#miraculous plume

[melbatron5000]

Wild theory, hold on.

(Please do not take any of my theories to Neil himself! Don't do it!)

I've already hypothesized that Crowley and Aziraphale have been working on a plan since Armaggedidn't in season 1. Here's where I go off the rails a little bit. Come along.

Saraqael is part of the plan. She's in on it.

I have only hints and suspicions, not too much for Clues, but hear me out.

In this post, we see a weird movement between buildings behind Shax. Almost like . . . a person in a floating wheelchair coming around the corner? And Crowley is in his spy turtleneck. He's doing something spyish. Meeting an angel he's not supposed to have a connection to, perhaps? About something that maybe interests both of them? Like, not having a second end of the world?

And in this post, we see that Saraqael has opened a spy porthole onto the book shop -- but the picture in the apy porthole is in 2019.

I do not think for a moment that tiny, weenie half-a-miracle-each accidentally blew up into a 25 lazarii miracle. I think someone else at around the same time did a huge miracle, someone powerful, someone who no one is supposed to know about -- or at least, doing something no one is supposed to know about -- and Saraqael hid it the best she could.

Show the arc angels the book shop when Adam reset it. You know, after it burned in 2019. That would be some crazy big miracle energy.

Then go to Earth with the arc angels and nudge Aziraphale into taking responsibility for the miracle. He's good at lying to them, after all, he can come up with something quick. And who is it that says, "Don't tell me you did it?" Why, sarcastic Saraqael. Translation, "tell them you did it, or we're screwed." And Aziraphale jumps right in and says yes, I did that.

Then send someone who won't give back good reports to verify the miracle. Saraqael, why would you send Muriel? Muriel is so sweet and naive, she won't come up with anything she shouldn't.

Then when Crowley is searching around in Heaven, who does he run into but his (doesn't exist) contact? And she tries to give him a reason to recognize her, they worked on the Horsehead nebula together. And he laughs and says, I meet a lot of people. He doesn't need her cover story, he'll just play dumb. She kind of snorts and shakes her head, she tried to give him an out but he took his own way. Headstrong demon.

When the Metatron shows up, who recognizes him? No one but Crowley and Saraqael. Could be because they just watched the trial, could be because they've been actively working together against him for years now. Hard to say. Hard to say. I honestly didn't recognize him in a full human form for a hot minute, it's not like it's impossible to imagine no one would know him. But those two do. Feels important to me.

I don't know if I'm right, but I'm suspicious now. What are they hiding? Who was doing a big miracle that needed covering up? Whatever was the miracle for?

Also, this. More evidence. They are up to something.

#good omens #good omens 2 #crowley #good omens meta #aziraphale #good omens analysis #good omens fan theory #saraqael #25 lazarii miracle #miraculous plume #ineffable mystery #good omens speculation #good omens clues #do not ask neil about this

[fabseg-reader]

Miraculous fanart/sketch: Émilie Agreste/Plume Azur (Peacock Miraculous)

I've made a coloured sketch of Émilie with the Peacock Miraculous. For the concept, I've thought about this design for the Adrien's mother but without the damages on the brooch. I've found the inspiration on Elsa of Arendelle (from the Disney movie Frozen) for the design.

By seeing Émilie when she's transformed, she has Queen vibes.

Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir belongs to Zagtoon.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanart #sketch #fan design #emilie agreste #peacock miraculous #fanon #my art #plume azur

[leftduck9986]

The Missing Bridges of The Song is The Clue

Which song? "You know which one," says Shax. The one, the only, A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square.

Why is this song The Clue? Because of the gaps - that's right, plural - the missing BRIDGES, specifically these two, as performed by Elsie Carlisle:

For clarity, I know that I could be incorrectly labeling the song structure, however this is my understanding, having once-upon-a-time performed a barbershop arrangement of it, back when I had no emotional connection to the song and was just there to hear the chords ring. Of course I'm in love with the song now!

My memory of the sheet music began with an Introduction (not performed here: "When true two lovers meet in Mayfair...") Then all stanzas we are familiar with in the Tori Amos recording are the Verses ending with Refrain/Chorus(song title).

The structure for the Elsie Carlisle recording: 1st Verse | 2nd Verse | 1st Bridge | 3rd Verse | Instrumental Verse | 2nd Bridge | 4th Verse | Coda.

Tori Amos' performance includes an Instrumental break - not an Instrumental Verse, but an Instrumental BRIDGE, in place of the real First Bridge. Singing along recently, I found myself adding it back in and making connections, not to 1941, but to the 25 Lazarii miracle:

1st Bridge:

The moon that lingered over London town

Poor puzzled moon, he wore a frown

The grandfather clock in the east corner of the bookshop, with the moon dial - it appears to be frowning with the wind-up thingamajig, if that's what it is, which is nothing new, but because the moon dial seems to be stuck in the same approximate "third quarter" position, (even in 1941, though that could be a coincidence), together with the glitching behaviour of the clock hands - this clock/these clocks are simply untrustworthy for most of the time, though by the final episode, both have only just normalised/re-aligned before seeming to jump forward together, for perhaps an entirely different reason to what I'm about to put forward.

I thought another possibility for "frowning" would be if the moon phase was either waxing or waning crescent, whichever presents as a frown in the northern hemisphere's London sky.

Does the turnip become a crescent moon in the opening credits title sequence?

However, I want to believe that The Arrival & 25 Lazarii miracle "happened" on Thursday 31st August 2023, - not a crescent moon at all, but a "blue moon" AND Super Full Moon.

How could he know we two were so in love

The whole darned world seemed up-side-down

Notice the moment everything briefly turns/rotates up-side-down in the opening credits title sequence.

∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢

What would happen if the world actually turned up-side-down?

Here's a fun video (https://youtu.be/BLEAjyD5ncU?si=hbHh2O7pGUB8Bsfv) discussing/hypothesising what could happen if the axis remained at its current tilt; if the world was simply flipped up-side-down.

I feel "yeah-nah" about that, especially since the display globe in Heaven appears unchanged as Saraqael locates and zooms in on The Plume Of Miraculous Activity. What seems more likely, (where there could be changes that interfere with gravity and stuff around the world's analogue clocks) is:

What Would Happen if the Magnetic North and South Poles Reversed?

A quick search took me to this website, https://www.livescience.com/18426-earth-magnetic-poles-flip.html An interesting read, but here are several quotes that may be relevant to the GO universe:

"… Earth's magnetic field takes between 1,000 and 10,000 years to reverse, and in the process, it greatly diminishes before it re-aligns. "It's not a sudden flip, but a slow process, during which the field strength becomes weak, very probably the field becomes more complex and might show more than two poles for a while, [see image provided by NASA on website] and then builds up in strength and [aligns] in the opposite direction," … "

"… we cannot see or feel the presence of the geomagnetic field now, we most likely would not notice any significant change from a reversal…"

"… Our technology definitely would be in danger, however. Even now, solar storms can damage satellites, cause power outages and interrupt radio communications… "

"… One additional worry is that a weakening and eventual reversal in the field would disorient all those species that rely on geomagnetism for navigation, including bees, salmon, turtles, whales, bacteria and pigeons. There is no scientific consensus on how those creatures would cope…"

"… The reversal might happen, or it might be aborted - Earth is too complex a system for scientists to know which outcome to expect…"

∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢

Now Furfur says, "Well, well, well! What have we here?"

Maybe some humans, who are like bees, also become disoriented, occasionally appearing to walk back and forth multiple times in the background on Whickber Street.

Maybe poor old Leviathan becomes a little disoriented too. (As well as lonely... go on Crowley, make them a whale friend!)

We've been shown the days following the urgent 25 Lazarii miracle - was there a similar build-up in the days leading up to it? Or with just two poles to reverse it would have all gone unnoticed anyway, unless...

Is Gabriel's presence The Tempest (or the fly with who knows how many things inside), causing a temporary third magnetic pole to form? Could Crowley's lightning bolt have contributed?

∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢

What about how, in the opening credit title sequence, the world turns up-side-down, but one bridge ALSO joins up with another? Consider the lyrics of the

2nd Bridge:

When dawn came steeling up all gold and blue

Note the approaching dawn over Soho in the title sequence, once the world has righted itself (an aborted magnetic pole reversal?). Then how The Bentley drives away, splashing up water (left behind after a disoriented Leviathan is attracted to a third magnetic pole?). Is this why Crowley and Aziraphale are chilling out together on the roof?

To interrupt our rendezvous

I still remember how you smiled and said,

Was that a dream, or was it true?

