#THOSE FEATHERS TOOK ME SO FUCKING LONG I THINK PART OF MY SOUL DIED

[lunarblazes]

WOOOOOO @mcytblrsecretsanta FOR @boatem AAAAAH! used this as an excuse to draw my boys again because b and i are both very based desertduo enjoyers. i'm really proud of how the painting turned out and i hope you like it, b :^DDDD!

#i. i have instantly forgotten the tag for the secret santas if i figure it out i'll add it ASHSJFHDJF #THOSE FEATHERS TOOK ME SO FUCKING LONG I THINK PART OF MY SOUL DIED #do i still not know how to paint #maybe #grian #goodtimeswithscar #3rdlife #luna's constellations #this did get me out of my art block though and it was real fun to get back into painting!

[monst]

The Silence after sex

This is an answer to that one anon who legit sent me a blank ask it’s right here. (Apparently it didn’t let me answer it directly) But, Seriously -.-‘ I’m not sure if you did it on purpose or if it was an accident. How am I supposed to answer silence???? You know what since ya like trolling me so much I’ll indulge ya. So I looked at this ask and, thought okay silence hmm-

The silence after sex

All characters 18+

Shigaraki Tomura, Dabi, Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Eijirou,  Shinsou Hitoshi,  Hawks (Takami Keigo), Fatgum (Toyomitsu Taishiro) Twice (Bubaigawara Jin) x reader (They are in that order if you wanna skip around)

Shigaraki Tomura

              After he cums inside you, you’re both a panting mess of sweat and saliva. He takes his time to pull out and, immediately demands cuddles. It’s a peacefully silence; His arms wrapped around your waist as yours cradle his head running your fingers through his greasy hair. It’s soothing. It’s safe. When you pull him up, he can’t help but feel emotional, What with you pressing soft kisses on his forehead your fingers tracing the wrinkles around his eyes. He feels loved. It’s a new and odd feeling but he doesn’t hate it. And, when you feel him grinding into you again you can only roll your eyes with a smile. Because if this rat boy only knows how to show how much you mean to him by fucking the shit out of you then by all means you were going to let him.

How the silence broke:

“I Love you Tomura.”

“I don’t hate you.”

(I love this crusty man!!)

Dabi

After your well and fucked your out like a light. And, once your eyes close the smirk that was on his face drops and, he’s looking at your abused body. He’s burning with turmoil angry that he does this to you and, angry that you let him do it. He’s thinking of how beautiful you are and, how you deserve better than some street rat. Any other person wouldn’t call you defaming things or get off at making you cry. They wouldn’t spit in your mouth and use you like a urinal. He was bad for you. But the moment leaving you enters his mind he’s pissed because he’ll be damned if anyone else got to see you like this. You were his and as he dressed in silence his eyes never left your form. So long as you were willing to shed tears for him and, beg for his return he’d always be back. But in the meantime he was going to snap a picture of you and leave. He’ll wait for one of two things. For you to wake and call him or for you to text him that you never wanted to see him again.

How the silence breaks:

“D-dabi where are you? Why’d you leave?”

“That’s none of your damn business dollface.”

“….Okay be careful…and…..remember I love you Dabi. I’ll be waiting for you to come back so…. don’t die…Please”

(Kaz is a Dabi fucker……)

Bakugou Katsuki

He breathed in the scent of your hair as he held you flush against his hard body. His arms cocooning you protectively.  He was in awe. He was always left in awe after he made love to you. You and, Bakugou never just fucked even when he was rough with you it was never mindless. You were the only person he’d every be vulnerable and open enough to have sex with. You were the only person in this world who carried a gold band on your finger given to you by the hero himself. He always thought of how lucky he was when ever you guys were snuggling in silence after sex. Today he was in a daze. After two years of marriage you were allowing him another part of your body. Your womb. His arms went down to caress your stomach the same stomach that will one day hold another little Bakugou. He pressed a gentle kiss to your head and, untangled his limbs from yours to get a rag to clean you up. You were already drifting when he came back a snort escaping his lips as he wiped off your drool. His lips coming into kiss you as he whispered-

How the silence broke:

“I love you so damn much.”

“Mmm”

(He’d be soft with his s/o afterwards and no one can tell me otherwise.)

Kirishima Eijirou

It was a silent morning. He woke up before you, wincing at the pounding of his head. It really felt like his brain was training to be an MMA fighter. He cast a look to your slumbering form a sad smile on his lips. You were undeniably gorgeous. You would also wake up with a hangover and, how he wished he could stay and tend to you when you awoke. But life didn’t work that way. He was just a booty call. A friend you called over to smash because another lover had broken your heart. Why couldn’t you give your heart to him? Why was he always reduced to a rebound? He let out a heartbreaking sigh as he pulled up his jeans. Once dressed he walked into your bathroom to pull out some asprin. His red eyes were shot tears threatening to spill over. Sex with someone you loved was supposed to leave you feeling happy and complete. But, whenever he and, you had sex he felt hallow, sad and regretful. Putting a glass of water by your bedside with the pills he ran his fingers through his hair. He knew the drill leave before you get up and come back when you called in tears….. But, he was done the post-it on the glass should be enough of an explanation. He was done with the vicious cycle and, next time you called he wasn’t going to be back.

How the silence broke:

Your sobs could be heard from outside of your apartment as you clutched the note to your chest. You had realized to late how wonderful Kirishima really was.

(Whoops…. This happened)

Shinsou Hitoshi

The smile on his face afterwards could only be compared to the sun. Bright and shining as your fingers traced shapes on his bare chest. You made him completely happy and, whether he was topping or not he was always left with a feeling of connection to you. You completed him and, thoughts like those ran wild in his head. Thoughts of how you’d raise little gremlins and, grow to be rocking chair raisins. His fingers came to stroke your cheek his lips parting in a soliloquy-

How the silence broke:

“Last night I dreamt of the sun….. it was bright, it was warm, and it was wonderful….. Her light shone upon me granting me warmth from the cold. Her luscious heat making me smile. She illuminated the grey filling up my heart. She brought warmth to my sheets, a fire to my soul, joy to my life and with that she took my heart. When she captured it, I thought for a moment why is it that sun chooses to shine for me? Isn’t the sun so breathtaking? Radiant?! Blinding?! Why…the sun?.. It brings life, it brings hope for a new tomorrow…. She brings me life, she is my hope for tomorrow….And I? I am her earth the one she fills with creations, with hopes and dreams. I am her earth that will never cease to spin around her. Even when I’m blue and dizzy my dance will be for her. But then I woke up…..I wasn’t dismayed because when I turned to the side she there was the sun right beside me.

(Shinsou is a poetic romantic! Change my mind!)

Takami Keigo (Hawks)

He was content with the silence. After years of unspoken attraction, it finally happened and if he was much happier than he was at that moment he’d burst. That’s why his face was buried in your stomach as he laid upon your legs. Your arms came down to caress his wings. Your fingers felt like heaven on his soft feathers that he could feel his arousal begin to rise again. However, it was a tender moment that and, he felt so comfortable. It was as if your arms were made to hold him and the thought had him drawing circles into your lower back. From your seated position you looked down missing his blissed-out expression as his sandy locks blocked your view. You didn’t stop threading your finger through his feathers and he wasn’t going to ask you to stop either. You stroked the red plumage until you felt him shudder. You paused. It didn’t look like it harmed him, so you repeated the action receiving the same trembles from the man. It was then that he made a sound and you couldn’t help but look down at him incuriously.

How the silence broke:

“Keigo? Are you cooing?”

“Roo.”  

(If keigo cooing isn’t a thing it is now!)

Toyomitsu Taishiro (Fatgum)

              Toyomitsu was scared. He wasn’t speaking and neither were you. Were you dead? Did he drown you in his cum? Oh Lord please don’t let that be the case. He could see it now ‘Pro-Hero Fatgum kills his girlfriend via oral!’ He was relived when he heard the audiable sound of you swallowing. Streams of his essence slipping past your lips as you were unable to swallow it all. Hell Fatgum didn’t mind he was more impressed with the fact that you could even take him in your mouth. When your eyes finally met his, he gave you a sheepish grin making you roll your eyes with a smile. You felt like a turkey on thanksgiving with how stuffed you were. Fatgum stretched your cunt beyond what you thought possible and, had filled you up so well that it was still flowing out. That wasn’t anything compared to how sore your jaw was and how full your belly was. He really took being a whole ‘meal’ to a whole ‘nother level. Toyomitsu knew he was a big man even without his quirk so he was quick to make sure you were okay.

How the silence broke:

“Ya scared me darlin’ thought ya died for a second there.”

“Ha. Ha….. Ugh I’m so damn full. Wipe that grin off your face!”

(He has so much lewd potential that I can’t even!)

Bubaigawara Jin (Twice)

              He had pulled out a while ago a bashful look on his face as he looked down at you in your afterglow. His eyes took in everything from your frazzled hair to the light sheen of sweat that made your skin glow. He didn’t waste a single second and immediately took you into his strong arms cuddling you. You smiled brushing your nose upon his in a cute bunny kiss his stubble brushing against your chin. You ignored the scratchy feeling in favor of running your fingers down the scar of his forehead leaning up to press your lips upon it lovingly. Twice didn’t say a word. Although he ached to tell you how much he loved you and how happy you’ve made him he refused to open his mouth. He was afraid that after he said something to melt your heart, he’d ruin it by saying something rude. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you. You who had completed his life. He had finally found a place with the league, comrades a family and, then you came in to complete the picture. You came in to love him all! Damn he loved you! So much. Maybe he should just say it.

How the silence broke:

“I love you (Name), That’s right my fucking bitch.”

“This fucking bitch loves you too Jin.”

(Love him!!! Love him please!!!)

.

.

.

.

(There you got 8 characters happy??!! Lmaoo you can totally tell who I follow with these scenarios that and there so damn self-indulgent but hey can you blame me? The ask was to make something out of nothing right? Right?!?!)

