouraging you- pushing you to build up your rhythm. You gyrated your hips against him as hard and fast as you could, but it didn’t feel like enough to Crowley.

You bounced against his cock, tits bouncing in front of Aziraphale, hands reaching for the headrest to steady yourself. Crowley’s hips, powerful and strong, fucked up into you as his cock filled your walls. You felt him shift slightly, and the instant he hit that special spot, your back arched.

“There, is it?” Crowley’s voice was rough, and his grip, his pace, was rougher. “Look at you, being fucked right here in the backseat, absolutely soaking wet for my cock, even with someone watching. You are a little minx, aren’t you?” 

His dirty words spurred you on, bouncing as quick as you could, chasing your high. You knew Crowley’s permission wouldn’t come easily this time, and you had to make it count. 

“Aziraphale, isn’t she lovely?” 

Your eyes flitted to the angel’s, then fell, and he swallowed, clearly affected by the sight of you. “Positively decadent.” 

“And she belongs to me.”  

His fingers wrapped around a handful of your hair, bending your neck back. You felt his teeth scrape against the exposed skin, and you cried out at the feeling of the pleasure and pain mixing. “Look at him while you try to cum.”

One of his hands traveled between your legs, and his fingers pinched your clit. You nearly sobbed, and you wanted nothing more than to collapse, but still, he kept you going. Your release was coming, and coming hard. Crowley could feel it by the way your hips began to stutter, your pace slowing as your limbs grew weak from the exhaustion.

“Don’t you stop.” He yanked your hair harder, and you moaned in response, the stinging sensation in your scalp a delicious addition to the pounding between your legs. His cock, hot and hard, was hitting you over and over again in the your most sensitive of places. But you were so close, so close.

“Please le-let... me cum!” You begged, his fingers gripping your hair and your neck bending as you stared into Aziraphale’s eyes. Crowley’s fingers began to tweak at your clit, but his permission didn’t come. You cried at the feeling, continuing to fuck yourself against his cock without any sign of release in sight. 

“Tell me who you belong to.” You could hear his voice becoming ragged as he fought the urge to cum himself, eyes fixated on the way your ass bounced against his hips, his cock disappearing in and out of you. 

“You! You, Crowley, only you... Please!” 

“Cum.” 

With one single word, you fell to pieces. You fell forward as his hand released your hair, his hands now gripping your hips harshly as he sought his own release. You moaned at the feeling of letting him use you for his own pleasure as your cum soaked his cock, your thighs, and the leather of the Bentley beneath you. Your fingers slipped against the plastic interior of the car door, trying to no avail to get a grip on your surroundings. He thrusted in and out of you a handful of times again before cumming, hot spurts of cum filling you up inside, then slowly beginning to trickle out. 

Crowley’s hands, no longer harsh, but strong, moved to disengage himself from you, and reached for some napkins to help you clean up. You reached for your shirt and jeans, and began to dress yourself as awkwardly as you could in the small space. Crowley’s hair was mussed, and his perfect skin glowed with sweat. You felt your hair sticking to you, and the heat of Crowley’s cum still inside you. Limbs weak, you allowed yourself to be collected in Crowley’s arms.

Aziraphale cleared his throat quietly.

“Yes, well... that was-”

“Divine? Tempting enough to immortalize on canvas?” Crowley finished with a grin. You felt him chuckle beneath you, and you snuggled in close to his chest. 

“No! Goodness, no, I, uh... get the message.”

“Glad to hear it. You alright, love?”

“Yes, Crowley.” 

“Good. Shall we get some dessert?” 

You saw Aziraphale’s gaze light up, and you knew that his eyes were never meant for you. Only Crowley’s.

[tuffduff]

Dead Batteries (Izzy Stradlin x Reader)

Paring: Izzy x Reader

Words: 1,517

Request: @tonightiggypop “Hi! Could you write an Izzy Stradlin imagine where he meets you after becoming sober?”

A/N: So...I wrote all of this only to realize you had said “meet” (oops) so this is slightly different, but I hope you like it anyways! I know the least about Izzy out of the original five, so I also hope he comes across right. Thanks for requesting beautiful!

You had been Izzy’s companion for years. Maybe companion wasn’t the best word; companions got the luxury of being side by side with someone, right? But that wasn’t always the case.

Growing up in Lafayette, Indiana, there wasn’t exactly a lot to do. You were there before Axl came into the picture. And even when Izzy started spending more and more time with the unpredictable firecracker redhead, he would come back to you. He needed to, he would say when he turned up at your bedroom window late at night and you had to sneak him in so your parents wouldn’t hear. “I need to recharge my batteries.” He would explain after spending days on end with Axl.

“Then why did you come to me?” You would ask. Surely, recharging batteries was a solo kind of thing. He would merely shake his head.

“You’re the only person who really gets me.”

He talked about moving away all the time, to LA was what he reckoned. By the time you both graduated, you were heartbroken; you always knew he was going to do it. It was bittersweet. It was time.