Likely how Aziraphale "helps" to decrease human suffering of the mind, "best forget all about it" or in season 1, "you will wake, having had a lovely dream about whatever you like best." Was this his final contribution to the 25 Lazarii miracle? A variation could be not to forget, but to remember whatever happened during the 25 Lazarii miracle as a dream - that would be good news for Nina and Maggie, if you believe the image on their vintage playlist is of a scene already filmed.

∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢

In season 2 episode 2, "present day", Aziraphale is deep in thought, perhaps reflecting on the urgent miracle from the night before, as he glances up and out of the bookshops' North-West front window.

Even though the east-corner clock reads thirty-five past ten, three bells sound - is that coming from the west-corner clock? (making it a "striking clock" rather than a "chiming/tubular bells clock"?) These sound exactly like the three bells Anathema acknowledges before telling Adam that she needs to get "back to work."

Aziraphale then returns to his shop-front desk to resume reading from an open pile of 3-4 books nestled into each others' spines. I wonder if they are books on science, on geomagnetism.

Please remember, DO NOT ASK OR TAG NEIL GAIMAN ON FAN THEORY.

#The Missing Bridges of The Song is The Clue #Good Omens 2 #Good Omens 2 Theory #Good Omens 2 Opening Title Sequence #A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square #Elsie Carlisle #geomagnetism in the Good Omens universe #a temporary 3rd magnetic pole? #If you haven"t yet studied a close up image of what Saraqael sees surrounding The Plume of Miraculous Activity do it NOW

[star-the-gremlin]

Hey

Hey you

yeah you!

Remember this drawing?

Yeah that one

remember her?

yeah her

you remember? good.

Forget her!

Erase her from your memory!

Eviscerate her!

This is the new her!

Remember her

cherish her

#aurore beauréal #mireille caquet #aurore x mireille #miraculous au #miraculous ladybug #fuck global warming au #yup #this is an au now #their names are Polaris Plume and Yuki-Actanis btw

[disorganizedkitten]

Rena

Miraculous Ladybug | 2018 | 797 | Ao3 

When Alya's sisters get Akumatized, she wants to help but doesn't have much power to. Until a feather lands in her phone.

“Alya Césaire, I am Plume Reign. Your heroes can’t fight on their own. Let me give physical form to your will to help, and they may still win this fight.”

“Really? How? Are you like a reverse Hawkmoth? Are you going to be helping Coléoptère Rose and Chat Noir from now on? How did you get your Miraculous?”

“Alya we don’t have time for this! Yes or no?”

“How do you know my name?”

“Mental links do that sort of thing,” Plume answered resignedly. “Are you on board or-”

“Yes!” Alya yelled. “But can I get an interview later?”

 Plume shook her head from her hiding place. “I’ll maintain the link whist we fight, and I’ll answer as many questions as I can, but I don’t think I’ll be able to provide an interview anytime soon.”

“Aww.” Plume could feel Alya’s disappointment, but that was quickly overtaken by wonder when her fox spirit formed.

“Whoah.”

When the fox formed, Alya really only had one thought in her head. Rena.

“Lead her to the others. She will help you,” Plume informed her through the mental link.

Alya nodded. “Rena! Come on! We have an Akuma to catch!” The giant fox tilted it’s head at her, then knelt.

“Uh, Plume?”

“She wants you to ride her. You’ll travel much faster that way.”

“Alright!” Alya touched Rena’s nose, finding it surprisingly solid. She walked over to Rena’s side and pulled herself up. She got a solid hold on Rena’s neck, and patted it. It seriously even felt like fur. “Ready Rena?”

Rena took off.

���THIS IS AMAZING!!!” Alya screamed as they raced across Paris. Riding Rena was like riding a rollercoaster on steroids. Rena ran faster than anything Alya had ever ridden before, and she kept stopping to bite off the hats of any Sapotis that came within her radius.

“What is that?” Coléoptère Rose asked, staring at the giant orange, black, and white fox that had just skidded to a stop in front of her and bitten off the hats of ten Sapotis at once.

“Another Akuma?” Chat Noir offered.

“But it’s fighting the Akuma….”

“Guys! Guys! Look what Plume Reign got me!” Alya called, leaning over the fox’s neck. “Look at this beauty! She’s amazing!”

“Plume Reign?” Coléoptère asked. “Who’s that?”

Alya paused. “What do you mean? Don’t you- Oh.” She quieted for a bit, and then nodded. “I can pass it on!” Alya slid down the fox’s side. “Thanks Rena.

“Guys, this is Rena, my will manifested physically. It’s a little weird, but we’re fighting negative emotions turned monsters so-” Alya shrugged. “Plume Reign says she has the Peacock Miraculous. It’s similar to the Butterfly Miraculous, but she swears she won’t abuse it. She’s been watching from the shadows for a few days, and says she only comes in when absolutely necessary due to how draining using her powers is.”

“Plume Reign… Are you who helped me during Puppeteer?” Coléoptère asked.

Alya paused for a moment, and her eyes flashed blue. She seemed to be listening, and then she nodded her head. “Yep!”

Coléoptère nodded. “Alright. Thanks for the help, Plume. You too Alya.”

“No problem! Let’s de-akumatize my sisters!!”

**

“Miraculous Cure!!!”

“Alya!” Ella and Etta shrieked, tackling their sister in a hug.

“There you two troublemakers are! I was worried I had lost you to a swarm of real Sapotis!” Alya hugged them back. She had been a lot more worried than that until Plume showed up, but the twins didn't need to know that.

“Alya, I’m going to pull the connection now. Thank you for helping,” Plume’s voice said inside her head.

“Okay. Thank you for letting me help! It was awesome talking to you, and it was even better to have Rena.” Alya paused. “Rena’s going to disappear, isn’t she?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Okay. Can I show my sisters and say goodbye first?”

Plume was silent for a moment, but then, “Go ahead.”

Alya thanked her mentally a few times as she moved. “Etta, Ella, come meet my friend Rena!”

“Ooh! Rena! Rena!”

**

Plume Reign sighed, exhaustion had settled into her bones, and she knew the sickness part was just waiting until she detransformed. But she couldn’t not let Alya say goodbye!

She would be fine to deal with it. She would have to feed Duusuu a lot, but she had brought snacks in her bag anyway.

She watched Alya pull the twins away from Rena, telling them to tell the fox goodbye. “Alright Plume Reign. Go ahead.”

“Goodbye.” Plume nodded, and motioned for her feather to drop it’s hold. The connection severed.

“Feathers down,” Plume called. Her transformation dropped, and Marinette collasped against the chimney.

“Marinette,” Duusuu started.

“I know, you need to recharge. Let’s see if we can get back to Alya’s.”

#Miraculous swap #oneshot #old fic #peacock Marinette #Plume Reign au #will I ever write the rest of this? who knows #duusu #marinette dupain cheng #alya cesaire #rose lavillant #adrien agreste #Crossposting spam

[arjengelly]

Now that I know Felix can sing… I’m going to say he and Lila are going to be like Stolas & Stella🤣

But Margo isn’t going to be a moody teen. She just wants a normal life, especially after finding out her mother is a super villain and her father was an anti hero.

#miraculous ladybug #tales of miraculous ladybug and chat noir #miraculous au #Margo Rossi #lila rossi #felix fathom #argos #chrysalis #le plume #helluva boss #vivziepop #stolas #stella goetia

[princedrewwrites]

it’s so funny to me. every fan redesign i’ve seen of marinette’s costume from miraculous is 100 times better than the show itself. 

#to be clear i don't watch miraculous aside from as a distant plume of smoke #i know there's trouble. #but god. i am not going over there

[noneorother]

The puns are never ending : Aziraphale's miraculous "visable" bullet.

Aside from this closeup diagram of how to perform the bullet catch being objectively hilarious, it's also got a pretty fascinating *spelling mistake*.

If you look closely at the part of the pamphlet in red, you'll see that the bullet should be hidden in the mouth where it won't be visable. Not "not visible". Not visable. Seems innocuous enough right? But of course, the layers are never ending.

"Visable" is actually a Middle English word, *not* a modern English one. The last time it was used was before the printing press was invented, so pretty old. Here's a little background :

What's really fascinating though, is that just like the expression "dark horse", the word has two meanings : one is "Capable of good judgement, prudent" the other is "Tractable and docile".

There are also only two examples of the word in context that I can find, and they really should be sending you into orbit :

The first one is actually from Henry Lovelich's translation of the French epic poem "The Romance of Merlin" also known as the first English treatment of the Arthurian legends. It's modernized as "He was a worthy knight, valiant and visable in every fight." Which uses the "good judgment" meaning and sounds... a lot like Aziraphale in his role of guardian and protector.