#bnha #bnha insert #bnha imagines #bnha scenarios #shigaraki tomura #Dabi #bakugou katsuki #eijirou kirishima #shinsou hitoshi #keigo takami #taishiro toyomitsu #jin bubaigawara #shigaraki x reader #dabi x reader #bakugou x reader #kirishima x reader #shinsou x reader #hawks x reader #fatgum x reader #twice x reader #shigaraki smut #dabi smut #dabi lemon #bakugou smut #bakugou lemon #kirishima smut #kirishima lemon #Kirishima angst #shinsou smut #shinsou lemon

[fishmongeringstudies]

five: the ballad of the goose-girl

once upon a time there was a goose who wanted to become a man. or there was a man who wanted to become a goose. or there were both, or there were none, or there were many of the same spell. once upon a time there were ten thousand geese and they wanted to go south. why? because it was too cold up here, they said. too far from the equator. too lonely.

one of the geese was called jorge. jorge had been assigned the role of miserable family caretaker with an inferiority complex from birth but a brief spell of rebellion in their teenage years led to their official disengagement from the role and subsequently, the adopting of a new one. jorge was a philosopher. their favorite philosopher was kant. they had never read any kant because geese can't read.

dimitri could read. dimitri was a goose but there was, how do you put it, something a little off about her. sometimes dimitri woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, her blankets kicked to the other end of the room, babbling about microeconomics and the supply-demand curve for cross-continental flying gear. dimitri was in a mad, one-sided love that consumed her body and soul, but this wasn't that bad in the broader scheme of things because this gave jorge, who couldn't read, something to do.

sometimes dimitri would read jorge poetry. dimitri had memorized every book of poetry in the main branch of the national library when she made a stopover there in her youth and could now be called upon to recite almost any poem from memory, as long as she didn't hate the poet. for example, dimitri hated sylvia plath. no matter how much jorge begged and pleaded with her as they flew over the skyscrapers of new york, the masses of writhing trees and open fields dotted with cows and sheep and death, she would not change her mind. 'please,' jorge would say while they stopped to rest on the fender of some college student's beat-up honda civic. 'read me a poem. any poem.' 'you mean,' dimitri would say, taking a drag from her cigarette. 'read me a plath poem.' 'that's not what i said,' jorge would respond defensively, because jorge was the kind of goose that assumes the world is out to get them no matter what and sticks their head in the gift-horse's mouth and then screams down its gullet for five minutes. finally, dimitri would laugh. 'that's what you mean.' then the conversation would end.

one day dimitri and jorge got separated from the flock. this was not unprecedented, as dimitri had been lagging behind for a few days now and jorge, being her designated attendant, had stayed with her. but it was just as frightening for jorge as it had been the first time, fifteen years ago when dimitri had pitched out of the sky halfway across philadelphia like an anvil and jorge had found her sprawled on the fender of some sad person's fucked-up lamborghini, looking like an angel in a bad insurance advertisement. it was always the fenders. dimitri had a thing for fenders.

dimitri also had a thing for letting her long, healthy history of communication problems fuck up her relationships with other geese, a habit she had picked up in her youth alongside smoking, lying, and reciting poetry. she was doing all three of the latter as they circled around the deserted shopping complex a fifth time, the sun a blurry white spot a few feet beneath their heads. 'did you know,' said dimitri, a cigarette clamped in her beak.

'no, i don't know,' said jorge.

'asshole. i haven't started speaking yet.'

jorge observed the setting sun with a detached kind of panic. 'yes you have.' they brushed something out of their eye with their wing. the smoke from dimitri's cigarette kept getting into their eyes. it was making it hard to concentrate on not being sad. 'you said 'did you know.''

'that's not the important part.'

'then what is the important part?'

'the important part is-'

south meant many things to many creatures. depending on who you asked and what time of the day it was when you did, you might get anything ranging from 'the southern tip of malaysia' to 'nineteen-seventy-five'. right now, in this particular snapshot of time, south meant the following things. for jorge, it meant freedom. for dimitri, it meant-

'-is that every shopping mall is a little haunted.'

jorge was unimpressed. most things were haunted to some degree or another. it was a very old world and the people that lived in it were all very broken, but that didn't stop the broken things from wanting to hang around, even after their ribs had cracked open and their lungs were smeared with soot. they told dimitri as much.

dimitri cleared her throat, which was hard to do while lying and smoking and flying in a circle around a deserted haunted shopping complex but otherwise feasible for a geese as competent as her. she turned to look at jorge, the trickle of her gaze sliding over their white, wind-tossed body like a cool hand over a flame.

'what i'm saying is let's spend the night there.'

;

once upon a time there was a goose named dimitri who was in a mad, requited love that consumed her body and soul. her partner was a poet, of course, because all geese want to fall in love with a poet, but here's the catch. jie ting never told dimitri which poems were about her. dimitri spent years trying to coax the confessions out of her, making her breakfasts in bed, bringing home cute little mice with their tails tied up in butterfly knots, kissing the spot where her wing met the curve of her body with the kind of reverence worshipers reserve for the day they meet their creator, but jie ting was stubborn and beautiful and kind and dimitri could never bring herself to do the truly horrible thing, to walk into her study and crack open the journals she kept those intimacies in. in spite of this, well, this thing between them, they were happy. they puttered around making cups and plates out of wet clay. they told stories about their cousins who had gotten lost in rain forests in the amazon and streets in taipei. every year they made the long journey down south, and then flew back up in the spring. and then jie ting died, and then there was no one left to coax anything out of.

the doctors said there was nothing dimitri could have done for her. for every million perfectly preventable deaths there are two to three freak accidents, faultless failures, broken vessels. and for every broken body on the pavement, trampled by cars bigger than the both of them combined, there was a broken heart.

dimitri closed up their old haunt in the woods. she broke all the mugs and gave all the bones back to their grieving micey relatives, who were horrified, and then angry, and then sad. then she flew all the way down to singapore and learned every poem in every poetry book they had in the national library, a looming glass building in the heart of the business district, and dragged her battered body all the way back up north, through miles and miles of snow-kissed nothing, and then jorge returned home in the spring with the rest of the good ones, the ones who weren't fucked in the head, who still had hope to speak of.

she can teach me poetry, thought jorge.

they definitely went to a liberal arts college, thought dimitri.

neither of these things are true. but neither are the stories that led them to each other. a lie canceled out a lie and after the dust had settled and dimitri had recovered from the ghost of death on her shoulder, they found each other standing right where they had started out, on opposite ends of the same crooked street.

;

the perfume store smelled like sixteen layers of hell distilled into a single bottle of wine that had been left to ferment for a few millennia and then smashed in a pool of vomit but it was the only place that wasn't so overgrown with vines that jorge could clear out a place for dimitri to lie down. they did so with an efficiency that startled even themselves, brushing dust and old receipts aside with one wing and spritzing the whole place clean with the other. dimitri was then coerced into the little sacred spot, though she was deeply reluctant and jorge was deeply embarrassed about the whole thing. desperate times call for desperate measures. when there are two geese and one perfume store and nineteen shades of bergamot and lavender, one learns to quieten their demons.

the funny thing about geese is that they are about sixty-percent neck and forty-percent everything else and yet a goose lying sideways occupies two hundred percent of the previous amount because geese are conceited like that. dimitri took up more than enough space on the shelf in the perfume store from hell, but with a little maneuvering she was able to make enough space to pull jorge down beside her. the funny thing about geese is they have very big egos, and very small dreams.

'imagine i am your mother,' said dimitri, waving one wing idly in the dark. 'singing you a lullaby as you drift off, packing your lunchbox for school, turning out the light in your bedroom.'

jorge's eye twitched. 'huh? i will not,' they said. 'that's disgusting.'

'oh. you think i'm disgusting?'

'no, that's not what i mean-'

'-but that's what you said.'

'-i said the idea of you as my mother is disgusting.' jorge hid their face in their feathers but their beak was too long and stuck out in a highly noticeable manner, therefore ruining the effect altogether. they grumbled to themselves, then spent a few minutes contemplating the fifteen feet of nothing that lay before them. a field of snow, ash, or flowers. darkness could be whatever you wanted it to be. that was part of the appeal of closing your eyes.

'hey,' they said.

'mm?'

'why won't you recite a plath poem?'

the sound of something soft against the wall. dimitri was brushing the flat of her wing along the wall behind her, over the faded labels and the peeling tiffany blue paint. 'because i can't.'

'but you know them, don't you,' jorge pressed.

'i do.'

'then?'

'how old are you this year, jorge?'

'old enough to read depressing poetry.'

'but not old enough to have fallen in love.' she withdrew her wing from the wall. it came away caked in dust and old memories. rich, gold-kissed families with kids in little bow-ties, babies forgotten in well-lit dressing rooms, the occasional stabbing. 'am i wrong?'

jorge bristled behind her. 'what does love have to do with this?'

'because,' dimitri mused, and jorge felt every sound that she made in their chest, where the heart was working furiously to keep blood circulating without end. 'all poems are love poems.'

'you know,' said jorge.

'i don't know.'

'good. you shouldn't.' jorge curled themselves tighter, so the two hundred percent became a hundred and ninety-five. 'i'm going to sleep. good night.'

;

once upon a time there was a goose who would do anything for her lover and then that lover died. once upon a time there was a goose who was really good at literary analysis, so good she could have taught at harvard if she hadn't wanted to be closer to her lover, who worked in non-profit and spent most of her time abroad, and then her lover died. once upon a time there was a goose. and she knew a lot of poetry. it was the last thing she did for jie ting, with the gray-dusted coat and the heather eyes. do geese have heather eyes? fuck it. this one did.

once upon a time there was a goose who really wanted to go to a liberal arts college, but their dad gambled all their savings away on a business venture which went bust moments before the big cash-out and so the college fund became a college black hole, a college financial aid form which procured miserably few sympathies from the financial aid office, a college nothing. this goose was really quite smart, though they couldn't prove it to save their life. but the other goose knew. the other goose wasn't as smart. she'd just had more money. and worse luck.

this isn't a love story. in this story there are no love stories because in some languages every story is a love story, and if everything is something then there is really nothing, no takeaway at the end of the parable, no shard of glass in the sand. imagine you're walking along the coastline in a white dress made from diamonds and you step on that shard of glass. there goes your foot. what will you do? the world is ending.

in the morning dimitri wakes up first. she touches jorge's forehead with the tip of one wing, then the flat of it, then the side. there's a bar of sunlight coming in through a gap in the moth-bitten blinds and it falls across jorge's face in rivulets of gold-leaf, liquid wonder. she watches them sleep for a few minutes, their chest rising and falling and trembling with all that infallible youth, with the faithless determination of someone whose body has grown older but whose soul has stayed as faultless, as clueless, as divine. if god were a goose it would be jorge. says who? says dimitri, who has god's number saved on her phone.

once, a few months ago, she wrote a poem. this she read out to jorge, while they were flying over the rooftops of san diego, each word falling out of her mouth like stars, like things she should have really kept to herself and in the safety of untouchable darkness and yet jorge was looking at her. she was reading this poem and jorge was looking at her and it wasn't the kind of look you gave someone you found by the side of the road, someone who had helped you with your college apps and tied your tie on prom night. it was the kind of look you gave an angel you wanted to pin to the sheets.

'is this poem about someone?' asked jorge, who was for all their cluelessness and cruelty, quite terribly perceptive when one wanted them least to be.

panicking, dimitry dropped her cigarette. she shook her head. 'no.' she shook her head again, for emphasis.

once, dimitri had a fit of coughs so bad she passed out right there in the lobby of that high school. the doctors said it was her lungs. her friends said it was the cigarettes. jie ting, who was long dead by then, said it was the heartbreak. put it back together, said the ghost of her dead lover. you can put yourself back together. maybe i don't want to, dimitri said, a sheaf of papers falling out of the pocket of her coat.

once, she didn't go south. she went up north in search of forgiveness, and when jorge arrived in the spring, they were as lovely as she remembered them being while she had gotten nowhere. still stuck in place, spinning in slow circles, watching god die on a white-gold stage. still mourning.

'i'll write you a poem,' jorge said the other day. 'to thank you.' for being the first person. for being the first person ever.

'don't bother,' she told them.

'i'll do it anyway.'

'i won't read it.'