“I wish I could pack you up and take you with me in my suitcase,” he would joke. You would never forget the day he left. There was a long moment of silence between the two of you, along with long looks that always led to you both looking away, only to look back helplessly. It was as if you both wanted to say something, but that something might have changed his plans, and you weren’t about to let that happen. So, you put your own feelings on the back burner and kissed his cheek and hugged him tightly, allowing yourself a tear or two to fall when he couldn’t see, making sure they were gone when you pulled away to look at him one last time.

“Make me proud,” you whispered. He nodded solemnly, still unable to share anything he had inside of him.

Did you love Izzy? Probably. You would actually be lying if you said anything otherwise, it was almost like you didn’t have a choice. He seemed to be a fixture in your life, like furniture that had always been there. “How’s Izzy doing?” Was what your parents would ask you second to how you were doing. You knew in your heart you loved him; it was a truth weaved into the fabric of your very being.

You were still in Lafayette when Guns N’ Roses made it big. Of course, Izzy had kept you updated on every band he played with up until that point, the gigs that had been shitty, the ones that made him feel like he was actually doing the right thing. The low points, the moment of doubt, asking your opinion on lyrics he had written, playing you “Happy Birthday” over the phone on his guitar when he couldn’t be there. You cherished those phone calls, but over time, something changed. He sounded different, after all, you would know. Izzy didn’t sound like your Izzy anymore.

Soon the calls stopped coming altogether. You watched from afar as Guns N’ Roses really made it big. You were absolutely shattered. It was more bitter than sweet now; yes, he had made it. Yes, you were proud. But making it also apparently meant leaving you behind. With fame and fortune and success, you were a part of his life he seemingly no longer needed, or wanted. Forgotten. Or so you thought.

It was raining one night, a downpour so violent you couldn’t really relax in your lone apartment. You almost thought you imagined the knocking on your door. You almost thought you were going crazy entirely when you finally opened it to see Izzy, soaked to the bone and looking as though it were hard for him to breathe.

“Izzy?” You managed to get his name out of your mouth. “What are you doing here?” Any other person would’ve pushed their way inside to take shelter from the rain, but as he stared at you, it was like he didn’t feel it. His eyes softened, and you could see them glistening despite the rain. Finally, he stepped inside silently, dripping water onto your floor, and pulled you tightly against him, effectively soaking you too. You let him.

“You look exactly the same,” he whispered into the crook of your neck. His voice was breathless, and thick with relief. His embrace was tight, keeping you bound to him, refusing to let go.

“What are you doing, Izzy...” You asked, holding him back. The moment felt surreal. He was a big rockstar now, he shouldn’t be standing in your apartment.

“I got your address from your parents.” You pulled back finally to give him a bewildered look. He sighed, shrugging and avoiding your gaze. “I’m here because...I’ve got a lot of explaining to do. And my batteries have been dead for a long time.”

He didn’t want to get your furniture wet, so the two of you sat together on the floor of your apartment as he explained how he got mixed up in heroin. How exhilarating it was to have a taste of success, but how he knew in the back of his head he needed to cut the shit. How he felt like he couldn’t. How he was too ashamed to call. How it got worse and worse.

“I thought you got too famous for me,” you admitted, now being the one to avoid his gaze. After a long moment of silence, Izzy grabbed your hand.

“You have no idea how much I missed you this entire time, Y/N. I wanted to call, I just couldn’t. Axl would try to get me to call, to fly you in to see us play, but I just felt so...ashamed. I didn’t feel good enough for you to see me. I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

He explained he was sober. That he came back home, for good.

“I needed to get away from LA. And this is the only place that has you in it.” He smiled a little as he looked down, playing absently with the bands around his wrist. “I’ve got a lot of good memories here.”

Maybe there was something about having him back physically in front of you, maybe it was the vulnerable spilling of emotions, the way it felt like the two of you were teenagers sitting in your room again, but you finally grew the courage to suck in a breathe and spit out the only thing you had been thinking for the last few years.

“I should’ve gone with you.” He looked surprised. You wondered for a second if he didn’t feel the same until he squeezed your hand that he was still holding.

“I had the same thought every day. But really, I shouldn’t have left without telling you how I really felt.” The pounding rain had softened outside the four walls of your apartment, allowing you to really focus on his light words, on the weight they carried. “Y/N, I’ve been in love with you since we were 12, I’m pretty sure. And there were times I thought maybe you felt the same, or at least hoped. Like the time you made me come with you to the junior high ball and we slow-danced, but never talked about it again. You wouldn’t believe how many songs I’ve written that were inspired all by you. And leaving you behind that day was the hardest thing I had to do.” Overwhelmed, you grabbed the other hand you weren’t already holding.

“But you did make me proud,” you reasoned. He chuckled, shaking his head.

“It never felt like it to me. But I’ve decided that’s up to you—you’ve always believed in me anyways. I don’t care who I make proud anymore. I’m happy with what I’ve accomplished, but I want to move forward. I don’t want to make you proud, Y/N, I want to make you happy. And I want you.” All prior feelings of hurt completely evaporated. It was as if the old and rusty lock to the gate of your heart’s emotions had been cut loose, freeing you to feel only unwavering love, empowering love—love that made you feel like you were soaring.