Why do we care? They are standing literally in front of Excalibur, Arthur's sword.

The other one is from "Ipomadon", another middle English epic poem about a hidden identity romance between a beautiful but proud heiress, and her dark knight in disguise. "She was... visable and virtuous, meak and mild, and marvellous." Which clearly uses the "tractable and docile" meaning, but also... kinda sounds like Aziraphale in his damsel in his distress mode, which:

Ahahahah fuck off. But wait, there's more!

I originally twigged to this error because if you, like me, also happen to speak the language of la plume de ma tante, you know there's a reason why the uses happen in epic poems that originated in France: it's a loan word from old French, and still exists today in modern French, but it doesn't mean tractable and docile...

For the non-french speaking among you, it's a derivation of the verb "viser" :

Verb 1 To aim 1.To aim, to carefully direct one's gaze or a weapon towards a goal to throw something at it.

And so, if you happen to be, oh I don't know, a demon and have been alive for thousands of years and can definitely speak all the languages on earth and happen to have participated in the Arthurian age in England, when you read that pamphlet really carefully because someone is making you do a crazy stunt and there's a miracle blocker on, you could *conceivably* have read the instructions as:

"IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT YOU LOVE, DO NOT SHOOT AZIRAPHALE IN THE FACE." ________________________________________________________ Thanks to @thebluestgreen and @embracing-the-ineffable as always.

#good omens meta #good omens 2 #art director talks good omens #go season 2 #go meta #good omens season two #wordplay #crowley x aziraphale #good omens 1941 #good omens season 2 #good omens #good omens analysis

[sillygoofylittleartist]

Mayura redesign. There were a lot of things I liked about her original design but the main thing I wanted was to amp up the peacock aspects since they have so much drama and vibrancy to their looks. I also wanted her color palette to have more peacock colors so I added a lot more green and toned down some of the pink.

I changed the pattern to be more like the actual feathers of a peacock. I lengthened the skirt and removed the feather/fur cuffs on her sleeves and neck. Peacocks have a lot of different types of feathers but none of them are super floofy as they’re generally pretty sleek so I wanted to reflect that in the design.

I also added a caplet and a top layer to her skirt both with the feather patterns. I also gave her gloves with claws like peacock nails, partly because I love chat noirs claws and I want them to be incorporated into more characters, especially since so many of the animals have claws or talons.

Finally I gave her a mask with markings like on the face of peacock and instead of the little hat piece thing I gave her a little accessory kind of like the ones from the flapper headbands. I thought her hair and stuff reminded me of a sleek 1920s look so I figured that would work.

To the little accessory I added plumes like the ones on the top of a peacocks head. They’re so specific i don’t know how any peacock based design could leave them out.

This redesign is kind of busy but I hope it’s not too overwhelming. The color palette gave me a hard time but I think I made it work. I want to see a non villain design of the peacock miraculous with a brighter color palette.

🦚

#miraculous redesign #miraculous ladybug #mlb fanart #miraculous ladybug redesign #ladybug and chat noir #ladybug redesign #peacock miraculous #dusuu #nathalie sancoeur #mayura #mayura redesign #mayura fan art

[ddagent]

The huge plume of miraculous activity. Last night. From this shop. Nearly 25 Lazarii. Don't tell me you did it.

#ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #aziracrow #goodomensgifs #goodomensedit #good omens #dd: gifs #tv: good omens

[skirter01]

Top Gun: Fenton - Chpt 1 (Teaser)

Bout time I put this one out here. Will be up on Ao3 in the next 2 weeks!

The thing about plummeting 20,000ft through the air in the middle of the night – if you realise it's a bad idea halfway down, it's already too late. 

“Holy sh*t!” 

Admittedly, not one of Danny’s favourite ways to wake up. 

He could barely right himself as he plummeted through the dark sky in a mess of flailing limbs and flapping NASA pyjama pants. Obviously not his best look, but it wasn’t like he was prepared to wake up falling out of the sky. In fact, it wasn’t something he’d ever had to actually deal with considering he tended to defy gravity majority of the time anyway. 

Convenient, when it works, he thought saltily, still trying and failing to trigger any reciprocation from his core. Since when was he having power malfunctions? It was like he was fourteen all over again, turning his pants intangible in the school hallway. Puberty, ew. 

Danny’s lanky body flipped and folded uncontrollably like a sheet in the wind, while compressed air screamed past his ears and pulled at the skin of his face, drying out his mouth and grabbing at his eyelids painfully. How could anyone do this for fun, ever? 

Honestly, he’d pretty much accepted at this point that whatever was going on, this wasn't his fault. The last thing he remembered was falling into bed next to Sam post online doom sesh with Tucker and completely checking out of the world of consciousness – because yes he could do that now, three cheers for retirement! So, unless he could somehow teleport in his sleep, this was completely out of his control. Which was unsettling, but at least it was some comfort that he could blame someone else for once.  

A chill nipped at his arms as he plunged through more cloud cover, only this time, instead of more dark and gloom, he broke through to come face to face with perhaps the most menacing skyline he’d ever seen. 

Brutal skyscrapers stood like gods, towering over a city swathed in smog and pollution. Plumes of smoke drifted skywards, drifting past keeling cranes and breathing onto low flying aircraft weaving dangerously between high rises. 

Oh he was so not in Washington anymore. 

His eyes followed smatterings of dim light that illuminated bustling roads and jagged bridges, stooping down into a shadowy harbour, dotted with resting ships bobbing in dark water. The very same water which loomed ominously below him. Danny’s eyes widened as the still, murky harbour water rushed at him, and he tried uselessly to grasp any part of his half dead self. Head-on collision in ten, nine, eight….

He managed to swivel feet first, throwing his legs out like a spring to displace the water. Not that it helped. It was like hitting fucking concrete. His legs cracked sickeningly on impact and the icy harbour water engulfed him. 

As he sunk down, a horrible scenario flashed through his mind; his body filled with water, sinking to the bottom of this strange harbour in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere, never to be found again. His only memory; a segment on buzzfeed unsolved. 

Naturally, Danny panicked. He floundered on the surface, splashing around with only arms to keep him afloat and the dreaded possibility that he’d just broken both legs. He sucked in salty water through his nose, and choked it down his throat as the dead-weight of his legs dragged him under. 

Sam, the house and the $20 in my wallet are yours. The console goes to Tucker – but I’ll never forgive you if you don’t put him through the blazing trials of hell to earn it. 

Miraculously, it was then that he felt that familiar weightlessness settle over him, and without a second thought, he launched himself skyward blindly – just far enough to miss the rest of the harbour and crash ragdoll style onto the wooden jetty. 

Rolling to a stop on his back, Danny groaned, chest heaving for oxygen he didn't need. His legs were on fire, but at least that was better than numb – c’mon freaky ghost powers do your thing already. All he wanted was to lie there and pass out. But that would just be too convenient. 

The red and blue lights of justice flashed against the white undersides of the expensive moored boats lining the jetting, and the squeal of rubber tires on tarmac had Danny cursing under his breath. Too fucking perfect. 

Car doors slammed, two of them, and the hurried thumping of boots on the flimsy wooden jetty vibrated against his back. Closest he’d get to a massage probably. 

“Hey!” 

Danny sighed and closed his eyes, so it begins.

The first cop was by his side in seconds, sliding to his knees at Danny’s shoulder. “Please, please don't be dead,” The guy mumbled to himself, clearly young by the tone, fiddling with his utility belt for what Danny could only guess was a pair of gloves. “Not another one. Not more paperwork.”

“Your lucky day” Danny wheezed out a laugh, forcing his eyes back open enough to give the poor traumatised dude some clarity. “Still kicking.” 

“Crap!” The cop startled, falling back on his heels, probably having already convinced himself that Danny was dead. He couldn't blame the guy, good intuition. “You scared the socks off me dude!” He put a hand to his chest, “But thank god for that.” 

“Ha.” Danny exhaled exhaustedly. The Officers silver name badge read ‘Det. Grayson’, but his face was young, a year or two older than Danny, he guessed, somewhere around twenty three or four – definitely too young to be a detective. Black hair peaked out from underneath Detective Graysons cap, hanging above blue eyes eerily similar to his own. They roved over Danny’s beaten face and body with the same critical gaze Jazz had been giving him for years. Oh yeah, oldest sibling for sure – out in the wild. 