'you will.'

once there was a goose and another goose and they were all lovely and sad with long, elegant necks and hard, sharp beaks for cracking things open but all they ever did was crack themselves open, like if you hurt yourself enough times you could make the world give you back what it had taken away. but that's not how it works. you know this. you know this, don't you? dimitri? dimitri?

dimitri's still in that old perfume store. she's leaning closer and closer to sleeping beauty, with the lanky limbs and the merry-go-round smile, and she's whispering something, though she'll never tell you what and you'll never get the chance to ask, she's breathing like the air's made of glass. sea-glass. have you ever seen the ocean? she'll take you one day. your name is jorge and you're asleep. you're being kissed on the mouth by a very beautiful person. she's going to die.

but all living things die eventually, you counter. you don't get it. you are missing the point.

that's fine. miss the point. keep sleeping. the moon pulls away from you the way some people pull knives out of bodies, like she can feel every inch of distance she puts between yourselves in her chest, where the heart is working furiously to keep life alive. she pulls away and it hurts her, you know. did you know? you can fall in love twice. you can fuck yourself up twice. there's always room in the cupboard for more ceramic mugs. she made you one. she'll never give it to you. you never asked.

that's your first kiss. and your second, and your third, and as you grow older the kisses will meld together into this looming memory of touch, sensation, heat, softness, girls, girls, girl. girl with the cigarette between her teeth. girl with the sharpshooter eyes, the gunmetal laugh. girl walking you home, girl flying you across the starless city, girl singing you a lullaby when you're eighteen and the world hates people like you who give life everything you've got and have the audacity to think it'll listen.

girl walking out of the perfume store. girl stepping into the half-light. girl leaving you behind.

or maybe it's the other way around. this way you will be able to catch up to the rest of the flock, this way you will make it to the other side of the world before winter gets its hands around your ankles. she's giving you an opportunity. take it. i said take it.

south means a lot of things depending on who you ask. for jorge, it's freedom, new skies, sunsets drenched in whiskey. for jorge it's the second best thing about being alive. for dimitri, it's death.

once upon a time there was a goose and their name was jorge. once upon a time there was a goose and her name was dimitri. in another version of this story they meet each other before the accident and the hospitals and the house in the woods, the financial crash, the long, cruel winter. in another version they kiss with their eyes open, their hearts unspooling around the confession, the truth, the sacred thing that lets people be happy with each other. in another version of this story jorge says read me a poem and dimitri says i'll read you something sweeter, and then she reads them a love poem.

in this one, one goose dies, and the other keeps flying.

A smile fell in the grass. Irretrievable! And how will your night dances Lose themselves. In mathematics? Such pure leaps and spirals - Surely they travel The world forever, I shall not entirely Sit emptied of beauties, the gift Of your small breath, the drenched grass Smell of your sleeps, lilies, lilies. Their flesh bears no relation. Cold folds of ego, the calla, And the tiger, embellishing itself - Spots, and a spread of hot petals. The comets Have such a space to cross, Such coldness, forgetfulness. So your gestures flake off - Warm and human, then their pink light Bleeding and peeling Through the black amnesias of heaven. Why am I given These lamps, these planets Falling like blessings, like flakes Six sided, white On my eyes, my lips, my hair Touching and melting. Nowhere.

05.25.21

#poem at the end is night dances by sylvia plath #did you know geese. grab their neck. this is a mistake you can always count on

[midnight-hotel]

I was thinking of a Alastor x Reader , where the reader is a fallen angel, and was given up by god, so now that she is in Hell she doesn't know where to go. You can do whatever you want from this, impress me

//Well, I impressed myself so I hope I’ve impressed you too!

Everyone had heard of God’s new plan. It was the biggest thing to happen in Heaven since the day word spread about the ‘Happy Hotel’ down in Hell. A rehabilitation centre for sinners wasn’t such a bad idea thanks to the population issue down there but it was also a ridiculous notion because, well… souls were sent down there for a reason. Now, you had never been human, so you were no expert on whether or not demons deserved a second chance, but unlike the princess of hell, you’d been given the chance to observe the behaviour of human beings and had yet to form an opinion on the matter. Not a proper one at least. However, you did not see demon’s worth so much as to have God banish an angel down to hell for all eternity to see if they can make any impact. It would be one thing to just send an angel down there, but it had been made clear that they needed someone expendable. An angel they could afford to lose should they be killed down there in hell.

That hardly sit well in your stomach and when you saw the arch angel Michael fly into the city centre with news of who would be sent down to hell, you spread your wings and took off to get closer. Whose life were they about to ruin? Angels all around you murmured softly between each other, watching closely as Michael gazed around as if looking for the ‘chosen one’. Everyone waited with bated breath until a name was finally uttered from the Angel’s plump lips.

“Amethyst Hearth.”

The name almost seemed to echo despite the softness of his strong voice and within moments, the crowd parted to show the young angel, a woman who had hardly been in heaven three years. From what you had head, she had been a single, teen mother. A young girl who had been taken advantage of in her youth but did her best to make a decent life for herself and her child. Unfortunately, she died in an accident of some sort.

“N-No! No, please, I couldn’t possibly survive down there!” The woman practically cried, taking stumbled steps back, trying to put more distance between herself and Michael as if that would make any difference to her fate. No one dared speak up, for no one wanted to defy the will of God.

“You’ll be serving our father more than you ever could have here in heaven. Don’t you see, you’ve been chosen, out of millions of angels, god’s children, to do this deed. To make a difference,” Michael’s soft voice spoke, reaching all ears without much effort. Crystal like tears rolled down her flushed cheeks as the angel shook her head, spreading her wings to get ready to fly away, only for a couple angels to finally step in and grab her arms.

“No! Let go of me! I don’t want to! I’ll die!”

You could feel your pulse increasing and clenched your fists to refrain from speaking. This was wrong, beyond wrong, but who were you to defy God’s wishes? He knew all, did he not? Yet you found yourself doubting him more and more as Amethyst struggled to escape. At war with yourself, you caved, spreading your large white wings and giving a single, strong flap, taking you over everyone else before landing once more, between Michael and the young girl. How could you, an angel of over three hundred years, allow such a young angel to suffer.

“Arch Angel Michael, you can’t do this!” You declared firmly, hands trembling lightly but standing strong. “I don’t see why God can’t just send an angel, an exterminator perhaps, down into hell to do his work? Why take someone’s halo from them? Their grace? It’s insanity!” Murmurs started back up at your sudden defence, familiar faces backing further into the crowd so they didn’t have to watch someone they knew make a fool of themselves. “I love God, he is my beloved father, but I can not stand by and watch this young woman lose even more after only dying recently. She stands no chance down there.”

“Miss (L/N), I would hold my tongue if I were you. If you continue to defy god, I cannot be held accountable for what may come next,” Michael warned you, fingers twitching by his side, ready to summon his holy weapon if you were to lash out. Your own hand longed for the comfort of your own holy weapon but you refrained from summoning it out of fear for what Michael may do to you.

“I will not let God or anyone else strip this angel of her halo without good reason. Send an exterminator,” you insisted, narrowing your eyes at your superior, holding up your brave front as best as you could but you could not deny the absolute terror prompting your heart to beat fast enough to harm had you been a regular human being.

You held Michael’s gaze, unwavering until you saw his tense body relax as a sigh escaped his lungs.

“Very well, Father has accepted. We will send an exterminator. Enjoy your time in Hell (Y/N) (L/N).”

Your eyes widened as your lips parted in horror. What? Gasps were heard from all around before you no longer felt God’s comforting warmth around you and the sensation of falling filled your very being. Oh, you were falling. No matter how hard you fought to spread your wings and catch yourself, you still plummeted. It hurt, no, it burned and after what seemed like eternity, you crashed.

Your body collided with a tall standing building, dropping through floor after floor and continuing a few feet after you hit the ground. The building soon followed, crumbling to the ground around your fallen from, unable to move out of the way. Yet nothing landed on you. With your arms and wings spread out, you stared up at the red sky above, dark yet somehow bringing light… Up, way above, was a white dot, much like the sun as it shone down on the earth, only now it was taunting you, reminding you of where you no longer were.

“Why have you forsaken me Father? Was I not right for protecting my fellow angels?” you barely whispered, the taste of blood finally reaching your tongue. You would heal in due time… nothing to fear. No, what you had to fear were the demons slowly making their way around you, gazing into the crater you had created with your ungraceful fall. Guess that’s what happens when you have your grace ripped away from you.

“Is that an angel?”

“What’s an angel doing in hell?”

“They don’t look like an exterminator. Fuck it, let’s take their wings.”

“Heh, you can have the wings, I’m after their halo.”

Voices chimed from all around you and all you could do was watch in a panic as you willed your body to move. You may not have had your halo anymore but you sure as hell weren’t going to let these demons take your wings! Your fingers twitched as the demons pushed each other around to get to you first, pulling weapons on each other despite knowing they could hardly kill each other without a holy weapon. Speaking of… You managed to close your fist and summoned your exterminator’s spear. Having the familiar weapon in your hands gave a wave of comfort to your sore body and an even bigger wave of energy.

While everyone was distracted with fighting each other off, you grunted, pushing yourself off the ground with the help of your spear to prevent you from going back over. It seemed everyone had noticed you stand up, shaking dirt and rubble out of your huge wings as an exterminator’s mask glitched over your face, crack running down the crossed-out eye as it struggled to stay activated. Perfect, a glitching mask. Just what you needed.

“Back off,” you growled, taking on a defensive stance, very aware of the fact that you were surrounded, and horribly wounded. The extent of your injuries could be figured out later, for now, you needed to get out of the open and find a place to hide out. You pulled your wings in tight against your back as all weapons were turned on you from those who hadn’t run off the moment your mask glitched into place. Good, a lot of them were smart enough not to mess with an exterminator. Well, ex-exterminator but they didn’t have to know that now did they?

Heart in your throat and pounding in your ears, you put up the fight of your life. So many demons usually feared exterminators, but many of these fools refused to back down, perhaps believing that they had a chance against a lone angel. You’d be ashamed to admit they were almost right, but luck seemed to be on your side, as you cut another demon down and dashed out of there, running down alleyways, running across empty streets and eventually finding yourself in an abandoned building, barely standing from ears of abuse. You recognised it, much to your own surprise, as a place you have been to before. You’d chased a demon here once. Killed them right in the corner you were sitting in, out of breath and body trembling from pain and fear. You hadn’t trembled so badly since your first extermination. Hell was a scary place, especially when you’ve never been there before. You’ve been here hundreds of times now, only this was your first time alone and with no clear way home.

Your heart didn’t slow all that much, your body too tense to possibly relax any time soon, but your breathing got better, much to the relief of your aching chest. Now calming down and somewhat safe, you uncurled and rid yourself of your mask, but kept your spear by your side. Just in case you needed to defend yourself again – but you weren’t so sure just how well you’d hold up in another fight so soon, so you could only pray that you were safe.

You stretched one of your wings out, curling it around yourself to inspect the damage, finding shards of glass stuck within the feathers and embedded in your wings, staining the once pure white feathers red. That was going to take a while to wash out… You heaved out a sigh and plucked out the shards of glass, causing your wounds to bleed some more but not dangerously. You did the same to the other wing and finally, felt yourself starting to relax when you realised that your wings weren’t broken, just damaged. They’d heal within time; you would be fine.

“Those are some nasty injuries you have there my dear! Why, I’d say you’ve had quite the fall,” a distorted voice suddenly spoke from one of the awfully dark corners of the room. Lifting your head quickly, you searched for the source of the voice, only to find two red, glowing orbs staring right back at you. How hadn’t you noticed them when you came inside?! No- they weren’t in here when you arrived, they had followed you. You quickly reached out for your spear, only for it to slap back down onto the hard ground as a dress shoe clad foot stepped down on it.