“I wanted to tell you too, before you left. God, I wanted to stop you but I didn’t want to keep you from your dreams. I love you, Izzy, I always have.” He pulled you towards him by your interlaced hands into a kiss, your first kiss together, making up for lost time with years of passion, longing, and love fueling it. He pulled back finally, taking one of his hands to smooth down your hair.

“Screw dreams, once you’ve lived them you realize what matters in life is something real. My heads never been more clear than now. No matter where life takes me next, I know I want you with me. I love you.” It was an apology, an affirmation, and a promise all in one, and better than any song to your ears.

[pegasus-parfait]

⚝

"It's so good to spend time with the people I love the most. Being a Precure and helping everyone it's my duty, but it's really good to enjoy a break without worrying about saving the day as well!!"

[yangyeet]

Is This Heaven (pt. 1)

Pairing: Jaemin x Reader (ft. friends!Jisung & Donghyuck)

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Status: Finished. Preview Here; Part 2 Here; Part 3 Here!

Prompt: In a world where people have their soulmate's name on their body somewhere, you find yourself caught in a dilemma that would result in a whirlwind of events. Are you ready to face this challenge in a world known to be cruel? Will you find your heaven in a place where people refuse to follow their hearts? Or will you fall as a victim to the legend?

Word Count: 3K

You didn’t really know the reason why, but the predicament seemed to be boiling at the back of your head more than ever before. No one had answers for you and every time you would try to ask questions, someone would always be there to brush you off. 

It was always, “you’re too young to know,” or, “don’t ask questions and just do what the universe says.” The same repetitive mantras were circling around your head like the pestering birds that would spin around a cartoon character’s head.

Rolling off your bed, you got up once again and walked up to the mirror in your room. Almost as if in a trance, you raised your arms up to inspect them. There was nothing. Not a single mark or tattoo. 

Lifting your leg up as far as your flexibility allowed you to, which you admittedly needed to work on, you checked for any signs there. Nothing. Was there a spot that you or your parents had missed over the years? Apparently not.

You had always hoped that it was a mistake. Maybe the heavens had something different in store for you. Perhaps you’d be one of the YA novel heroines who would break the odds and be the rare individual who’d be special. At least that’s what you’d say to console yourself. 

Disappointment was the only real emotion that was keeping you company right now, like a deviant who covered you with a warm blanket and attempted to coax you by telling you how different you were from everyone else.

You had always imagined what it would be like having a soulmate assigned to you. Girls around your age would always brag about who their soulmate was. They’d proceed to pull out their sparkly, diamond rings and boast about how lucky they were. But that would lead you to always wonder: what if you got paired off with some stuck-up, nosy asshole? You wouldn’t put it past the universe to pull a trick like that if it had been given a chance. 

In fact, the scenario was pressing down on your mind so much that you couldn’t take it anymore. Unable to contain your agitation, you plopped back down to your bed and dialed your best friend, Jisung Park. You appreciated Jisung’s presence and hoped that he would be able to provide you some comfort. 

Although you could tell that he also had his own worries and thoughts swarming around his mind, you often felt relieved that he was willing to listen to you and console you every single time. This wasn’t the first time you’d contact him for this issue either.

In the rules for soulmates, there was no exact command about sharing your status with a friend, or your own immediate family for that matter. Therefore, it made sense that Jisung had known about your situation ever since you had met. You’d trust the boy with your own life if you had to. 

After the first ring had passed, Jisung picked up the phone. “I was in the middle of Tiger King?! What do you want?” Although he was acting annoyed by your call, you could tell that he was just joking around. 

“Finally got to that movie?” He hummed. “Um, well, it’s about my situation.”

“Oh…”  His voice softened down several tones and you could hear him shift on his sofa. The only thing that was heard on the line for a bit was soft breathing and the sound of the door slamming. “Stay on the line with me. I’m coming over with some popcorn I made.”

“You? Make popcorn?” You tried to joke, although your heart really didn’t feel as into it. 

He whined on the call. “Listen, I only burned the kitchen down once! Once, alright?” 

Jisung’s house was down the street from yours so you immediately kicked the sheets down and tumbled off the bed, nearly falling down in the process as you stumbled to your front door. The bell rang several times when you opened the door and you frowned, seeing Jisung smirking at you. 

“I hate you,” you said before eyeing the popcorn bowl in his hand. “Plain?” 

“Love you. And cheddar,” he answered before handing you the snack. 

“Upstairs?” You nodded as you guys headed up to your room. Jisung made himself comfortable, jumping onto your bed and wrapping himself in the blankets like a caterpillar. “What’s up?” He asked as you snatched your pillows from under him and laid down. 

“Well...I’m just scared. It’s...scary. Just thinking that maybe I’ll be lonely forever. You know what the legends say about people without tattoos who confessed to someone they liked,” you shuddered, imagining the horrors you’d heard. Jisung nodded. 