The assessment halted at his legs, “God, your…” 

The second cop, Graysons partner, sidled up then, measly first aid kit in one hand and a flashlight in the other. He was an older man, stubby, with a crooked moustache, wide face and a badge that read ‘Const. Marshall’. “What’ve we got Grayson? Another body – holy christ!” 

Constable Marshall staggered a few steps, when his flashlight illuminated Danny’s tattered legs. “Oh hell no. That’s bone! I see bone!” 

“Marshall!” Grayson scolded in a harsh whisper, ripping away the first aid kit.

Danny cringed. So much for being calm in front of a patient. His legs must be pretty gruesome then. It wasn’t worrying, not when he could already feel the burning sensation of his ectoplasm trying to cinch them back together. Except, that was just the problem. 

He gritted his teeth. Please stop healing. 

“Sorry about him,” Grayson mumbled, calmly reaching into the first aid kit for some intense looking bandages, “I’m Detective Grayson, and that’s Constable Marshall. We’re with Bluhaven PD, but we’re working with Gotham City at the moment. What’s your name?” 

Danny’s stomach dropped. “We’re in Gotham?” 

“Gotham harbour specifically.” Detective Graysons brow furrowed. “Did you hit your head at all?” 

“No–I, um…” What in the hell was going on? “– sorry, I’m Danny.”

The Detective's eyes were wary, but he hid it well with an awkward smile. “Well it’s nice to meet you Danny. Although, not the best circumstances, I’m sure.” 

Danny chuckled breathily, mind spinning. “Tell me about it.” 

“What in the hell happened?” Constable Marshall asked, white as a sheet and looking all the more like he was about to regurgitate his dinner into the harbour. “I’m calling an ambulance.” 

Danny’s heart jumped to his throat. “Oh no really – you don't have to, I’m fine, I’ll just–”

“No time. We’ll take him with us” Grayson interrupted, tying off bandages around Danny’s legs to stem the bleeding. “Marshall, help me get him up” 

Danny let out a very manly whine as both men gripped him under the arms and carefully lifted his battered body to a standing position. His vision spun, and he wobbled dangerously, because obviously standing on two broken legs wasn’t going to provide much stability. The younger of the two cops was quick to duck under his shoulders and lift the weight off, whilst the Constable on the other side took a second longer to follow his example. So much for seniority. 

“Danny, how are you going buddy? You with us?” Grayson asked, the epitome of calm, but Danny really couldn't give him an answer right now. He continued, “We’re going to get you over to the car okay? And then we’ll go straight to the hospital.”

“No hospitals.” Danny moaned amidst spinning vision and pounding head. 

“Yeah, I’m afraid you don’t really have a choice my dude, sorry.” Grayson smirked. “Nice pants by the way. NASA, very spacey"

Danny died a little more.

---

Whoop! Bit vague, but all the more fun to come!

#dp x dc #danny phantom #danny fenton #dp #dick grayson #nightwing #batfam #batfamily #dc robin

[indigovigilance]

Miraculous Energy

Guys, I think I found a hole in the plot. We should probably walk through it together and see what we find.

inspo citation by @ritz-writes

Originally this post had to do with holding hands.

The 25 Lazari Plume

In S2E1 they hold hand through the conduit of Gabriel and perform "the tiniest, most insubstantial, fractional half a miracle we have ever performed. No traces of anything miraculous left behind. No- no- no alarm bells ringing in Heaven" miracle.

Even though they were trying to be surreptitious, they failed drastically. Common fanon is that their combined angelic and demonic energy, or the power of love, creates a holistic power greater than the sum of its parts. The result:

A miracle of more energy than anyone knows what do with: per Shax, "a miracle of enormous power... the kind of miracle only the mightiest of Archangels could've performed."

But.

This isn't the first time they've combined their powers to perform a miracle.

Two quotes from Gail Neiman:

The instance in question:

Theory:

There are at first glance two solutions to this paradox. Either

a) They did create a burst of energy but everyone above and below Earth was so freaked out by them having just survived hellfire and holy water (respectively) that they were like "yeah that tracks and we're not touching it with a 10 foot pole," or

b) They did not create a burst of energy in the body swap, and therefore the plume of power didn't have to do with the boys combining powers but instead has something to do with either (b1) Gabriel or (b2) the nature of the miracle being performed.

I don't like (a) because Saraqael is so dismissive of the idea that Aziraphale could have performed such a miracle. It creates a narrative inconsistency.

We are left with (b), and since purple is the color of Gabriel's divinity this would be narratively consistent. (b2) doesn't track because the nature of the miracle being performed is fundamentally the same: in S1E6 they were (what in other fantasy fiction is frequently called) glamouring to hide their identities, and they did the exact same thing to Gabriel in S2E1, obfuscating his angel identity with a made-up human one.

So, yeah. It perhaps doesn't lean into our preferred conceptualization of the super-powerful duo, but it does fit the evidence.

~~~

It looks like @ineffable-suffering already put forth this theory, I just missed it. You can read it here: What if it wasn't Aziraphale and Crowley who performed the 25 Lazarii miracle?

~~~

special shout-out to @flameraven for the scripts, you make my life much easier now that I can copy-paste quotes instead of transcribing.

If you liked this, you can find my meta index here.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #ineffable husbands #25 lazari #they like holding hands #crowley #aziraphale

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24HighSchoolStudents #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental education #environmental justice #environmental protection #environmental health #high school students #high school #youth #youth of america #school

[fabseg-reader]

Some Eminath sketches.

In an Alternate Universe where Gabriel is dead instead of Émilie, Ladybug and Cat Noir don't confront Hawk Moth but a Peacock "supervillainess": She is called Plume Azur.

First sketch: Émilie/Plume Azur (holding the fan on her hand) flirts to Nathalie (who blushes). Unknownly to the two women, Adrien sees the scene and he is troubled to see his archenemy going to seduce his tutor woman/godmother.

Fact: Adrien doesn't know Emilie and Plume Azur are the same person.

Second sketch (suggestive): In the past, a tied-up Nathalie and Émilie kiss together.

Third and Fourth sketches: Émilie Graham de Vanily a.k.a. Plume Azur sketches from Peacock Émilie fanart

Bonus: Mayura and Émilie

The image is mature (so NSFW).

A naked Émilie is really happy to spend time with a shy Nathalie (transformed into Mayura).

Émilie: Do you want to know why I am on good mood, Nathalie ? 😊

Nathalie/Mayura: Huh... ?! Sure, Mist... Émilie. 😳

Émilie: -giggles- ❤

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous au #emilie agreste #nathalie sancoeur #mayura #kwami swap #adrien agreste #plume azur #peacock emilie #eminath #wlw #my art #sketch #tw: nudity #suggestive #femslash #no kids allowed #homoerotism

[leftduck9986]

Picture This (What's in the Cardboard Box? A Meta/Theory/Watsit Featuring Mary Poppins)

Happy New Year!

A fun theory for you, told with accompanying picture collages from the Good Omens series, spoilers for Disney's Mary Poppins and occasional quotes transcribed from the Good Omens audio book.

As unbelievably silly this theory is, please remember, DO NOT ASK OR TAG NEIL GAIMAN ON FAN THEORY, thank you kindly.

After Armageddon is averted at the airbase, Aziraphale and Crowley are worried about what will happen to them:

"Is is over do you think?" Crowley shrugged. "Not for us, I'm afraid."

"I don't think you need to go worrying. I know all about you two. Don't you worry."

Adam knows all about Aziraphale and Crowley, ooOOOOooo!

He ALSO knows:

that Crowley had seen Mary Poppins on television one Christmas (...) and while he toyed with the idea of a hurricane as an effective and incredibly stylish way of disposing of the queue of nannies (...) outside the Cultural Attaché's Regents Park residence, he opted for a tube strike instead. And when the day came, only one nanny turned up;

that Aziraphale is extremely intelligent - And it was an angelic intelligence, which, while not being particularly higher than human intelligence, is much broader and has the advantage of having thousands of years of practice. - and what took Agnes Nutter's descendants centuries to decipher, he did in next-to-no-time, and;

that Anathema Device received Agnes Nutter's Further Nice and Accurate Prophecies and chose not to continue her life as a descendant.

He stopped halfway across the field. Someone was burning something. He looked at the plume of white smoke above the chimney of Jasmine Cottage and he paused. And he listened. He could hear laughter. It wasn't a witch's cackle - it was the low and earthy guffaw of someone who knew a great deal more than could possibly be good for them.