“Now, now, let’s not cause a scene, shall we? After the show you just put on, I doubt you’re in any shape to be taking anyone on any time soon,” he chided, kneeling down before you.

A tall man dressed in a red pin-striped suit, bright red and black hair and… hey would you look at that, he was a deer demon… and unfortunately, you recognised him. Exterminators typically knew a lot about those who roamed around in hell. For example, you could name a good number of the overlords, such as the man before you now, grin ever present on his face.

“Radio Demon…” you murmured, making his grin stretch wider as amusement shone in his eyes.

“My, the little angel knows who I am~” he hummed, grabbing your chin in a firm grip, turning your head this way and that as if to take a good look at you.

“You’re going to kill me then?” you questioned, your own (E/C) eyes staring intensely back into his. You were terrified, no doubt about that, but if you were going to die, then you would die fighting. The demon chuckled and shook his head.

“No, no, no, darling! Quite the opposite actually, I’m here to offer you a helping hand!” he declared, standing back up and making a microphone appear in his hand as he stepped off of your spear. Taking this as your chance, you picked it up and stood, holding your weapon defensively, pointed right at his chest.

“I hardly doubt you could help me demon. Now leave me alone before I end your sorry existence right here and now,” you warned him, hoping he’d just back down and maybe come back later. When you could actually stand a chance against him. He merely chuckled again, beginning to piss you off.

“Couldn’t I now? Not even if I offered you a 100% safe place to stay and assistance with your injuries?” he inquired with a raised brow.

You couldn’t afford to believe him. He was a demon, a liar, there was no way he wanted to help you out.

“How can I possibly trust you? Demon’s don’t do nice things for the sake of others, so what do you want?”

Alastor sighed but his smile never faded as he turned around and started to walk towards the exit of the building.

“I never said I was doing this from the good of my heart and what I want hardly matters either. It’s up to you if you trust me or not, but I’d remember where you are quickly. Not many here in hell are going to be so generous.”

So, what else was there to do but follow? After all, at this rate, you were going to die anyway. You never would have imagined that he would lead you to the very Hotel that started this ordeal in the first place.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #alastor x reader #radio demon #fallen angel #fallen angel reader #angel reader #alastor x angel reader #reader is an exterminator #willing to write part two if wanted

[emrysaf]

A-Z Affection Prompts

Spike - V (Vows)

Here it is Anon! Hope you and whoever else reads it, likes it!!! Like I replied to your ask, this RAN away with me. So, it is LONG. Sorry?? - EmrysA

“Vows are powerful things," he said. "They set things in motion.”

― John C. Wright, Orphans of Chaos

You knew you weren’t the first mortal that had been wooed by a demon of the night. Whether that be by an actual demon, a vampire or any and all things in between. You knew most mortals that had been on the receiving end of said wooing were very, very dead now. You also knew the type of mortal this specific, bleach-blond vampire had claimed to love before.

And if anything, you were nothing like the infamous slayer; Buffy Summers.

William “The Bloody”, aka Spike, and yourself had been dancing around each other for years. Due to your innate ‘fight’ response when confronted with a flight or fight situation, Buffy had saved you some time ago and as luck would have it you became a part of the Scooby Gang. 

However, in high school, you had been a few grades below them all and still felt like more on an outsider in the group. This would lead you to sitting just outside the group or a step back from them on “missions” which Spike picked up on.

--“Us outsiders have to stick together,” he said one day after he yanked you by the collar of your sweater to avoid getting your face scratched off by a demon.--

There had always been a sense of comaraderie; a closeness. But you could see, despite the closeness and your budding feelings, that the undead, brain-chipped man only had eyes for the gorgeous slayer. And who wouldn’t? So, you tucked it away and told yourself it was a teenage crush.

Then there was Glory and Buffy sacrificed herself.

Eventually Willow brought her back, but she was. . . Different. This Buffy seemed to, maybe, feel the same for Spike that he had been feeling for her. 

When that song and dance demon came you were more than happy that everyone else seemed to be paired off. No chance for a song to force it’s truth out of you. But before he was officially gone, you had seen them. Together. 

You broke that little bit more. No, not break. Your heart was torn that bit more.

As an outsider, without a love or a love to recover from like Xander, you could see what was happening. Like looking inside while being locked out.

Willow was losing her grip. Things had been strained before the song and dance of truth and death. Then they reached a peak.

But eventually Tara would forgive her. You just knew that look of love, despite everything they do to hurt you; intentionally or not. Like when they sleep with someone to get over someone else, and then everyone is hurt.

Absolute shit hit the fan when Warren did the unthinkable. Attempted, and almost succeeded in killing Buffy. Murdering Tara.

The Willow you know is gone. Spike was gone. Something had happened, but no one was talking.

Then, in what felt like a snap, everyone was back. But different. And the apocalypse was nigh again. Yay.

-------------------------------------------------------

Now, with his soul back, Spike was picking up your dance like nothing had happened over the years. Like your heart was bright, and shiny and new. No one had bothered to look outside the house at you. You who had also changed and grown in ways similar and so very different from them. Always there. Dependable.

Enough.

“Spike, what are you doing?” you mumbled in an exasperated tone. “We have stuff to do. All those teeny-boppers in there need places to sleep with pillows and blankets. We aren’t in this store to fuck around.”

While you pushed a cart through the looted store to get things to return to the Summers’ house, he was messing with a small radio in the corner. Fiddling with the knobs even though you both knew there was no station anymore.

“Trying to find some bloody music, love.” Then he seemingly gave up and let his eyes rove around. “Aha!”

His small smile was disarming as he took quick strides in your direction to reach past your face to grab a small package off a shelf. He brought it up to face you while he scanned the back. A CD. 

You were going to fucking stake him. Here and now.

Quickly, he was back at the radio and starting the CD with a light hum. Rolling your eyes you turned on your heel to continue searching the store for anything everyone would need. Your mission was aborted as a larger hand grabbed your wrist firmly and tugged you back to Spike as the first bars of Bon Jovi’s ‘You Give Love a Bad Name’ started filtering through the speakers.

“Seriously William,” you intoned incredulously.

“What?” he asked with both dark eyebrows raised up to his hairline.

“That’s really enough.” You were now more upset over your aching heart than his refusal to help you search the store, as you had been a few minutes ago. And, unfortunately, you were an angry crier so you were trying to move away so as not to be caught.

But nothing really goes your way in these situations does it?

Spike had gripped both of your shoulders as you were turned back to face him, but that didn’t mean you had to look at him. You tensed up to seem more angrily-distant than you were, and prayed to whatever deity that this would be over soon.

“Okay Poppet, that’s it,” he began. “What is going on? We always find a way to have a bit of fun in the bleak. Remember? ‘Us outsiders have to stick together.’? But you’ve been avoiding me for a bit now, and just now you were angry. Bitterly angry.” 

Silence.

Another sigh from him, “It’s been like this since I came back. I know I did some things, and I have to earn forgiveness. But that’s why I got my soul? I thought you- I thought having a soul would-”

“Would what? Impress Buffy? Yeah, we all know that.” you cried out as the dam you had built completely shattered. Tear-filled eyes locked onto his, “‘Outsiders stick together’?? You left me. I was fine how things were. You loved her. You PICKED her. But at least I had you on the outside with me. Then you just left us. Me. And now you want to do this thing? Playing around on an important mission? Grabbing at me? Trying to dance to cliche rock songs? Making me- Feel. So. Much. Like it’s a game. . .”

Sobs were wracking you, and despite all you had said your body craved his for comfort. And he didn’t fail to tug you into his arms; clinging to you like you had said you were the one leaving.

“You’re right,” he muttered and you could feel the vibrations in his chest, the breath on your hair and his slight shaking as he teetered between gripping too tight and knowing his strength. “I did pick her.” 

You went to break free, but he just twined his arms a little tighter while one hand came up to cup the back of your head. “I picked her because she was unattainable, at first. The one I wanted, they were too good for me. They could escape this all if they just decided to walk away. I wasn’t going to be their chain to the horrors of the night. Then. . . Then Buffy was broken. Not quite human or whole. Like me, and I dove into it because the one I loved was tempting and pulling. But love isn’t about what’s best for you. It’s about them.”

Your sobs had died down to shaking breaths as you let yourself relax a bit. But not daring to hope.

“I’ve done terrible things. I didn’t want to be the terrible thing that happened to them. Then I made mistake after mistake to claw my way out of my infatuation. Something she, Buffy, said made me think. I could be a better man. And if I was, then- Then I may be a step closer to deserving the one I love. Getting this soul broke my mind a bit, but I found my way back. I thought I could do this right. Right by them. Start with the friendship we always had.”

“Them. . .”

“You. Always you. Even when loving you broke my heart.”

Now you shoved off his chest a bit and he let you. Hoping this was the thing that would mark your turning point. Knowing, one way or another, things would never be the same.

“I don’t think hearts break Spike,” The breathy words left you of their own volition. All your love, heartache and pain over the years coming to the surface. “Shattered things can only be broken once. But torn things can be mended again and again until it’s all scars and stitching.” A pause to catch your breath. “How can I know? I’m not like them. Any of them, let alone a remarkable, strong, beautiful slayer like Buffy. And now? Of all times, this is when this happens. Of course. The fucking apocalypse is practically here and-”

Truth be told, he had barely heard anything after you spoke of your torn heart. The love, and pain from that love, bleeding through to his own heart and soul. And now you were rambling. His thoughts were simultaneously racing and non-existent as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

Your words and breath were caught in your throat, eyes wide. But as his mouth pressed more insistently against your own all thoughts fled your brain. Your hands lifted to feather through the hair at the nape of his neck, and he groaned as his hand cupped your head again to pull you closer. 

Your lungs cried for relief and you slowly pulled away as he rested his forehead against yours.

Both of your eyes were closed as he spoke up, “I promise- No. I vow to never let your heart be torn again. To never leave you outside looking in alone. To always be there, in arms reach when you need me, love.” He took a deep breath as both of your eyes opened and locked onto one another’s again. Faintly thinking back to your rambles he went on, “You will always know. Know I love you. Cherish you. See only you. Choose you. And if this is the end. Of the world or just of our lives; I will find you. Time and time again. I vow to love you in this life and all the others we may have. I vow that I am yours. If you will be mine?”

A tear slid down his face, but his eyes only held truth.

“I always have been,” you said as you looked into your future. Your forever and always.

#Buffy The Vampire Slayer #spike #spike buffy the vampire slayer #spike x reader #a-z affection prompt oneshot #vows #angst

[coffeebeannate]

Nate Watches Things: A Saga

Or in this case, one thing. One thing that was far too long of a thing, but such a bizarre venture that I felt rather compelled to put an actual review of said thing together.

Why? Because I can and because others HAVE to experience this..this journey. A nice lil journey called Die Pfeiler der Macht/ A Dangerous Fortune. And I watched it solely because Luca looks cute in Victorian clothes, and I was intrigued by the gifs.

Curiosity has always been such a great human motivator, eh?

And..guys. I just. I don’t know what the 3-4 hours (it’s two movies, and I took a couple days to watch it) WERE, exactly, but they were..a thing? I know that it’s based on a book by Ken Follett and that this production is German. Despite being based in England. 