“So don’t fall in love.” 

You deadpanned. “You’re saying that like it’s the easiest thing in the world. What if I do? What’s it like, falling in love?

Jisung’s eyes sparkled at your question so much that he broke out of his cocoon and soared to the bowl of popcorn in your arms.  “(Y/n), it was the coolest thing ever! I didn’t expect myself to get paired with anyone good, but I was little so I really didn’t care as long as I could eat whatever. We do have our ups and downs though so it’s not always the best. But we manage.” His closed his eyes and put his hands over his heart in a melodramatic way and you couldn’t help but to chuckle in amusement. 

“Cute.” Before he could move away, you pinched his cheeks. He puffed them out and then stuck his tongue out playfully, moving back to his little blanket. “You know, you look like a squirrel when you do that.”

“Do I really? Jaemin says the same thing.”

“Who?”

“My best friend.”

“I was unaware of this...Jae dude. I thought I was your best friend,” you scoffed, slightly looking off to the side. 

“Drama queen. You are, sometimes.”

Taking the nearest pillow, you threw it at him and held your arms to shield your head at the retaliation that was surely to come. When you didn’t feel the impact of a pillow, you slowly lowered your hands, peeking to see if he was playing a trick on you. Instead, you were met with a camera flash. 

“You look perfect,” he snorted before showing you the picture. If you could determine anything by looking at the picture, it was far from perfect. Your hair was ruffled messily from lying in bed, eyes squeezed shut, arms hovering over your hand, and- ooh was that an old pizza stain on your shirt? You peered down to see that yes, it was a stain. That wasn’t very flattering. You groaned and tried to rub off the mess, before turning back to the boy on your bed. 

“Um, I hope you aren’t sending that to someone.”

“Maybe...it’s fine, he doesn’t know you and your face is covered!” He hit send before you could refute and childishly stuck his tongue out at you. 

“I called you over to make me feel better,” you groaned. Now, whoever he sent that to would forever know you as the girl with the pizza stain on your shirt. That wasn’t a very appealing title to be known for. Honestly, you would’ve preferred something like The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. It sounds majestic and more stylish than whatever gig you had going.

There wasn’t much time to overthink, however, as his phone vibrated only seconds after he sent the picture. You looked at him. “I wanna see.”

Feeling guilty for his early actions, he scooted over to move beside you and opened up the snap, seeing a black screen in response. The captions below had you choking on air. “Who’s that girl with the pizza stain on her shirt?”

You glared at Jisung who raised his arms defensively. “Hey, not my fault! Gotta keep the streak going, you know.” He snatched his phone above your head and typed a response before sending it. It didn’t take long for the other mystery boy to reply. 

This time, the phone was within your sight and you looked at his snap. The boy had sent a side picture of his face, just enough so that you could see his pink, cotton-candy dyed hair and his dark eyes. He had written one line under his picture. “Don’t worry, I’m not going for her. I’m just tryna know who took my baby away from me.” Following his message, you could see variations of heart emojis spammed throughout the snap, which made you wonder how fast the boy has his response ready.

“His baby?” You scoffed. “Excuse me, I knew you first.” Possessively reaching over, you fluffed his hair and pulled him into a quick hug. 

“I’m don’t belong to any of you. And he chose to call me baby before you,” he defended himself and then began to smirk. “Also, wanna mess around with him?” Nodding, you took his phone from him.

You turned the camera around to focus on yourself and decided to send a picture of yourself in the same manner that he had. Positioning the camera to capture the side of your face, you ruffled a couple of strands of your hair as fake side bangs. To add an extra twist, you put the index finger of your other hand on your lips. Jisung just watched with humor at your actions. 

Taking the picture, you showed it to him. “Good?” 

He smiled. “Oh my god! My little child, all grown up! Damn~” 

You playfully shoved his shoulders and then focused your attention back on the image. Deciding on a caption was difficult in general, but you came up with one pretty quickly. “This is Pizza Stain Girl. Can I see your face?” You nearly patted yourself on the back for the bold approach and hit send. You didn’t really know why you were playing around with this strange boy, but he seemed interesting enough. At the very least, he was distracting you from your predicament. You’d take this any day over being stressed. 

As expected, the mysterious boy sent you another snap almost immediately. Jisung craned his neck over your shoulders to look at the response. Unfortunately for you, you opened the notification only to see the boy sending a picture of the bottom half of his face with his mouth in a grin. “I’ll send it only if I see you first.” You read the caption aloud before slamming the phone on your soft blankets. Owner of said phone nearly slammed into your hand, grabbing for his phone. He cradled it as if it were the baby from the lion king. 

“No! My phone!”

You were covering your face with your hands. You had only seen two pictures of this boy, not even decent pictures, and you were nearly whipped for him. Even with your eyes closed, you could imagine his soft pink hair bouncing with each step he would take, his smile bright enough to blind the sun. His skin looked slightly tanned from the angle of the photo he had taken. And his lips - oh god, his lips. They were slightly glossy and a darker shade of pink in comparison to his hair, as if he had applied chapstick right before taking the image. You could almost imagine how his lips would feel. Almost.