The white smoke writhed and curled above the cottage chimney. For a fraction of an instant, Adam saw outlined in the smoke a handsome female face. A face that hadn't been seen on Earth for over three hundred years. Agnes Nutter winked at him.

And if Adam knows what Agnes knows, there's no need to go messing anybody about. No need to worry ...

In the 1964 Disney film, Mary Poppins, Jane and Michael's letter advertising for a new nanny is torn up by their father Mr Banks and thrown into the fireplace. The shredded pieces of paper fly up and out of the chimney.

After a sudden and rather focused hurricane blows the queue of other nannies away, in blows the Practically-Perfect-in-Every-Way Mary Poppins. During her "interview" she reads from Jane and Michael's advertisement, MIRACULOUSLY intact.

∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢

Musical interlude: when Aziraphale arrives in Edinburgh, the show music makes me want to sing "Chim Chim Cher-ee" (hmm, same style and minor in tonality, with the visual of all those chimney rooftops in-scene - that's gotta be on purpose, no?)

∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢

The heavenly miracle sound - there are 2 parts to it. First, a descending bass, Vvvvvvmmm, second, a choral "ah" layered with shimmering. So, if attempting to sing it A Cappella: "Vvvvvvmmm-AH-shh"

At the end of Gabriel's trial: "I'll just need a-" He hears (edit, Sunday 7th Jan 2024: initiates the miracle with his eyes and we hear) the bass drop, Vvvvvvmmm, looks up in time to catch the cardboard box on the latter miracle sound, AH-shh, then looks inside the box and smiles in recognition. He now has a mission, and whomever has just sent him the box - and what's inside it (edit, Sunday 7th Jan 2024: the cardboard box) - is going to help.

At the very beginning of Heaven's overhead CCTV footage, the cardboard box can be seen with a very dark something inside (zooming in is required at this stage as the image begins small). Being able to see clearly to the bottom of the box's interior, in relatively natural light at the bookshop, one would think the intensely bright light in Heaven would also allow for a clear view, especially from above ...

While the Further Prophecies were only loose pages - Agnes would have known that they were going to be burnt anyway, so why go to the trouble of having them published and bound? - they could have been miracle-d into something modern and fancy, perhaps in the style of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy?

Gabriel places the matchbox in with it (I know I'd be worried about the fly escaping, as well as it being jostled about with the matchbox once Gabriel turns the cardboard box up-side-down, but after seeing the fly crawl back into the cardboard box just before Aziraphale brings it inside the bookshop, I'm trusting in the fly's ability to be controlled by will of thought and that the fly knows to stay close to its master). He closes just 2 flaps of the box and then a bass whoosh sounds in the right speaker (not part of the soundtrack). The "book" has entered the fly! Has it stayed in the fly?

Then, on Earth, Gabriel approaches the bookshop. The only Whickber Street person seen to be using their phone AS A PHONE and not a camera, [placeholder name "Mary"] is listening intently. Perhaps the voice on the other end of the call says something like, "how goes operation Escort the Queen to the Hive?" and perhaps she answers, "we have the package safely surrounded, it has almost arrived, standby ..."

Then, she and hand-on-face-guy have front row 'seats' (standing room only) to the show, behind Gabriel; beginning to lift her phone when it looks like Gabriel has been rejected entry, before Aziraphale finally agrees to let him in. She is the very first to leave the scene when the mission is complete, signalling for everyone to resume their usual buzzing about, as if to say, "He's in. Aaaaaand we out!"

(These last two paragraphs were a summary of my first Tumblr post, The Whickber Street Bees and Their Queen.)

∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢

When Jim explains that he feels like an empty house, he justifies remembering "how it all began" by looking where the furniture isn't (the gaps!) and it seems that every other instance - lavender eyes activated or not - is covered here with this statement, what with recalling more about where his memory is, as well as Metatron's "institutional problem" line from the trial. The only instance unaccounted for with his explanation, especially because of the trance-like state of delivery followed with Jim in distress (not quite the same as his first memory in episode 2) - the tempest prophecy from episode 3.

Perhaps Gabriel was in part control about what thoughts needed to remain in his head, or it's simply because they were the last ones in use, kept at the forefront by will and repetition, in order to get himself to the bookshop. Though, he was given an ineffable assist, which perhaps included re-configuring the 4 box flaps to collapse, interlocking pin-wheel style?

So, the Whickber Street "bees" have provided an escort for getting the Queen to the hive or if you prefer, the book delivered to the librarian/historian. However, if the book was the first thing to enter the fly and then say, was accidentally swapped into Gabriel for his memories, the Tempest prophecy came forth when Crowley accessed it, by means of a keyword. An INDEX!!!

Agnes has heard you Crowley, and Agnes says, "N-gotchya."

∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢

According to a previous meta/theory, the event this prophecy is referring to has already happened, so it would make sense that, as Anathema's mother says in S1E2, "The answers are always in the book, it's just sometimes you don't see them 'til afterwards."

Or rather, as Anathema says to Newt in the book: "[Agnes] managed to come up with the kind of prediction that you can only understand after the thing has happened ... she just picked up one little fragment of information ... most of the time she comes up with such an oblique reference that you can't work it out until it's gone past and then it all slots into place."

It would have been only too obvious to hear Jim speak this prophecy in the English style of the 1600s! But if the echoed voice we're hearing is Anathema's - did she ever pronounce the extra "e"s and "a"s at the ends of words, in the show?

∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢ ∢

When Gabriel has his memories returned to him, has the book re-entered the fly?

When he and Beelzebub are reprising Everyday, is Gabriel, with his left finger, releasing the fly into the room, for Crowley to capture shortly afterward once 'alone' (the chair facing the staircase)?

WITH. HIS. TONGUE???

Just after Aziraphale touches his fingers to his lips, is he repositioning the fly for safe-keeping, as with The Bullet Catch?

Finally, in the lift during the closing credits, Aziraphale is trying so hard NOT to smile before giving in. It's as if ...

As If ...

AS IF HE IS READING THE BOOK!!! Discovering and reading the book, turning the pages with his eyes right before the big smile!

AAAAAAAHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And now Aziraphale knows what Agnes knows.

From experience, he can trust that any prediction made by Agnes Nutter will always be "on the money."

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #good omens theory #still haven't grasped the difference between meta and theory #really NOT liking how the Metatron's use of the phrase “Spit-spot” hit me just now with a pang

[kittenofdoomage]

A Bargain Struck

Summary: Inspired by this post on Tumblr and the lovely @angryschnauzer. You’ve struck a bargain with something unholy, and now he wants his due.

Pairing: demonic!Geralt x female!reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: angst, demonic rituals, selling souls, everyone’s over the age of 18, this is a sort of medieval AU, use of horns for leverage during sex, transformations during sex, probably a lot of blasphemy?, it’s filth yet fluffy? Soft!Geralt is definitely a thing here. Let’s get weird. Uh, size kink, wing kink, demonic tongue fucking, definitely monsterfucking.

Ao3 Link

A/N: I was too excited to share this one with everyone. I know @deandoesthingstome wanted a tag (I think anyway, I didn't hallucinate that, right?) but haven't tagged anyone else to read. Let me know what you think, in gif form or otherwise!

She can’t help but feel joy when her sister, younger than her by only a few years, bursts through the door of their cottage, laughing as Dotty nips at the hem of her dress. It is a relatively new sight to behold, to see Emily filled with such life, when only weeks before she had been expected to die. “The moon, Y/N, did you see it?” she gasps, coming to a stop at the table, leaning on it with her hands to stare out of the window. “It’s so pretty!”

“I’ve seen,” Y/N replies, turning away from her sibling so she doesn’t see the worry in her eyes. It’s a blood moon, huge and pinkish red, filling the horizon in a stunningly clear sky. You have until midnight at the blood moon, he had said, the formless voice in the darkness that had granted her wish for her sister to live. She knew the price when she sought him out; it was clear in the ritual. Her sister’s life for her soul, bound to him for eternity.

A price she would gladly pay again.

“You’re quiet,” Emily murmurs, pulling out a chair as Dotty jumps around her. “What are you making?”

“Venison pie for supper. And I’m just concentrating.” The pastry around the edges of her creation are not playing ball, and they need to be perfect. This is her last meal with her family, and she intends to savor every moment of it. “Would you mind setting the table?”

She’s spent the last three weeks worrying if they will cope without her. He had given her assurances of a long happy life, but the what ifs and maybes still linger, nibbling at her thoughts until she was consumed with anxiety over it.