Oh, and Luca’s character Mickey Miranda, is uh, Spanish. Make of that what you will.

So the summary is this:

A shocking secret behind a young boys death leads to three generations of treachery in this breathtaking saga of love, power and revenge, set amid the wealth and decadence of Victorian England.

And no it does not do this thing justice whatsoever.

Review under the cut. It’s too long *again, two movies here*, and I took far too many screencaps of this absolute wtfery, and uh, it’s probably better suited for a real-time live blog but nah. You can have this instead.

Some images under the cut are NSFW because nefarious boning is a key point in this..thing.

SPOILERS. So many spoilers. This thing is a spoiler fest. The caps have a very obvious Luca bias, I know why we’re here everyone. Hehe. There’s also some triggering stuff in this thing, so be warned there too.

BEHOLD:

So, a point I want to make is that the costuming in this movie is LEGIT. If absolutely nothing else works? Note that the costuming absolutely does.

The opening credits are very nice, Luca’s very pretty, this cap serves purely to showcase that because I’m a very serious man doing a very serious review.

Pretty.

So the beginning is..confusing. We have a girl, Maisie Robinson. (Around 10-13 here?) Her father is very poor and it’s her and her two siblings. He works for a man who is part of our main characters, the Pilasters?  and they run this bank. The head of the bank commits suicide, since they’re having financial troubles and he cannot repay his workers. He pens a note to his young son *under 12 at this point*, Hugh. 

Hugh never finds out about this letter, but anyway. At the moment, it’s 1866. Maisie’s father was one of those employees. Destitute, he leaves Maisie to..raise her siblings, and goes to America.

We never hear from this man again.

Hugh goes to live with his aunt (Augusta/Augustina?), uncle Joseph, and cousins, Edward and Clara.

THEN IT’S 1877 (we jump ten years)

Maisie’s two siblings have died, and she has a daughter, Rachel now. Who is also dying. This movie is very keen on people dying. I’d also like to point out that there is like, endless plots all happening alongside one another, and it took me until mid-way into part two to even really grasp what the main plot is.

The movie has a LOT of bank talk as well. I cannot express this earnestly enough, there is SO MUCH bank chatter. SO MUCH. This thing does not have to be as long as it is but again, bank stuff.

Anyway, the one plot is that Maisie is from the poor area, she’s had a horrible life and has struggled from day one. She’s in a constant battle with Hugh, and they argue a lot. A lot. (They like each other, they met as kids, but they’re from very different worlds. Hugh has money, she doesn’t, but Hugh has suffered as well and basically it’s your normal class struggle social commentary thing).

Maisie and Hugh in 1866, as kids, after Maisie’s father left for America. This is the funeral for Hugh’s father. So that’s the theme I mean.

Anywho.

Back in 1877, this is Samuel *left*, Joseph *middle* and Edward. The Pilaster’s get marched into work like they’re freaking army Captain’s and not just rich ass bankers. Imagine saluting your CEO. At work. Outside of the military. WHERE IS THIS A THING? Maybe this was a thing in Victorian England I have no clue I’ve certainly never come across it in my studies. Ffs.

Anyway.

So while all this is going on, there’s this man that wants to marry Maisie. 

And his name is,

(That’s Rachel, Maisie’s daughter). Anyway, Solly here loves Maisie and wants to marry her. But Maisie loves Hugh, and neither of them realize this yet. Solly is a himbo and we mostly like him, but stay tuned because that doesn’t stick. Sorta. Depends on how-

Nevermind I’ll just keep going.

ANYWAY, more plot.

Here’s Edward again, doing drugs, being gay, and overall..useless. Edward is..Edward is kind of like a person who would make an interesting wall decoration. Fun enough to look at, but utterly freaking hopeless, and useless, and so dumb. Just so dumb. This character is given the substance of ash fault. Kinda like, only vaguely solid enough to be entertaining. Kinda.

I don’t know guys, BUT LOOK!

It’s his good old pal Mickey! And he’s slapped Edward awake out of his drug coma (okay he grabs his face and shakes him rather than slapping but given how much slapping happens in the rest of this movie I think I can be forgiven) and he has PLOTS.

Mostly it’s his dads plot, but it’s a plot. A very devious scheme and he needs our favourite wallpapers assistance!

(Sorry Edward, but it’s true)

So keeping in mind that the ‘theme’ of this movie is bone-and-soul crushing sadness paired with periods of intense chaos and insanity that  you never see coming, our plots continue to thicken.

What Mickey means here, is that Edward’s family denied Mickey’s father what he wanted *weapons deal*, and beat the crap out of Mickey in a carriage. But that’s fine that’s fine Mickey is not deterred! BECAUSE.

*sigh*

So.

OK.

This scene.

Remember what I said about how this movie goes from being incredibly boring to so off the walls bonkers without actually WARNING YOU that it is going to do this? Yeah.

Edward, you see, really does not ‘do’ women. He’s gay. He’s extremely gay. Edward’s mother wants him to marry Florence Stalworthy for idk rich people reasons.

So..Mickey. Uh. Mickey’s solution is..this.

What is this, you ask??

Fuck if I know.

Anyway, no, uhm. This is a brothel. So (not) pictured here (I can’t post the scene on tumblr guys we have a ban) is Edward on a couch across from mask-and-feathers MIckey and this tied down woman, with another woman who is not tied down. And this is Mickey..showing Edward..how to.have sex with women. Apparently. Sort of. His lesson falls very flat. It is not a good scene, Mickey’s ‘instructions’ get increasingly louder, and he at one point makes this noise that sounds like a Joker laugh.

It is...it’s something.

(Also note there’s some extremely uncomfortable, misogynistic name-calling on Mickey’s part here..so yeah).

Oh, and it doesn’t convince Edward. At all. IMAGINE.

Around all this time, the Hugh/Maisie/Solly plot is also ongoing. And that also encompasses bar fighting (bare knuckles boxing and wrestling I think? And gambling)

Hugh has gambling debt we’ll get back to this. (He’s also obsessed with getting Russian bonds into the bank, again, the banking plot losses me a LOT)

So meanwhile, Mickey meets up with Edward’s mother.

But why Edward’s mother, you ask??

Well. *sigh*. Something I didn’t mention earlier is that Mickey likes Ed’s mum. A lot. A lot a lot. Mickey wants to take that woman to town and then some, is a very basic way of me putting it and-

Fuck it. Mickey wants to bang Ed’s mum. BADLY.

(She’s not opposed either, at all)

So their little scheme here is that Ed’s mum wants Ed to take control of the bank, but with the father-in-law alive, that’s not going to happen. So they’re plotting to take down the next person in charge who would succeed said father in law, (Samuel) who is in a relationship with the secretary mentioned above, Michael.

Yes, another GODDAMNED PLOT.

(Samuel is fairly unpleasant like all of these people, so I don’t feel that bad for him. He also kinda treats Michael like garbage, and is called out for this by Joseph later in the movie)

So the scheme here is to get rid of the father-in-law, and get Ed married. Cake walk!

(Also, while ALL THIS is going on, Mickey’s got his own mini-plot about doing these things for his father, the weapons and stuff but we don’t actually find out about the main goal of that whole thing till the end, you’ll see)

Oh, and since we’ve not had a good dose of ‘WHAT THE FUCK’ lately, Solly proposes to Maisie with an honest-to-god Alice in Wonderland party.

Yeah.

Meet the Mad Hatter! He’s a guide, he says nothing. Other people are in costume too, but you know-I have enough caps as it is.

So anyway, Maisie and Solly get engaged, Maisie and Hugh meet up at some point and bang instead. 

And while that’s happening, Edward is convinced by Mickey to marry Florence.

So he does.

Lookit this shit faced smug ass grin.

(Also ahead is Samuel again, and Hugh)

BUT THEN the bank finds out about Hugh’s gambling debts. So he leaves. Taking his cousin Clara (Edward’s teenage sister-at her insistence) to the USA. And just like Maisie’s dad, another man abandons her for the States.

So the father in law is still alive, so! 

It’s murder time.

Perfect wedding time event yeah?

So Mickey murders the father-in-law. (He jumps on him, suffocates him with a pillow, gets caught by Augusta and then they do this..weird ‘tensely make the bed thing’)

Murdered.

And then, exactly five seconds or so later..

Nothing like some murder pre-boning with the dead guy two feet away amiright?

Anyway at this point I was just:

And yelling at my ceiling. Not pictured.

I was a Hannibal fan and I STILL went !?!?!?

END PART ONE.

Part two starts out in 1912, and then cuts back to 1882. So in this messy timeline, note it has been six years since part one. And Hugh is married now to Nora, an American singer, and Clara is older and pregnant. (Father is never determined, but he’s a married man and that’s why Clara didn’t stay)

SO the three of them are returning home. Maisie and Solly have a son, David, and Maisie is depressed and distant, so Solly is the one who spends all the time with David. He’s shown as a legit good dad and it’s quite cute watching them.

(The kids Hugh’s, btw, he and Maisie both know this, Hugh does not, it’s revealed dramatically later but we still have so many plots)

Edward and Florence are childless. Edward doesn’t sleep with her. Everyone knows this.

(At this point I kept asking myself when this would end, I cannot stress how LONG this thing feels at times)

So Hugh and Nora meet up with Maisie and Solly, and they chat and there’s more love plots, more bank plots and a masquerade party where at some point Maisie thinks a little girl at the party is Rachel (who died in the end of part one, sorry!) and there’s a fire and Maisie and Hugh make out and Nora and Solly are both upset and it’s a whole thing.

Samuel now does something of a side business that’s unspecified with Michael, and pregnant Clara is being persued by the only man who might be a good match for her (she’s not keen on getting married. But he’s also..really old.) PLOTS.

And Mickey and Augusta are..still a thing. And Edward being chlidless is becoming an issue. So what is the solution dear friends??

*BANGS HEAD INTO A WALL*

Why the fuck not.

Absolutely flawless! Eddie will NEVER notice.

SO with this plan in motion, Mickey sets out to seduce Florence, Eddie’s neglected wife. He starts in a church, and I have to admit, this one line he gives is quite funny.

“I don’t go to church.”

Cannot begin to imagine why.

Also, around this time is when we get the infamous scene about how he fcked the wives of the three men and then made the guys suck his dick one by one. I didn’t cap that since it’s in gif form, but yeah.

Hugh and Solly and Nora and Maisie are still having their love issues. And there is still bank stuff as all this is going down.

But while on his Florence quest, we see Mickey beat up a guy who was abusing a small boy, and Florence see’s him do this as well and:

He looks so baffled. 

‘Me? GOOD? I really don’t think so.”

She’s also holding a baby, and he gives the infant this face:

“Eugh, what is that?”

He also finds her in church again at some point and comes alongside her like this:

”Sup? Whatcha prayin’ about?”

Anyway, while doing all this, he’s still having some issues. He needs Eddie’s signature for a bank transfer (for his father, his father’s plot is STILL a THING) and so it is time to seduce someone ELSE. This time it’s Edward. This won’t be hard. Edward wants him so bad you could probably see it from fucking space.

Mickey is well aware of this.(I don’t think it’s one sided either, he looks at Edward all wide eyed half the time, but he’s so manipulative it’s hard to judge).

Actually me right now tbh.

So that’s this followed by the infamous gif set.

Edward takes him up on it.