Jisung snapped his fingers in front of your face and you looked at him. “Stop daydreaming, beauty queen. You gonna reply to him?” 

He handed you his phone again and you took a selfie. Or rather, you took several selfies and chose the one that you find to be the best. It was a process of trial and error that had your best friend rolling his eyes back and sighing heavily. “It’s just a picture!”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “iTs jUsT a PiCtuRe,” you mocked him. He huffed a quiet drama queen under his breath before laying back and watching you contemplate what to say. “Ok, I’ll just say hi and hope for the best.” Taking a deep breath of courage, you sent the message and shoved the phone back to Jisung. “I can’t watch.”

He laughed. “It’s not that deep. Oh look: a reply. It’s his face. Here, look at it.”

Slowly, you dared yourself to look at the screen and felt blood rush to your face. Oh dear god, he was so handsome. You could now clearly see him in the image before you. He looked like he was sculpted by god himself, created for the heavens itself. The caption below convinced you even more. “You’re gorgeous, baby.” The nickname had your heart fluttering, even though you probably should’ve been repulsed by a stranger flirting with you. It seemed so natural though. 

“Jisung Park. Who is he? I need to know for a friend.” 

He backed away from you, looking slightly disgusted. “Ew, first of all, he’s my friend. Second, you don’t wanna get involved with him. Trust me.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” 

He glanced down at your arm before shaking his head. “I just want you to stay safe and not do something stupid. Also, he’s Jaemin. Na Jaemin.”

 Before he could even finish saying the boy - Jaemin’s - name, you fished out your phone from the depths of your pocket and pulled out snapchat. “Share.” 

He sighed again, turning his phone off. “No, this is dangerous. You’re falling for him.” 

You shook your head. “Falling? In love? You know I can’t do that. I’m just admiring him from a healthy distance.” 

“Listen, find him if you want. I’m not going to be responsible.” 

You huffed and sat back on your bed, grabbing the discarded bowl of popcorn and sitting back. Although you’d give up when it came to Jisung, knowing how stubborn he was, you had other sources. 

You sent Jisung off the next day after an abrupt sleepover. Things weren’t as awkward after the last interaction thanks to you dropping the subject, but you weren’t done with it. You knew some of Jisung’s friends back from when you were in school and you knew that they might be willing to provide you a little more info, especially considering they didn’t know your little situation. 

Putting on your coziest outfit, you did a once-over in front of the mirror, checking to see if any marks had appeared in the night and then frowned at the obvious let-down. Putting your hair into a quick bun, you ran down to put on some sneakers and raced out of the house to the person who you knew could help you best: Haechan.

Haechan’s real name was Lee Donghyuck but he preferred to go by what he referred to as his “super dope, completely original street name.” He was always the life of the party and a social butterfly who knew just about everybody. However, he was pretty observant and you knew you had to be cool with your little game around him. He was great at keeping secrets, so you knew you had chosen the right person when you showed up to his door, noticing him leaning comfortably against the frame with a lazy smile.

“What’s bothering you, darling?” He asked sweetly, the words flowing out of his mouth like honey. 

You felt warm at his concern and walked into his apartment. “Well, there’s something I want to ask,” you started. 

“Hm. I’m listening.” 

You plopped down onto his couch and took one of the sugar cubes in the bowl on the table next to you.

“I’m trying to find someone. Socials, status, anything,” you confessed. 

He raised his eyebrows. “You? Want dirt on someone?”

“Not exactly dirt,” you responded. “More like...I want to know about this person.”

“Oh, okay. What’s his name?”

“Jaemin.” 

His mouth nearly dropped at your response. “Darling, why-I mean, what do you want to know?”

He seemed to show a similar reaction to when you had asked Jisung, which set off a red flag in your mind, but you ignored it thinking that it was nothing.

“Like I said, any kind of info you have. Lay it on me,” you responded. 

“Well, his name is Na Jaemin. Korean. Born on August 13, 2000. His instagram...here, give me your phone and I’ll give his snapchat and number to you too,” he swiftly recited, as if the whole statement was scripted and burned into his memory. 

You handed him your phone and poked his shoulder. “Damn, you know his whole autobiography. You know him?” 

“No-” He denied quickly, shoving your phone back to you. “If that’s all you want…”

“Wait, you know where he’s from?” 

He stuttered and you lowered your eyes. Haechan definitely knew something he wasn’t telling you. It was odd that he was showing you such a weakness so soon and you could feel the strange feeling engulf the room. You never felt this vibe around him. The air turned cold and the boy suddenly started to scare you. 

“No. Now, I gave you what I know. I have a client coming over soon.” His voice was firm. The message he wanted to convey echoed clearly in the room. I’m done. Go away. 

But clearly, you came too far to stop. In fact, why would he not tell you more if he gave you everything else?

“Donghyuck,” you used his real name, “What are you hiding?” 