Emily hums as she gathers the dishes and cutlery for dinner, making Y/N smile as she finally gets the pastry to behave. The oven billows out a plume of hot air when she tugs the door open, and she shoves the pie in. “There we go,” she mutters, wiping the grease off of her hands onto her apron. “It should be ready when Mother gets home.”

“She’s still at the church?” her sister asks.

Chuckling, Y/N locates her cup of tea, happy to find it still warm enough to drink. “Well, your recovery was nothing short of miraculous,” she sighs. “Mother just thinks she needs to pay Him back.” She could have told her, of course, but their mother had always fallen on the more devout side of religious, and she didn’t think any good could come of confessing her deal with the devil, or something like him at the very least. The last thing she needed is to be locked up for being a witch - if she wasn’t there to pay the price, he could take back what he’d given, and she would not let that happen.

The cottage fills with the scent of the pie as it cooks. Y/N prepares the vegetables, listening to Emily chat about her day, wiping away an errant tear as she soaks in her sister’s excitement and zest for life. She wishes dearly that she could be there to see her grow and learn, maybe get married and have children, and hates even more that she won’t be. As the time to say goodbye creeps closer, she feels her nerves churning into an uncomfortable ball that sits in her belly, filling her with dread.

Their mother comes home just as they are plating up the meal, and the conversation revolves around her day at the church. She makes them say a prayer before supper, though Y/N keeps one eye open because she’s certain no prayer or God can save her from what she’s giving herself to. 

As her family continues to chatter obliviously, she tries to keep her focus on them, to enjoy the moments she has left with them. Emily is talking about a local boy she has a crush on, and Y/N feels her heart in her throat when her mother asks if she will be going to the market in the morning.

“I hadn’t given it much thought,” she mumbles, cheeks rapidly warming. “How’s the pie?”

“Wonderful as always,” her mother replies. “I don’t know where you get your cooking skills from, certainly not me.” The joke is supposed to make her smile but Y/N only feels regret that she’s leaving them.

“You’re a good cook too,” Emily insists, grinning at her sister who manages a weak curve of her lips.

She’s trying so hard not to show her grief. She should be happy. Her sister will live a full and happy life. Y/N couldn’t think of anything she wanted more.

Dinner is over quickly, and once everything is cleared away, Y/N looks out of the window. The moon is a deeper shade of red now, hanging ominously over the trees in the distance. It’s bright enough that the whole valley is bathed in an eerie crimson, and she shudders as she looks towards the forest and the darkness waiting to greet her.

She still has time. Her sister is already in front of the fire, needlework in hand, humming again like she is prone to do since her recovery. Their mother reads, glasses perched on the end of her nose to make her look far older than she is, and Y/N smiles as she sits between them, letting the warmth of the firelight wash over her.

“You should take the rest of those apples to the market tomorrow,” Mother says quietly, and she nods, even though she knows she’ll never go to market again. The apples will probably rot in the basket. 

The night draws on. Mother retires first, kissing her firstborn on the top of the head as she passes, before taking Emily’s hand and looking at her fondly. Y/N watches her go with a heavy ache in her heart, wishing she could say goodbye, and not just leave them without resolution.

“You’re still being quiet,” Emily observes, putting her needlework away. “What’s wrong?”

There’s a second where she’s not sure what to say. She can see herself spilling the truth, dragging a promise from her little sister that she would live her life, fall in love, do all the things Y/N would never get to do. But she can’t say it because then Emily would know, and she couldn’t bear the thought of her sister carrying the weight of that guilt forever.

Sitting up, she smiles, shaking her head. “I’m just tired,” she says, getting up to take over the seat their mother had vacated.

Emily watches her for a moment longer, obviously deciding whether to prod at the subject. When she makes her choice, she sighs, rising from the chair. “Well, I’m tired too, so I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Y/N.” She turns, then pauses before crossing the room to lean down and press a kiss to her sister’s temple. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Y/N whispers, tears in her eyes. If the younger woman notices, she doesn’t say anything, quickly retreating and leaving her sibling alone. 

She waits a while, watching the fire die out until there are only a few embers remaining. Once the red glow fades, she gets to her feet, making her way to her mother’s room first, and she finds her in a deep slumber, one arm slung over the edge of her bed. With a smile, Y/N pulls the door shut, moving to the next, and Emily is asleep too. She lingers for a second, wishing once more that she could say goodbye, but time is running thin, so she closes the door and moves on.

It didn’t seem worth the effort to take anything with her, and it’s easier to move silently with just her cloak. She fastens it at her throat and makes her way out of the cottage, careful to lock the door behind her, slipping the key into her pocket through habit - it’s unlikely she’ll need it again. Pulling her hood up, she walks away from the village and towards the forest, keeping her footsteps light and quick. Her cloak catches on the undergrowth as it gets thicker, and soon she’s picking her way along the narrow path between the trees, feeling more anxious as the darkness crowds her. Further along, the trees are so dense that the moonlight cannot penetrate their leaves and she has to slow to avoid tripping on unseen hazards.

Her destination isn’t all that far. The ground grows steeper, and she has to be more careful as she searches for the ruins in the dark. It helps that she has walked this path before, when she made her bargain, and she knows she’s there when she finds the first stone, stuck upright in the ground with strange symbols she traces with her fingers.

The ruins are empty and dark. Huge stones mark the circle, with some lying flat in the middle, almost like an altar. She doesn’t know what they once were but she can feel the electricity in the air, taste it like iron on her tongue.

“Hello?” she calls in a shaky uncertain voice. It must be nearly midnight; if she looks up, she can see the moon high above the trees. The wind rushes around her, and she shivers, tugging her cloak closed. “Are you here?”

Everything falls silent. A twig snaps, and she spins, peering into the dark thicket of trees between two of the largest stones. She’s about to call again as two golden eyes suddenly become visible, and instinct makes her pull back.

“Hello?” she whispers this time. For some strange reason, she doesn’t feel afraid, just apprehensive and uncertain in the face of something so unholy.

“You are ready to finish our bargain.”

She casts her gaze back the way she came, sorrow heavy in her heart. “I am.”

“The price was agreed,” he murmurs, golden eyes shining in the darkness surrounding him. “Yet I see tears in your eyes. Do you wish to take back what was given?”

Horror fills her, the image of her sister dying slowly still imprinted in her mind. She doesn’t want that. “I’m never going to see my family again,” she replies softly, wiping at her eyes. “Are you so unfeeling that you cannot understand grief?”

He chuckles at that, and she can hear him shifting around. “I understand perfectly.” Squinting isn’t giving her a clearer view of him, though her eyes are still adjusting to the lack of light. “You’re not afraid.”

It’s a statement, made out of curiosity, and she lets her shoulders relax. “I don’t think so,” she whispers. She’s uncertain what faces her, but it’s difficult for anything to overcome the despair at leaving her family. “Can I see you?”

There’s a pause, more rustling, and he clears his throat. “Have you ever seen a demon before?”

“No,” she answers truthfully, even as her mind conjures images of disgusting beasts and eldritch creatures.

He harrumphs under his breath. Y/N watches, unsure what to expect, and then he steps forward, letting the darkness melt away. At first he seems huge, and she hears the rustle of wings, but as he comes closer, he seems to shrink into a more human shape. He’s still tall, broad, rippling with muscle underneath a black shirt that clings to his skin, and the only things that indicate his otherworldliness are his golden eyes, his long white hair, and the two thick black horns curving out from the sides of his head. She sucks in a breath at the sight of him, and he stares at her with a hungry look in his eyes.

“Are you frightened now?” he asks.

There is fear but it’s inspired by a new feeling inside her, something raw and primal, something that’s telling her she belongs to this creature, and she’s not sure if it’s magic or him, or something else entirely. “No,” she says again, shaking her head this time.

His lips curl into a smile. “Curious,” he rumbles. “I knew there was a reason I answered the summons.”

The comment makes her frown. “Aren’t you compelled to?” He laughs, and it’s a sound that makes her insides quiver with need. There’s something strange about him that draws her in, and she takes a step closer to him, tilting her head. “Do you have a name?” she asks boldly.

He watches her in amusement, like he’s never encountered anyone like her before. “Geralt,” he concedes.

It feels more comfortable to have a name to use, though she’s no closer to understanding what is happening. If he didn’t have to respond to the ritual, why did he? The thought makes it out of her mouth before she can stop it, and the amusement doesn’t fade from his face.

“The ritual only binds the one whose blood is used,” he murmurs, closing the distance between them. “You are now bound to me, Y/N, for what I have given you. Do you understand what that means?”

Her mouth goes dry. “You take my soul,” she rasps, eyes watering again. “I have to die.”