‘Come along my dear there’s nefarious boning to be done’.

Absolutely vital screencap below (which is the most we get anyway and I didn’t cap the line about the freaking signature because fuck plots over nice images okay)

Vital

Anyway Edward gives him the bloody signature. And then Mickey goes along to talk to Augusta. But at this point Mickey is very much beginning to unravel. His goal seems to be more centralized to finishing whatever long ass convoluted job his father has been making him do for the last six years (possibly more tbh) and he’s sort of done with everything.

And Edward see’s this exchange. Le. Oof.

SO! IN BETWEEN ALL THIS. There’s some party where there’s drama and then basically Nora..willing gives up Hugh so he can be with Maisie and Solly just..I don’t even know, single dad for life and all. Edward knows that his family has basically been doing shit all around him, and Mickey STILL seduces Florence. He has her meet him outside that night at two am and they get together, but when he’s with her he kinda has these doubts but she wants him anyway so they bang.

Yeesh.

AFTER that there’s Edward again, because Edward knows shit is up, Mickey goes to a room to grab a bag and see’s Edward there. He tells Edward goodbye, but Edward pulls a gun. Mickey just...drops the bag, tells him to shoot. Edward doesn’t, instead he turns the gun on himself and then Mickey shoots himself in a chair.

Yeah.

DEATH! SADNESS! REMEMBER-THIS MOVIE LOVES DEAD PEOPLE~!

At some point in all this, Augusta goes to her daughter, Clara, apologies for being an absolutely evil mother for her entire life and then the movie sort of begins to wrap up.

Maisie and David were going to leave for the States together, but David wants to stay with Solly, who well DID raise him despite him being Hugh’s kid. So Maisie and Hugh are alone and David lives with Solly and the Pilaster bank has discovered the ACTUAL FREAKING PLOT OF MICKEY’S DAD AND THE ENTIRE BACKGROUND THING. Which was this:

THIS DIDN’T NEED TO BE ALMOST FOUR HOURS, GERMANY.

SO Hugh lets the mob inside. We don’t see what happens after that, but Augusta comes in to tell Joseph Edward shot himself.

Lots of sadness.

So the movie ends in 1912, with David and Hugh meeting up. David never saw Maisie again *she’s deceased now, as is Solly.* they talk, there is some moral lesson or something about love. The goddamned end.

OOF.

SO overall?

I don’t know.

It’s a movie. It has a script and plot and..it was put on screen? The costumes are legitimately amazing. They might be the best thing about this thing. But it REALLY feels like Ken really wanted to make a movie about banking, noticed that’d be boring and tried to make it spicy.

It’s so bizarre. So depressing. So many people are horrible. So many bad things happen. So much slapping, so much weirdness. There’s nothing happy in this thing. Not one. The so called ‘good’-ish ending falls flat amongst a sea of depression and I re-iterate, IT DOES NOT HAVE TO BE SO LONG.

I distinctly recall lots of clock watching at times, wondering how I could POSSIBLY have more to go. It then goes so completely off the rails that you just don’t know what is happening and it’s just WEIRD.

At times that weirdness makes it fun, but overall it’s really not great. I probably would never rewatch it, and I can say that it’s an uh, experience in movie-watching.

A good one? I don’t know. But an experience, none the less.

#a dangerous fortune #nate reviews things #nate reviewing #look don't expect coherency here ya'll this thing is A TRIP #long post #too many screenshots #am i legit posting this thing at quarter to four in the morning #yes because i dont want my drafts to eat it askjdnkas #i'll just rebagel later in the day if needed ok

[captainchrisstan]

My Leather Guy

Summary: Bucky has to make things right, even if it means losing you.

words: 1935

Warnings: none... a little bit of Smut... (but if you find any please let me know)

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Reader.

A/N: This was made with love for @saiyanprincessswanie​ !!! My prompt was “Nice ass” / “it´s all yours”

Hey guys! <3 my mother language is not English, so if there is any mistake please help me to improve. Also, my work is not allowed to be on other platforms. Just comment, like and reblog <3

Bucky kisses your lips for the last time to see you leave for the club stairs that lead straight to the rooms upstairs, with a sigh he turns around to see his best friend Steve and almost friend Tony at a table watching him expectantly.

Bucky knows their faces too well to know what they want answers to their questions, today would be the sixth time you've stayed with them in less than two weeks. The problem wasn't that you stayed, they loved you, the real problem was that you lied to your father who was also the leader of one of the New York City motorcycle clubs.

"I hope you got it right this time Bucky," Tony says as he brings his beer to his lips but stops halfway through. "That you stood in his driveway like a decent man" as the silence drags on Steve lets out a big sigh.

"He escaped out the window again?" Steve asks what Bucky nods to. "Bucky... I understand that you love her I went through the same thing with Natasha... the thing is we can't get into trouble now that they've agreed to ally themselves with us to corner the Hydra club"

"If it were up to me, I would have told his father by now." Bucky interrupts.

"Does her father beat her?" Tony asks, and the blonde looks at him expectantly.

"No! It's just that she doesn't want to disappoint him."

"Bucky, you're the best man in the club-"

"Steve I'm not saying that... It's because of his mother... since his mother died his dad has made sure he doesn't follow in his footsteps" Tony and Steve look expectantly at Bucky, waiting for answers. "That doesn't end up with a biker.”

"Oh God too late!" Tony says quickly as he grabs his leather jacket on the back of his chair and stands up. "Looks like the conversation is going to get sentimental so I'll see you tomorrow" and without further ado, Tony walks away from the door.

"Look Buck... if you want some advice... You'd better go to his father and tell him" Bucky opens his mouth to say something but Steve raises a hand "Let me finish please, Hydra has been up to our asses since they got to town, they have been trying to wipe out our business and theirs. If he finds out you're sneaking around with her daughter and goes crazy and finishes the deal; we'll be in danger, not just us as a club, but our partners as well"

A few minutes later Bucky thoughtfully climbs the stairs, what Steve was saying was true, he was putting the whole group, no, his family in danger with his selfishness and that could not continue to happen. When he got to the door of his room a soft humming could be heard through it, when he opened the door he found himself with y/n with his headphones lying on her stomach in bed with his back to the door, his pajama shorts barely covering his ass and he was wearing one of Bucky's t-shirts to sleep, closing the door to lean on it, Bucky simply watched his girlfriend and how much he was going to miss being with her once they told your father.

Feeling a change in the air y/n realizes that she is not alone, turning quickly in bed she sees her boyfriend leaning on the door, she smiles but her smile does not last long because of the look in Bucky's eyes. y/n knows that something is wrong.

"What's wrong, love?" she quickly gets out of bed to go to her boyfriend.

"We have to tell your father"  I knew that this day would come, I knew that the moment those words came out of Bucky's mouth their lives would have to go their separate ways forever. 

"Tomorrow we'll both go together, I promise," hugging Bucky around the neck and he's hugging her around the waist. "Would you kiss me?" one last time she thought 

Bucky's lips feel like feathers on the skin, they both know this could be goodbye and they would both make the most of it. Without rushing, they take off their clothes and throw them away so who knows which part of the room, when y/n's legs touch the bed he gently pushes it. Skin on skin meet and fireworks explode as the moaning fills every corner of the room.

In the large double bed, they try to calm their breaths, both have their heads full of possible scenarios of what could happen tomorrow, but in Bucky's head are the most tragic.

Little whispers of 'I love you' and 'I'll always be with you' fill the room until y/n's voice is interrupted by a yawn from her, Bucky puts one arm around her shoulders and draws her as close to his body as he can.

Bucky goes down the stairs with the little courage he has left in his body, when he sees the time on the wall clock he deduces that his father-in-law could be in the club's bar, without wasting any more time he goes to Steve to communicate his decision. This one is on the same table where he left it a few hours ago.

"Steve, I'm gonna go tell y/n's dad" Steve looks up from the documents to focus on Bucky.

"Give me 5 minutes and I can join you" with one hand on his shoulder Bucky stops his best friend.

"I don't think you understand me, Steve... I'll go alone," Steve looks at him not knowing what to do. It wasn't that they were afraid of Y/N's father, only that he was a man respected by many, almost a legend. "If I'm not back in three hours... you know what to do." Without saying anything else, Bucky hands Steve a sealed envelope with Y/N's name on it. Bucky always so dramatic thought Steve as he saw Bucky's figure coming out of the bar.

The road to the other side of New York was long and tense for Bucky, his Harley stopped just outside the Death and Co Bar as he took off his helmet hesitantly for a couple of seconds before grabbing what's left of his confidence and going in.

The place reeked of alcohol and cheap cigarettes, and the place was barely visible in the dim light of the tavern. In the distance, he could see a group of men in leather jackets with the symbol of the American flag on their backs. 

As he approached the group of men he could quickly make out the father of Y/n, with a soft cough by Bucky the men at the table stood still and quickly looked in Bucky's direction.

"But look who we have in this fucking place... Nothing more or less than the right hand of the famous captain", your father was looking bucky in the eye who wished he was 3 miles away from that place.

"I've come to talk to you, sir," Bucky mentally kicks himself, his voice must sound firm. "Alone." Without further ado, Jim "The King" stands up from the table with a head taller than Bucky. 

“Follow me”

As he leaves the bar Jim leans against the wall and pulls out a cigarette, Bucky is nervous, his hands are sweating and his breathing is labored.

"It's about my daughter, right?" Stunned Bucky doesn't know what to do or say so he just nods. "I've known all along," Bucky's soul leaves his body. "Ever since my Betty died and left me with the task of raising our daughter I always knew this day would come... I always knew you guys had something because Y/N is the spitting image of her mother, and she's not too quiet when she escapes out the window either" the latter brings a smile to Bucky's face. Jim takes his last breaths into the cigarette and drops it, putting it out with the sole of his shoes. "Your mother and I were doing the same thing you do... We were running away and lying to our parents... Come on son, let's go have some beers", without further ado Jim opens the door of the bar, Bucky perplexed, expecting everything but that, so he just follows him inside the establishment.

Two hours later Bucky finds himself saying goodbye to all the club members and heading for his bike, Jim is waiting for him at the door.

"Hey, son," unprepared Bucky feels like the right side of his face is hit with something, "This is just a precaution, okay?. If I see my daughter crying over you, the beating will be much bigger." When Bucky comes out of his trance he just nods and pats his shoulder. "Perfect!, have a good trip boy" the door of the place closes and Bucky throws a spit to throw the blood in his mouth, touching his jaw he realizes that Jim didn't manage to break anything, fortunately, but he won't be able to put the helmet on because of the swelling that is forming on his face. Was too good to be true

Upon entering the bar Bucky can see that the place is almost dead without counting Natasha who is cleaning the bar and Steve leaning on this flirting with her. 

"Shit Bucky I think you lost the fight man!" Natasha tries to hold back the laughter, but she can't and Steve just shakes his head.

"Yeah, anyway... I'll see you guys in a little bit" walking up the stairs to Bucky's rooms doesn't stop thinking about how well the situation turned out, about Jim's reaction that he didn't grow up and that now they practically had a free hand so they wouldn't be hiding like two teenagers.

"What the fuck happened to your face, Bucky?!" Bucky had unwittingly entered the room and found y/n at the edge of the bed, wiping her eyes.