His aura was intimidating, but you wouldn’t back down. He looked like he was about to say something else, but you both jumped when you heard a loud noise outside,

A shiver ran down your spine as you heard the apartment door behind you guys unlock. 

“Shit, hit me up with some gauze man.”

Turning around, you nearly passed out. There, right in front of you, was the man who you had been inquiring about, in the flesh. His pink hair was just as you imagined. Fluffy, soft, and looking as if it had been pulled on a lot. His nose was scrunched and his teeth bit down on his lower lips. You took a deep breath and looked further down to see his arms wrapped around his waist as he hobbled over to the couch you were sitting in. 

Haechan looked just as shocked at his appearance and looked back and forth between you guys. “Ugh-let me get it.” He ran to the bathroom, mumbling curses and insults at the timing of the boy. 

You didn’t care much about your mumbling friend. The injured boy sat down beside you, slightly wincing in pain before shining you one of his award winning smiles.

“Baby, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Jaemin.”

[lowkeytesss]

A Stranger’s Vow - Chapter 2

Pairing: Loki x OFC

Summary: A stranger arrives in Asgard, claiming to have received an invitation, but neither Odin nor his sons have any idea who she is. The princes are shocked when their father invites the mysterious young woman to stay at the palace. But when the God of Mischief catches her in a lie, minutes after her arrival, he takes it upon himself to unravel her story. The more he knows, the more he cares… and it might just cost both of them their lives.

Author’s Note: There is mention of Frigga’s murder in Thor: The Dark World, but the story does not follow canon events after her death. In this version, Odin has reluctantly allowed Loki to go free in recognition of his role in saving Thor and Jane, and Thor remains in Asgard to try to keep the peace between the two of them.

And here’s a fun surprise! The heroine of this story is an OFC based on a completely different fandom. I’d love to hear your guesses before she reveals her backstory!

Warnings: nothing for this chapter... but there will be grief, angst, fluff, smut, violence, etc. later on

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 - The Garden

Once the throne room was far behind them, the massive doors becoming smaller and smaller as they made their way down the long hall, Loki stopped abruptly and turned to Elin with his arms folded across his broad chest.

“You managed to deceive Odin. I’m impressed,” he spoke as if the compliment was somehow intended for himself rather than Elin.

“Deceive Odin? I don’t understand, your highness.” Elin managed to disguise her panic as confusion.

“I’m the God of Lies, Lady Elin. Odin can be quite gullible, under the right circumstances; however, you’ll find I’m not so easily fooled.”

His pride soared as he noticed that she was frozen under his predatory gaze. Not even for a second had she seemed intimidated by the crowd, the guards, or even Odin himself upon her entry to the throne room, but he could easily see his own effect on her as he circled her. Her cheeks were flushed and he was sure he’d be able to see her heart pounding in her chest if he allowed himself to look down. He kept his eyes locked on hers, though; there was no time for distractions.

“Everyone has tells when they lie,” he continued. “Yours were nearly imperceptible though, I’ll admit. I’ve met a mere handful of beings whose untruths were performed so well. It seems you are an expert in deception, not unlike myself.”

She opened her mouth to make a second attempt to convince him of her confusion, but he was relentless in his interrogation, continuing without giving her a chance to speak.

“You knew of my mother’s death long before your arrival, did you not?” His voice was stern, but she could hear the layer of curiosity that lay beneath.

Continue Reading on AO3

[huicitawrites]

Hello, could I have Tatsumaki from OPM with a fem or gender neutral reader? Really appreciate it if you feel okay doing it. Thanks!

“A tad crazy”

Yandere! Tatsumaki x Reader

headcanon

a/n: No worries love! I am pleased to write for you :3. I’ve made it rather short thou, so tell me if you want a re-write! (ps: i didn’t know wether you actually preferred female reader so next time please be more specific!! i don’t want to disappoint you :/ )

warning: stalking (?), possesiveness, overprotective attitudes, yandere theme.

————————————————————————————————————————

Tatsumaki:

How to put into words... she is a bit intense

Picture a spoiled brat running a tantrum.

Now, add the child sea-weed hair and mad psychic powers, and the fact she is an S-Rank heroine positioned second plus a ghostly dark dress.

Yep, you’re fucked.

Outright protective; will absolutely curse the hell out of whoever approaches you with hostile intentions -what she deems it- and proceed to apply her powers.

Depending what they’ve done, sometimes it is just a scare. A toss around the streets. Other times, she reduces them to dust.

Don’t let us begin with her possessiveness, it uneases you. but don’t blame her, you at her side brings her relief

How she glares at your friends and how you can feel the room drop by many degrees as the tension soars. To add on the intimidation, her eyes shine a vibrant green and her hair floats.

You had dreamt of escaping from her clutches, of walking freely without a care.

However, that is the realm of fantasies and unfortunately for you; you live in the realm of nightmares.

Not a day goes by that you cannot feel her gloomy presence around yours.

Almost as if she posses your mind.

For she does not need to stalk you because she knows where you are at all times. She knows what you are doing and what you are thinking. A little trick from her psychic powers.