There’s a second where he seems confused, and then his knuckles are brushing her cheek, wiping away the errant tear that escapes. “What gave you that idea?” She stares at him, puzzled by his words, and he’s suddenly right there, looming over her, one meaty paw cupping her face. Her heart is racing at his proximity, and she begins to understand exactly what he wants from her. “You’re mine now,” he repeats softly. “I will only ever protect you.”

“I-I don’t understand,” she breathes, lifting her hands to brace them against his chest, to stop him getting closer or just to touch him - she’s not certain which. He’s real and solid under her palms, and she’s surprised when she feels the dull thud of his heart in his chest.

“I’ve been alone for so long,” he hums, dropping his head just enough to nuzzle the tip of his nose against hers. “I was growing weary of solitude. Then I heard your plea…”

His lips brush hers, and she stuns herself by lifting her chin, allowing him to initiate the kiss. It’s not like she hasn’t been kissed before, she’s just never been kissed with such raw need, and before she can register it, he has her body pinned against his, held in place with a hand on her lower back. She can barely breathe when he breaks away to look down at her; his eyes are nearly black and it’s too hard to pull her gaze away.

“But you’re a demon,” she mumbles.

He answers in a gentle tone, almost amused by her dazed reaction. “I cannot help what I am.” His hand is around her hip now, keeping their bodies pressed together, and she can feel something hard digging into her belly. It takes a second for her to realize; her eyes widen, but she doesn’t pull away.

“You want me to be your companion,” she says slowly, acutely aware of how large he is. “For me to - to -”

Geralt smiles, and it’s a hungry smile, exposing his sharp canines. “Yes,” he confirms, voice thick and syrupy. “I knew as soon as I heard your plea. You are lonely too.”

She wants to be indignant at that, to deny it, except she has always been lonely. Once she thought she had found someone who she had been prepared to give her whole heart to, only for him to shatter the dream and walk away. Since then, her only duty had been to her family, and though she loved them dearly, she had never tried to be anything but the perfect daughter and sister.

“You see?” Geralt draws her back to the present. “You ache for someone to love you. To care for you. It’s why you were so ready to sacrifice yourself for your sister.” His hand somehow covers the whole side of her head, which should be terrifying, but she’s leaning into it, finding comfort in the touch. “You’re mine, Y/N.”

She nods, almost in a daze. He pulls back, taking her hand to lead her to the altar-like stone in the middle of the ruins, and she follows without question. When he sits, he drags her between his thighs, and the angle is much friendlier to her neck when he kisses her again.

“I need to hear you say it,” he growls, unclasping her cloak to let it fall to the ground.

Her eyes lock on his. The golden in them is nearly entirely eaten by black, and a rush of warmth ends right at her core. “I’m yours,” she manages weakly, suddenly acutely aware of the pounding of her heart and the blood in her veins. She feels like she should resist simply because he’s a demon, but she doesn’t feel any danger from him at all.

He tugs her dress up, slicing through the fabric that gets in his way with sharpened claws that are gone by the time he finds her flesh. Heat floods her face when he rubs thick fingers against her sex, and she flings out a hand to brace herself against his shoulder, leaning to the side as he sinks a single digit inside her. It’s thicker than anything that’s ever been inside her before, making her squeak and cling to him, and a rumble of amusement echoes in his chest.

“I’m not a virgin,” she whispers, suddenly in fear of disappointing him.

“Neither am I,” he replies in a quiet laugh. She gasps as he works a second finger into her, and she begins to think that if his cock is bigger than this, he might not fit. Somewhere in the back of her mind, there’s a part of her that rallies against the idea of intimate relations with a demon, but she ignores it in favor of his touch, gasping as he thrusts his fingers inside her as deep as they can go.

She can hear how wet she’s getting, and he can too, grunting his appreciation when his fingers come out glistening. When he pushes them into her again, she whimpers, rocking her hips to meet his movement, focusing on the fire he’s igniting in her belly. She’s felt it before, just not this powerful, like she’s forgotten how to breathe, and before she can vocalize the pleasure, her pussy clenches and she’s dripping down his wrist. He moans, almost covering the squelch of his fingers as they keep sinking into her over and over, forcing her to ride out every wave of her orgasm until he’s satisfied she’s done.

He withdraws, allowing her to rest as he tears his shirt off, but her attention has moved to the bulge in his pants. Reaching out, she brushes her fingers against it, looking up sharply when he growls low in his throat and slides his hand to the fastening. His cock springs free the second it's able, and she swallows around the lump in her throat, still uncertain she can take him.

Her apprehension must have been plastered across her face. He catches her chin, forcing her to look at him, and she sees reassurance in his eyes. “It will feel good,” he says softly, taking hold her hand to guide it to his shaft. It’s warm to touch, solid under her fingertips, so she grasps him in her hand, tentatively stroking down then up, smiling when he moans. “That’s it,” he purrs, pressing his hand between her thighs again.

The intrusion of his fingers is familiar now her body has adjusted but he takes his time to open her up properly, bringing her to the cusp of climax after climax. By the time he is hauling her into his lap, she’s a panting mess, yet she still hesitates as he presses the wide tip of his shaft to her entrance, using his fingers to position himself. His golden gaze fixes on hers when he begins to drag her down, and for a moment, she’s convinced he’ll break her, then the first inch is in and she practically begs for the rest. He sinks up into her slowly, letting her pussy drench him to ease his path, and when he’s finally buried deep, she can’t breathe for the pressure in her belly. Her walls hug him tightly, cockhead snug against her cervix, and he keeps her right there, grinding inside while she can do nothing except accommodate him.

“How does it feel?” he asks in a gravelly voice that makes her feel like he’s holding something back.

“You’re -” She still can’t control her breathing, almost shivering through overstimulation. “You’re so big, I -”

“Hmmm.” He sounds amused, watching as she gasps and splutters, pressing her hands against his chest before sliding them to his shoulders. “Would you like me to move?”

She whimpers with a nod. “Yes,” is all she can manage, and he chuckles, putting his hands to her waist. The first slow pull away from him has her digging her nails into his shoulders, but her body is quickly acclimatizing and when he’s almost fully withdrawn, she only wants him back inside her. He gives her exactly what she wants, filling her again, and she cries out in ecstasy, drowning out his low possessive growl.

There’s an electricity in the air when he begins to fuck her, overriding her meager strength to manipulate her body until she’s almost out of her mind with pleasure. The intensity of it makes her feel like she might die if he stops, or if he doesn’t; either way, she’s craving more and more, and it seems he is more than willing to give it. She comes for him easily, easing his path into her slick channel even more, and she’s sobbing by the time she’s done, prompting him to slow just a little.

He growls as she leans back just a little, held in his grasp. “I want to see all of you,” he grunts.

A clawed finger tears down the front of her dress. The fabric falls either side, exposing her breasts, and Geralt doesn’t hesitate, curling his long tongue around one stiff peak as she moans decadently. She reaches up, letting her fingers slide over the horns either side of his head, tugging experimentally. It inspires a moan that vibrates out against her sensitive skin, so she does it again, using the slight leverage to lift off of his cock before sinking back down.

He doesn’t stop her when she does it again. His hands tighten around her waist, giving her assistance on each stroke, bringing her down hard until she’s stuffed with him again. “I want to see all of you too,” she whines, resting her hands at the base of his horns. “I want to see what you really look like.”

Releasing her breast, he meets her gaze, baring his teeth slightly as she keeps moving. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs.

“You won’t,” she promises desperately.

His grip on her waist tightens, forcing her to slow. She gasps, watching the slow ripple as he relinquishes the control over his form, whimpering when he pulls her down hard on his cock as it grows with him, pushing her to her limit. Large black wings sprout from his back, his teeth become sharper, and his eyes glow; he’s breathtaking and terrifying, or he should be, but she feels no fear, only the need for him.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks, holding her down on his cock with clawed hands.

“Yes,” she hisses, panting and wriggling to relieve the unbearable pressure in her belly. He grabs her hand, pressing it down against her gut, and her eyes go wide. “Oh -” She can feel him, right underneath her palm, throbbing inside her.

“Like you were made for me,” he snarls, rocking his hips again so she can feel the thick girth dragging against her walls. “You’re mine.”

He moves before she can react, finding herself naked and pinned underneath him on the stone altar. His wings expand then contract, surrounding them as he slides down her body, covering her aching cunt with his mouth. She yelps when she feels his tongue probing her entrance, thick and long, wriggling, and it’s a new sensation that curls her toes as he pushes the flexible organ inside her. It doesn’t fill her like his cock does but it seems to touch every hidden part of her, and she can’t catch her breath, panting hard as she reaches a new high on his tongue.