"I've gone to talk to your dad" without more y/n gets out of bed and throws Bucky by his wrist to the bathroom of the room, when Bucky enters he can see his reflection in the mirror, his cheekbone was already taking a purple color and his eye was swelling more and more without counting with the little cut under his eye, with a pressure in the chest y/n makes Bucky sit in the toilet while she takes out the first aid kit. 

A few seconds later she finds herself delicately touching her boyfriend's face with a wet cotton ball to get the dried blood out. A little sobbing gets Bucky out of his trance and he realizes that he's screwed up, with his hands he touches his girlfriend's naked legs to somehow comfort her.

"I didn't want the three of us to talk in case it got too big, I just wanted to protect you." He whispers

"Bucky, he's my dad, he wouldn't hurt me and you know it.

"The situation could have gotten dangerous and you know it," bucky sighs, "I just want to make things right... besides, your dad already knew about us."

"What?!" y/n stops wiping Bucky's face and waits expectantly for an answer.

"He said you weren't very quiet going out the window.”

"Oh, God... What a shame" they both laugh and the atmosphere relaxes a bit.

"Does this mean I'm forgiven?"

"I'd have to think about it a little bit more" playing bucky up his hands and grabbing his girlfriend's ass through his pajama shorts.

“Nice ass”

“It’s all yours, baby”

#My Leather Guy #SaiyanPrincessSwanie 500 followers challenge #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #biker!bucky

[bakugouscentedcaramel]

🍋Wings and Showers 🍋

Hawks x reader smut babes, what a creative title.

Warnings: wing kink, it’s hawks smut y’all, basically shower handjob, wingjob?, dirty talking,

🍋~🍋~🍋~🍋~🍋~🍋~🍋~🍋~🍋~🍋~🍋

Hawks was surprising clean for a man who spent a chunk of his time eating chicken on rooftops. He was very meticulous about his appearance.

His hair and his wings especially.

Which is why you were rather surprised when hawks returned to your shared apartment covered in (what you hoped) was mud.

You’d have made a joke but your feathered husband looked rather upset and irritated.

When he saw you he sighed in relief,”I’m uh....I’m gonna need your help in the shower.” Hawks flashed you a charming smile, “I’ll keep my hands to myself, I promise.”

You snorted, “I can’t say the same.”

Hawks chuckled, feeling slightly better about the situation. You gave him a kind smile, it’s obvious he’s had a rough day, “I’ll help you. Don’t worry.”

“Thanks Chickadee.”

Somehow, Hawks had managed to step lightly enough to not trail whatever covered him. Once he was in the bathroom, his filthy clothes were shed, which you had taken to the washing machine.

Perhaps Hawks would prefer to replace his hero costume entirely but you’d rather not waste the money if there’s a chance to save it.

Plus, you wanted his jacket to keep, but that’s beside the point.

When you return to the bathroom your husband was already under the hot water, scrubbing his skin raw.

You started to strip when he spoke to you. “I hate feeling dirty.” He hissed through his teeth, “I dunno why. Always hated it.”

you stepped in and let the hot water roll over your skin. hawks paused when he felt your fingers start to rub circles into his skin. Your hands were gentle enough to make him sigh when you began to rub his shoulders. The winged hero pouted when you stopped your mini massage to grab a bottle of soap.

“Wanna tell me what happened?” You squirted a generous amount of shampoo in your hands and began to wash his blonde hair.

He began to tell you how a mud villain was causing problems for people on the streets. The villain was spouting something about returning the world to itself when hawks had tried to swoop in from above. It was purely by bad luck that the mud villain looked up and retaliated.

The guy was taken down but hawks was beyond filthy.

“Can you believe it? What kinda quirk is mud anyway? All he’s gonna do is stain clothes and break washing machines,” your feathered husband grumbled bitterly.

You laughed, “if we’re lucky, neither of those will happen.”

Satisfied with the work on his hair, you allowed him to step under the shower head to rise. While he did, you grabbed the bottle of liquid soap. “Especially made for feathers!” Read the bottle, a notion you were convinced was a lie. Hawks, however, swears up and down his feathers remain strong yet soft because of it.

“Hey (Y/N), you....uh....thank you. For this.” Hawks pointed to all of him and then the dirty shower floor.

“Don’t worry about it birdbrain.” You giggled, when he stuck out his bottom lip in a mock pout. “Oh hush, now stretch out your left wing, I’m gonna clean it.”

“Oh, may as well sit down with a good book then.” Hawks unfolded his crimson wing as far as he could. Despite the spacious shower, the flying hero couldn’t fully pull out his wing.

You’d have to take your time, and tackle one wing at a time.

Bottle of soap in hand, you had gotten to work. Starting at the outer tip, you figured it was best to work your way inward. As your hands gently scrubbed and straighten his red feathers, your husband remained surprising quiet.

“If I’m hurting you, let me know ok?” You spoke up. Truth be told, you rarely touched hawks’ wings. They were a part of his soul as much as his body.

Hawks did nothing but nod, and your worry had only gotten worse. As if sensing your anxiety, he turned his handsome face to look at you, “don’t worry. I’m ok. Just tired.” He eased your worries when he flashed another dazzling smile.

You couldn’t help but smile back and return to your work. You had gotten about halfway through his left wing when you had noticed how tense he was.

“Are you sure your alright? I’m not being rough right?” Your words snapped his out of whatever haze he was in.

“N-no! Your doing fine chickadee. Gentle as a lamb.” He said almost too cheerfully.

You sighed, before brushing your palm the length of the radial of his wing.

Your husband jerked, a moan slipped passed his lips.

“Hawks..”

“Keep going! Please don’t stop.” He sounded desperate, on the edge of something.

Suddenly, your mind clicked.

Oh.

OH.

With less apprehension, you continued. Though, sometimes you would fiddle with one feather, and sometimes your hand would grasp the bone where feathers met body.

His moans were picking up volume. His wings twitched and trembled as your ministrations continued. You reached the joint, where the feathers were smaller than your pinky finger.

One touch was all it took and he was finished. All it took was running your fingers at the joint and Hawks came undone, seed spilling into the drain. He tensed as he came, a whimper of your name on his lips.

When hawks came down from his high, he looked at you, embarrassed, “I uh....truth be told....didn’t know that could happen.” He sheepishly smiled at you, “I’m uh...I think I’m clean enough.”

You smirked, “uh uh, I still need to clean your right wing.” The shower was still warm, and you enjoyed that display a little too much.

Hawks swallowed before folding his left and straightening his right. It’s clear he enjoyed your touches, however he was obviously embarrassed by it. Almost immediately his wings started to tremble when you began again.

You took longer, just to play with him. His moans were heavenly as you combed and cleaned his feathers. This time, it didn’t take as long to have him cumming again. You hadn’t even gotten to the joint when he released. His ecstasy was more powerful this time as his second orgasm overtook his form.

“I’m, oh fuck, i’m good chickadee. I’m finished.” He breathed, leaning forward on the marble wall with his arms.

“I’m not done, still gotta finish the other half.” Your fingers trailed down his radial and he shivered.

“Ah...have fun then.” He swallowed.

Oh you intended too.

When you continued, Hawks yelped. Was he becoming sensitive?

You tweaked and straightened his feathers as you ran them under soap and water. His moans and whimpers hadn’t died down. The winged hero looked weak, especially as you neared the joint again. Your nails combed through the crimson feathers, craving another orgasm from your dear husband. He was nearing his end, but you were running out of wing.

A brilliant idea popped into your mind.

You slowed down, keeping hawks on the edge of bliss. As you still cleaned his remaining wing, you made sure to keep him wound up and begging for you.

“Oh fuck, Baby.” He gasped as your hands slowly scrubbed the joint. He rarely called you something like that. Hawks was truly desperate for release.

You hummed as you finished, letting the warm water wash away the soap. A whimper from hawks put another smile on your face.

So you wrapped an arm around his middle and grasped his hard cock in your hands.

“AH! Fuck!” He cried out, jumping slightly. You stroked him lightly as he swore. Your other hand had begun to weave it’s way through his feathers.

You couldn’t see it, but you could picture his face. Eyes rolled back, face flushed, begging for release.

“Baby I’m...oh fuck...I’m so close.” He whined, your strokes picked up the pace, paying special attention to his weak points. You leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “am I making you feel good little bird?” Your lips were as his neck as you continued to speak. “You look so hot when you cum for me. How does it feel? To have finished before I even touched you properly.”

Hawks moaned desperately at your words, “oh god (Y/N).”

He cam again. Muscles tensed, head thrown back, mouth open in a silent scream. You stroked him through his euphoria, prolonging his high. Thank yous spilt from his mouth like the drops on the shower floor.

Your husband was truly spent, feeling almost boneless when he collapsed into your arms.

“You did so good my hawk.” You sweetly kissed him and he hummed in appreciation.

The two of you had dried off the best you could, and retreated to the warm bed.

He head was on your chest when you two fell asleep.

Once you woke up again, he was kissing your face, ready to return the favor for the shower.

-------------

Ya seriously need to open your own blog darlin' imma send all my followers to flood yo inbox with love until you do

EERYONE GO SHOW @awkward-tension SOME LOVE FJDJDJDJ

#valvent #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #mha imagines #mha x reader #bnha #submission #hawks lemon #hawks x reader #🍋 #lemon #n/s/f/w

[vitiatasxinficit]

Come Home Part One

@hi-its-teamfreewill @whattheciel

There is a fear that Sebastian harbors. It resides deep down, in the dark corners of his soul nestled up with the demon that prowls within, the thing capable of the worst. 

A fear born from accomplishing that which they had fought and cried and bled to do. To bring Vittoria home. It was now, a matter of waiting. It could be any second. Any day now, and he’d hear her voice and while that filled him with something akin to joy, eagerness, a restlessness that made him anxious, it came burdened with a fear. 

It was brought to bear as Sebastian moved quietly about the Estate. He was headed for the apple tree outside. He couldn’t find his angel and as habits would predict, he should be outside at the apple tree. Waiting for him. 

As he passed by the large windows, he stopped for a glance. One of the many things he enjoyed doing. Stopping to watch the angel just...be. 

Except he wasn’t there. 

His eyebrows furrowed, disgruntled and now somewhat concerned. He changed course and scoured the entire estate. Why didn’t he look, however, in the one place he saved for last.

He approached her room with caution. He had not entered since the day that he laid her body there. Blue eyes seemingly forever closed and he had fell at the feet of her lifeless body and broke in a way that he had never done before. 

Sure enough, there he found him. He was busy tidying up. He’d brought in fresh flowers and opened up the curtains and when he did enter, Castiel looked up, surprisingly startled. 

Sebastian’s mind is clever, but it can also play tricks on him. It was sharp, and knew every detail, especially when focused on Castiel. He knows that surprise. Labels it immediately. This was not a space he often occupied even when she was alive. They would disappear into the room with her secrets and spells and potions and stories of a world Castiel didn’t know. 

Was he ever banned from entering? No. But he’d knew to respect them. He’d been the last to join their little family and he wouldn’t dare impose himself on their happiness. 

Perhaps that is why Castiel was startled to see him there. Perhaps he didn’t belong. 

Still, auburn eyes look over the room with curiosity before landing on Cas. 

        “You’ve been quiet all day, I had wondered what you were doing.” 

       “I’m ready for her to come home.” 

His look of pleasant happiness at the idea of her returning sparked the thought. Then his look of distress. 