You cannot escape her- and you have tried enough to probe the hypothesis.

Changed your full name and ID. Died your hair, cut it, put on lenses, damn you even considered plastic surgery.

Nonetheless, she found you every single time and talked to you as if nothing happened.

As if she is not crazy in the least.

[wavesmp3]

Room 18a

pairing: lee jihoon x reader genre: soulmate au wc: 1.2k warnings: murder, minor and major character death...  a/n: in a universe where the name of your soulmate is tattooed on your wrist and you don’t age until you meet them

Disgust. Is the first thing Jihoon feels when he walks into the back hall of the club. The sweaty air and tight walls littered with stolen kisses and discarded hearts makes his fist clench tightly around the package secured in the pocket of his jacket. He scoffs. Of course you would choose a place like this. He reads the tags next to each door lining the hall. 

15a. 16a. 17a… ah. He checks the text you sent earlier that night to confirm the room number. Once he’s checked, he clicks his phone off and stuffs it into his pocket opening the door to room 18a.   

“Jihoon,” you say once he’s entirely inside the room, “took you long enough.” 

“Sorry,” he mutters heartlessly. The apology burning his tongue. 

You nod. “Do you have it then?” 

Jihoon reaches into his pocket and pulls out the package wrapped in old newspapers and hands it to you. 

You unwrap the packing greedily, and once the flask is uncovered, the light of its contents shine onto your face. A green halo encompasses your head. 

“I hate this part,” you scowl despite the way you hold the flask so tightly as if you’re scared it’ll slip from your fingers and shatter. 

“Just get it over with.” Jihoon tells you already tired of the transaction and the stench of death. 

You pop open the cork of the flask and down the green solution, scrunching your nose at the smell and taste. 

“It’s worse than normal this time,” you cough eyeing the empty flask before handing it back to Jihoon. He shoves the flask back into his pocket. “How long do I have?” 

“Fifteen minutes.” 

You inhale slowly, tears surfacing beneath you eyes. “He said his name was Vernon,” you say quietly kneeling beside his body and pulling out the needle in his arm, “Only found out his name was actually Hansol when he pulled out his ID for the bouncer. This one hurts more than the others,” you say shakily, staring at your tattooed wrist. And when you twist your wrist to fall back on the velvet carpet, Jihoon can clearly see the name Hansol printed on it. Jihoon stares at his own empty, untattooed wrist with a saddened gaze. He’s envious of you, that in your prolonged lifetime, you’ve had many soulmates, but Jihoon, with his short lifespan in comparison to yours, can’t even have one. 

“Jihoon,” you call, patting the patch of carpet next to you and next to Hansol, “sit with me.” And when he does, you snake your arm around his, settling your head on his shoulder. Jihoon feels a lone tear fall from your cheek onto the fabric of his coat. “Tell me about the others.” You tell him, burying your head further into his shoulder. And when your voice cracks, and your nails dig into the skin on his arm with so much force he can almost feel the pain in your heart, Jihoon can’t help but comply. 

So he does. He tells you about your first and deepest love: Minghao who the frozen lake swallowed whole. He tells you about Joshua, the sweet one, whose heart stopped so suddenly one night. He tells you about Jeonghan who went hiking and never came back, and about Soonyoung who shot himself in the head. Finally, Jihoon tells you about Hansol who traded in his life for heroin. 

With each name of your past soulmates that leaves from his lips, your sobbing grows. Louder, greater, sadder; and Jihoon’s heart falls apart at the sound. But he remembers to catch the fragments of your humanity that fall from your eyes. 

You cries grow softer, whispering their names into the collar of Jihoon’s coat, but when you get to Hansol’s name, your cries increase yet again. “I think I loved him. Hansol,” you add as if Jihoon needs clarification. “Why do I do it? If it pains me so much, why do I bother?”

Jihoon doesn’t respond. That same question being the same one that haunts him every night. The same one he couldn’t find an answer to, no matter how hard he tried. He looks down at your face only to find you already staring at his. There’s a lingering green light in your eyes that has shivers running down Jihoon’s spine. You shift and catch his lips with yours. It only registers a second after that you’re kissing Jihoon, and Jihoon is kissing you back. Your lips are wet and taste of salt, but that doesn’t stop the butterflies soaring in Jihoon’s stomach. Rather what makes Jihoon pull away is the reason in his head that reminds him that no matter how pretty you are and no matter how much you make his heart swoon, you’re still a cold-blooded murderer. 

Jihoon checks his watch. “We should go,” he says in a crisp manner, “your fifteen minutes are almost up.” 

Fifteen minutes, Jihoon thinks. Fifteen minutes and you remember why you torture yourself like this. Fifteen minutes and you forget the names of the boys you loved and the boys you killed. You forget they even existed, but you remember the intent. You remember the purpose. Fifteen minutes and you go back to being immortal. You go back to never aging. Fifteen minutes and the serum, that you have entrusted Jihoon with concocting despite you being perfectly capable of making it yourself, takes affect.