She’s shaking from head to toe, yet he doesn’t stop, groaning against her pussy, nuzzling against her clit. The additional point of stimulation makes her reach down, sliding her fingers around one horn, and he snarls, fucking his tongue into her with a little more vigor. Her back arches at the unexpected force, and she can feel her heart hammering hard in her chest. She screams and writhes, but he holds her in place until he’s satisfied, and she’s boneless, eyelids fluttering as she fights the urge to pass out.

Withdrawing slowly, he climbs up her body, lining up his monstrous cock once more, and she feels like she’s looking up at a god instead of a demon. Her thoughts are swept away in the next instant when he cants his hips forward, burying his cock to the root inside her aching channel again. She falls apart in seconds, crying out until he silences her with a heady kiss. 

Time is meaningless. Every thrust sends her spiraling, raking her nails over his biceps as he claims her body along with her soul. She can’t think between bursts of ecstasy except for one driving need to feel him come inside her.

He growls as his strokes become sloppy, harder, faster, and finally, he buries himself as deep as he can, punching a choked cry out of her lungs as he spills into her. It’s hot and thick, and she groans as he keeps her still, riding out his orgasm and grinding deep until he’s done.

Her head rolls from side to side as the pleasure resides, though she can still feel him buried inside her, keeping his seed deep in her womb. He doesn’t move yet, coaxing her into a soft kiss as he remains with his wings sheltering them from the cold air. She hiccups a sob against his mouth, letting her fingers tangle in his hair, and when they part, she gasps for breath.

“Do not fret,” he murmurs, nuzzling into her gently.

She doesn’t feel up to anything like fretting at that moment, even as she looks up at his demonic countenance. Her limbs feel like jelly, and she’s certain she could fall asleep in the warmth of his hold. “Will they be alright without me?” she asks, because she has to know, and she trusts him to give her the truth.

He nods, kissing the corner of her mouth. “Yes.”

It’s all she needs. Her eyes flutter shut as she curls into his chest, contentment washing through her as the demon holds her close, lifting her from the stone to carry her towards the darkness he had come from.

When dawn breaks, all that is left is her cloak and a few tattered rags.

Thanks for reading! Please, please let me know if you liked it 🤗

#geralt x reader #demon geralt #monsterfucking #smut #adult fiction #fanfiction #fanfic #the witcher #geralt of rivia #reader insert #pwp #female!reader #angst #fluff #smutty smut smut

[phoenixfl3009]

Decided to do a warm up by writing a fun little “Fizzarozzie first kiss” scenario 💋💙💚

- - -

Fizz was understandably nervous.

Sweat beaded along his pasty white temple as he stared headlong into what remained of his breakfast. A single raspberry adorned his plate, desolate and destitute amidst a sea of syrup. With a dour frown, he continued to poke and prod and press at the glistening red berry with the end of an ornate-looking fork, trying vainly to suppress a shout of frustration at the maddening flutter of wings inside his lower stomach.

Do it, he thought. Just rip the band-aid off.

Naturally, predictably, Fizz remained as still as stone; his metallic fingertips a vice over the ivory utensil.

At his side, a discontented hum could be heard, followed by the familiar crinkling of paper. “Another gala?” Asmodeus intoned wryly, incredulity and exasperation weighing in equal measure as he regarded the news article. “Didn’t Luci just hold one’a these last week?”

“Actually, it was three days ago.” Fizz answered, surprising even himself as the words poured freely from his mouth, unbidden. He vehemently tamped down on the urge to slap a hand over his own mouth and instead settled for reaching across the length of the table for the pitcher of coffee, only too eager to drown his anxieties beneath the brunt weight of caffeine. He swallowed greedily, even as the ebony liquid scalded his tongue.

Fortunately, Ozzie didn’t appear to notice, having been too engrossed in his own thoughts to notice how skittish his jester was behaving. The chimera uttered a disbelieving scoff and proceeded to set the article aflame with a plume of cyan-imbued heat. “Yeah, that tracks. Knowing him, he’s probably using it as an excuse to celebrate his marriage, like always.” Ozzie conceded with a sigh. He brought his chin to rest in the center of a colossal palm and seemed to stare listlessly into space. “I can’t say I blame him. If I had someone like Lilith, I don’t think I could resist bragging neither.”

Fizz nearly choked on his mouthful. Nearly. Miraculously, he managed to save face and swallowed past the burning itch that had taken root in his throat.

Then, Asmodeus turned and offered Fizz a devilish grin. “What do you think,” He drawled in a tone as sweet and as spellbindingly heady as mead, drawing his index along the scope of Fizz’s spine. “My queen?”

This time around, Fizz does, indeed, choke spectacularly. His throat constricted tightly mid-swallow, lending the sensation that he was being drowned before he inevitably proceeded to hack his lungs up.

Satan’s balls, why refer to him as that, of all things? Of all days?

This was arguably not how Fizz imagined any of this would go; he was fucking this up left, right, and center.

A hand found purchase along the line of his back, the fingers drawing soothing circles as Asmodeus crooned softly. “Take it easy, babe. That’s it, breathe slowly,” He instructed as Fizz struggled to steady his breathing. Ozzie frowned, his features rife with concern as he regarded the red-faced imp. “You feeling okay? You’re usually not so jumpy.”

Despite himself, Fizz feigned a toothy grin. “I’m fine! Just, uh, a tickle in my throat.” He played it off with a wave of his hand, wondering if perhaps there was any conceivable way he could possibly salvage the situation. He had been thinking about this moment for so long already, and he feared if he waited any longer, the opportunity would pass him by completely and he would never have another chance, ever. It was inevitable, after all; how long could the Sin of Lust allow himself to be limited to just one demon? Really, it was a miracle Ozzie hadn’t grown tired of him after the first month, let alone three months.

Despite his assurance, Ozzie remained nonplussed and continued to look to Fizz imploringly. “Is there anything I can do to make it better?” The Sin inquired, sounding so genuine and so sincere, Fizz’s heart seized momentarily and the butterflies that had taken root inside of him tripled in their efforts; every velvety pass of their wingtips sending shivers throughout his entire body.

Fizz didn’t know what compelled him to speak, but when he did, the words felt foreign on his tongue, as if they weren’t entirely his own. “You could kiss it better,” He said, his voice ringing clearly in his ears.

He wasn’t sure what he expected. Dismissal and flat-out rejection being the two most obvious contenders, followed by pity, disgust, and disbelief. Asmodeus represented lust in its purest form; wild, unkempt, and untamed, and while kissing could be construed as lustful to some, for Asmodeus, it was tantamount to blasphemy. He didn’t kiss anyone, ever, and no one was permitted to kiss him. It simply wasn’t done.

Fizz knew that, had known that since the beginning of this arrangement, and yet, had the absolute gall to voice his request anyways, knowing full well that if it backfired, he could very well lose what he had with Ozzie in the here and now.

He continued to wait with bated breath, anticipating only the worst as Ozzie continued to stare coolly at him. Neither the ram nor the bull betrayed him, each having adopted a surprisingly neutral expression as Ozzie mulled it over. Then, with a slight incline of his head, he said, simply, “Okay.”

Fizz blinked, mouth agape, his mind racing a mile a minute as it struggled to process what the other had said when suddenly, he felt a mouth being pressed against his own.

Despite the stark difference in size and height, Ozzie’s mouth slotted perfectly with Fizz’s own. His beak was smooth to the touch and inexplicably warm, sending waves of molten heat throughout his entire body. He couldn’t help but compare the sensation to that of the circus, except unlike those flames that had only sought to inflict pain and suffering, these flames were gentle and kind and promised only safety and security.

It was heavenly.

It was otherworldly.

It was everything.

The kiss seemed to span lifetimes, and at the same time, mere seconds, ending far, far sooner than Fizz would have liked. His mind swam and a pleasant buzz entered his lips as he contemplated just how and why Ozzie would think to do something as wildly out of character as kiss him without wanting anything in return, sexually or otherwise.

The answer, astonishingly, came from none other than Ozzie.

The Sin smiled warmly at him, the expression reflected neatly across all three heads as he continued to gaze at Fizz as though he was the most precious thing in the entire world—as though he was Ozzie’s entire world. “Whatever my queen desires.”

#helluva boss #fizzarozzie #fizzmodeus #helluva boss asmodeus #helluva boss fizzarolli #fizz x ozzie

[ecoamerica]

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