And so the two of you leave, and your fifteen minutes pass by. Jihoon troubles himself with wondering why he had to owe you. He wonders why you bother involving him at all. As Jihoon walks you home, he sneaks a glance at your wrist. Hansol’s name is slowly disappearing. Jihoon wonders how long until a new name is tattooed on your wrist. And when he leaves your house that night, he knows. Except that he doesn’t find out the new name on your wrist the way he usually does. You texting him the name, telling him to keep an eye out for it. No, you’re too fast asleep for that. Rather this time, Jihoon finds out the new name manifested on your wrist by the one faintly appearing on his. 

Jihoon’s heart shatters. His world crumples. The sky collapses around him. Jihoon drops to his knees when he recognizes the letters forming on his wrist as the same ones that make your name. 

Jihoon walks home with a new purpose that night. 

///

The fire burns so bright, casting a golden glow on Jihoon’s face. He wonders if he looks the same way he feels. He hopes, feeling each individual crack in his heart, that he doesn’t. He stares madly at the flask in his hand, the same green serum you downed earlier that night, waiting patiently in the palm of his hand. He pops open the cork, and swallows it all in one gulp. 

Fifteen minutes, Jihoon thinks. Fifteen minutes and Jihoon forgets the pain that rots his heart at the sight of your house up in flames. Fifteen minutes and Jihoon forgets the fact that you’re still inside. 

And fifteen minutes later while he is still sitting outside your burning house, Jihoon understands. He understands why you tortured yourself the way you did. Because once his fifteen minutes are up, Jihoon, for the first time in his life, feels-

alive. 

[razieltwelve]

Oops (RWBY AU Snippet)

At long last, the beast was dead. 

After centuries of terrorising the hapless folk of Remnant, the legendary dragon Cinder had finally been slain. Finally, all was right in the world. Bells would be rung throughout the capital, and parades would be thrown for the four brave heroines who had finally defeated the monster.

Or not.

Actually… definitely not.

When Ruby had taken aim with her crossbow and fired into the tiny chink in the great dragon’s armour that her fellow heroines had managed to create, she had assumed her magical crossbow bolt would down the dragon in a single deadly blow.

She’d assumed wrong.

Cinder had indeed dropped out of the sky… and landed right on top of the royal palace of Atlas. The five-hundred-feet-long dragon had then proceeded to thrash, breathe fire, and unleash her magic in a rampage that had lasted for five hours before finally succumbing to her injuries.

The capital had been completely flattened. Really, it had been. The only building still standing was an outhouse on the outskirts of the city, and a stiff breeze promptly knocked that over too. The flattened remains of the city had also been turned into molten glass, which would make cleaning the place up practically impossible.

And it got worse.

Before Ruby’s horrified gaze, the molten glass came to life revealing that Cinder was not actually dead. Instead, the dragon had simply cast her soul into a new body… an undying body made of molten glass that could seemingly regenerate by creating more glass. Oh, and she had control of an entire capital city’s worth of glass, so instead of being five hundred feet long, Cinder was now a cool five miles long.

Five. Freaking. Miles. Of. Angry. Molten. Glass. Dragon.

“You know,” Yang drawled. “I think we were better off before you killed her.”

“Technically,” Blake pointed out. “Ruby didn’t kill her. She just killed her body since Cinder can apparently put her soul into another body with a bit of magic and the right materials.”

“…” Weiss was completely silent. She was still trying to come to terms with the fact that the capital of the kingdom she was going to inherit had been transformed into the molten glass body of what was probably the world’s most invincible dragon.

“Guys!” Ruby wailed. “What do we do? I think we made it worse!” She paused. “Maybe if I shoot her with my crossbow again…”

“No!” Weiss blurted. “She’ll probably get even stronger if you do that!”

“I don’t know,” Ruby said. “I mean… it’s not like this can get any worse, right?”

As Cinder soared majestically over them, they found out that it could, indeed, get so much worse. After all, what could possibly be worse than a five-mile-long fire-breathing dragon? What about a five-mile-long dragon that could turn itself into the world largest, deadliest magnifying glass.

And thus began the adventures of Ruby, Yang, Weiss, and Blake, four heroines who had made a solemn vow to right the wrongs of the past and finally put an end to Cinder.

It only took them ten years, four hundred and thirty-four attempts, and seven giant meteors to finally pull it off. By the end of it, Atlas had been renamed Hole-In-The-Ground, and Weiss was its proud and noble ruler. 

X     X     X

Author’s Notes

Not all heroes wear capes… and not all heroes can actually pull of the hero thing. Oh well. But I really, really need to write a longer snippet with Cinder as a dragon. She would make an excellent dragon I think, I can imagine her fire breath turning people into glass statues, which she can either shatter or bring back to her lair to help decorate the place. 

You can find me on fanfiction.net, AO3, and Amazon. Please check out my newest story on Amazon. It’s called Monster Whisperer. If you enjoy my sense of humour you might also want to check out Attempted Vampirism, or The Unconventional Heroes series.