       “What if she doesn’t remember anything? What if she doesn’t remember us...me? What if it isn’t the same Sebastian I’m--” 

       “Worrying for no reason.” 

He blew out an even breath, eyebrows raised. “She’s coming home. Perhaps you should brace yourself so she doesn’t crack one of your ribs in a hug.” 

He almost pout should’ve eased him but it did not. Because for certain their reunion would be glorious. These two had defied the odds before. They’d died for one another, stuck together so that they’ve survived and made a home together.

Nothing can trump such a relationship. 

Not even Sebastian.

The fear took root at that. 

A fear that upon her return, what had become of himself and Cas would fall aside for Castiel being reunited with her. He could almost see it. How they would fall back into their routine. Their love had nothing on their history. 

He excused himself on the premise that he too, needed to begin preparations for her return home. That delighted Cas, who promised to join him as soon as he was done. 

That night had been long and full of doubt. And he wrestled with those thoughts alone in bed. Only because he chose not to occupy the day bed Cas insisted on sleeping in, in case she turned up during the night. 

Two months passed. 

In early March, on a windy warm day, Sebastian was tucking roses into a vase to place on the large dining table when a voice brought him out of his revere and thoughts. 

       “You always had an eye for such things. I once thought that was silly but I can not tell you how much I missed it.” 

Laying eyes on her, in all her glory, was a flooring thing. The vase rocked as he released it, threatening to tip over and fall to the floor but settling itself, her laugh rang through the room as she found herself swallowed up in a hug. 

       “I didn’t know you were such the hugger Sebastian.  You’ve changed.” 

      “Well it’s not every day you have to lose someone, now is it?” he grumbled, breathing her in. 

       “I know. I’m sorry. Sebastian?” 

He’d grit his teeth and closed his eyes against the way his chest caved, saved from being called out for being on the brink of perhaps almost maybe tears, by the noise Castiel made when he entered the room.

        “Sebastian the crystal in her room is missing and she needs that to get--” 

He released her in time for sure. The way they collided, years worth of happiness and fears and love and need seemed to blossom in the way they wrapped around one another. Tears came to her eyes, both of them as they collided to the floor. Their laughter mixed with sobs filled the air and despite the warm smile on his face as he quietly exited the room, Sebastian left with only one thought.

His worst nightmare would surely enough be reality. 

The morning after saw a bit of normalcy return. He began the morning with the idea of breakfast, sleeves rolled up, arms deep in pancake batter when he sensed more than saw Castiel sleepily wander in. He looked like he wrestled with a tiger and was just waking from a coma and it saw Sebastian smile, a quirk of his lips at the messy haired angel who padded his way over, peering at the beginnings of a delicious breakfast. 

He forgot, temporarily about the second set of footsteps as he trapped Castiel against the counter and leaned in. A normal morning for them was Castiel talking about the new flowers outside, or wanting to drag Sebastian to some new place he’d discovered on the estate grounds while Sebastian either tried to finish making breakfast, or his lips along his skin in reverent sweet kisses.

This morning, Castiel in pure awkward nature attempted to squirm and shy away but Sebastian would have none of it. Cute how he was still shy around the demon, as it were. Sebastian captured his lips a kiss that was pure hunger and love and need. He stripped off the gloves, content to let his work wait until he heard her clear her throat and pulled back to look behind him.

Vittoria looked like she couldn’t smirk any wider as she watched them, far more put together than Castiel. 

      “Oh don’t stop on my account. I mean I heard but I wanted to see for myself--” 

Castiel wriggled away from him and he let him go. 

      “I’m going to take Vittoria to the waterfall, do you want to come?” 

His lips remained sealed for a moment longer before he replied smoothly, “Go ahead. By the time you return, I’ll have finished breakfast. You two will work up quite the appetite.” 

Castiel didn’t seem at all content with the idea of Sebastian remaining behind but with a soft nudge toward the door from the demon himself, they retreated to their rooms and then waved goodbye as they headed out the door. 

Months rolled by in the same fashion. Saw that the Knight of Hell withdrawing completely almost. It led to arguments between the two, which would lead to Castiel stealing away to Vittoria’s room to not be seen for hours or even once, days. 

He’d rather push him away than say goodbye. 

Sebastian was leaving. He didn’t want to say it, goodbye. Those words would hurt him. Before the incident, before Vittoria’s death they had once meant nothing to him. He felt nothing. But now, Hell forgive him, he felt everything. So perhaps it was time to return. Vittoria was back, the job was done. 

The afternoon had seen to a nasty fight in the household. One that shook Vittoria in a way she hadn’t felt since she had died. Her boys were so angry and it was distressing. She couldn’t figure out what was happening. How was it that now, after her resurrection, was her home falling apart. 

      “It wasn’t like you helped!”

      “You wouldn’t let me! You were too scared but I’m just as badass as you!”

       “Yeah right, tripping over your own feet is scary? You’re a pile of feathers, just go back home or did you not fit in there either?” 

       “Well, go back Hell, cause I don’t want you here.”

The air in the room seemed to shift, and Vittoria, content to allow her boys to fight this one out, was on her feet in seconds.

       “Now wait, don’t we think we need to talk this out--”

Sebastian’s face seemed to fall, smooth out like glass and Vittoria’s heart plummeted to her stomach. “No! Sebastian wait a second, hold on you two stop it right now! Sebastian turn them back ON!” 

Castiel’s chest hurt. It ached. Words fell from the same lips that used to always promise love and protection and acceptance and now they spewed poison and ....it just fucking hurt. 

       “Yeah run away but turning your stupid humanity off. At least I had the balls to live when she died but you run every chance you get! So run now!” 

It was like the air was hot passing in and out of lungs so rapidly, full of anger and a pain that was slicing through him hot and burning away at rational thought. 

Vittoria watched as Sebastian reached over onto the counter to retrieve his gloves and slowly slid them on.

         “I shall.”

The look, Vittoria had seen it before. It was the old Sebastian. Aurburn eyes glittered. In a flutter of black feathers and ashes, he was gone.

[blue-honeycomb]

Quiet Devotion 4 [Hawks x Reader]

I'll edit this at a later date...

Summary: Part 4 of the 'Quiet Devotion' series… Somehow this story's managed to wring yet another part out of me. What am I doing with my life?

Reader Details: Emotional, humble, loyal, introspective, independent.

Quirk: Life Fiber (A.K.A Soul Silk).

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

---

---

Six Years Ago

---

Fast doesn't even begin to cover the sheer speed the winged hero is capable of, and coupled with his reaction time and environmental awareness he seems down right inhuman at times. As far as you can tell there are few skills he's incapable of executing mid-combat and you find it all the more admiral that a considerable amount of that talent is focused on support and rescue work. It says much for his character that life takes precedence over the promise of glory

Memories of darkness and pain nip harshly at the back of your mind, the fear that'd overcome you when the car fire had finally died out was printed red on the backs of your eyelids. You can still smell the stench of burning gasoline and the heavy tinge of sweet iron, the feel of sand in your hair.

You dream of it sometimes, even a year later. You don't usually get back to sleep afterwards either, despite the tear inducing exhaustion riping painfully though your body. Instead you pull up the 24/7 Hero News website and hope that you'll catch a glimpse of red feathers flashing across the screen, hear that smooth, masculine voice quipping at his comrades, snarking at his opponents.

Anything to make you feel safe again. Anything to remind yourself that the dark of your room is only temporary, that the blankets tucked tightly (too tightly, always too tightly) around you are soft and pliant under your hands.

The news plays in the background as you finish washing the night's dishes, reporters droning on about Hawk's exploits in a seemingly endless stream of praise and condescension. Rapidly cooling water drips down the front of the kitchen sink and soaks the front of your shirt despite your best efforts, and you take a moment to unstick the cloth from your skin with water-wrinkled fingers.

The fabric is sopping in some places still, heavy and discolored with dish water despite the wringing you give it. The rain outside seems to somehow add to that feeling of dampness despite you having not been outside all day, the pitter-patter of icy droplets battering your window like icecubes caressing your spine.

It's as you lament the condition of your clothes and the weather that the beginnings of a though begins to take root in your mind.

'If only my clothes were made from my quirk.' You thought exasperatedly, not for the first time, while entering the livingroom to watch the rest of the report before you had to do laundry. 'Then I'd never have to worry about wet clothes again.'

On the news Hawks stands before the cameras with his trademark devil-may-care smile on his lips, eyes half-lidded and entire hero persona picture perfect but for the way his clothes seem to sag and darken unevenly from the rain. A more aggressive reporter manages to sneak in a baiting question about the teenager's glaring inexperience in the field and the winged hero quips back in response, water dripping from the tips of his long deflated hair.

He looks miserable standing in the rain, the bright colors so characteristic of him dulled and darkened by the gray overcast, by the rain soaking him to the bone. Even as he's smiling you can tell it doesn't reach his eyes, barely even manages to fully form on his lips as question after intrusive question is hurled at him from the hoard of intent faces. You don't miss the way he glanced to the side occasionally, towards a rail thin man standing quietly beside him, meeting the teen's gaze every time with a narrow-eyed stare.

You don't think you've ever seen Hawks so unhappy before. Not on the battle field with hellfire raining down around him, nor any of his interviews with a panel of venomous snakes breathing down his back. Not even when he'd misstepped during his first solo multi-villian battle and had more than half of his left wing exploded right off his back.

No. You'd never seen him looking so miserable before and more than anything that quiet discontent in his eyes racked your soul with a sad, profound longing. Without conscious thought the tips of your fingers begun to warm and turn black, dark roots creeping up the veins in your fingers and fading at the knuckles. Moments later the beginnings of your silk spilling forth onto your lap and latching onto your pant legs catches your attention.

It did that from time to time when you got overly emotional. Frankly, the lack of control was embarrassing and never failed to remind you of why you were never able to train it past its current potential. Your doctor had said it was nothing to worry about though, and that you could maintain a normal life even with the occasional accident.

You'd thought about going to a quirk specialist shortly after you'd hit your current limit, but ultimately decided against it when you caught sight of the price tag attached to each visit. You reasoned that even if you managed to start producing more silk there'd be little use for it besides having readily available materials on hand if you ever felt the need to sew. So you dropped the matter entirely and carried on with your life.

Until a year ago, that is, when your whole world came crashing down around you.

You quickly shake those thoughts away, instead focusing on detaching the silk from your clothes before they can weave into the fabric they're touching. Yet another oddity you've had to learn the hard way. For the first twenty or so seconds before it cools and solidifies, the silk will try to latch onto any available surface and meld to it. Honestly, it was more annoying than anything and sometimes you regretted not being able to get it checked out by a specialist.

It took a few moments but you eventually managed to get the silk separated into their individual strains. They're each around ten inches long, though some had managed to stick together at the ends to more than double their length.

Exasperated, you pluck up the longest of the bunch with the tips of your darkened fingers, holding it before you with a frown. The black strands remain stuck together and you knew from experience they'd now be impossible to disconnect.

The flash of red on the television catches your attention for a moment and your sight blurs as it attempts to refocus. In that brief second, however, the black of your silk melded seamlessly into the darkened cloth of Hawk's soaked jacket and undershirt. In that exact moment, the quiet thought came to your mind.

'My quirk has never been useful to me. But maybe, with enough patience and effort, it can be of use to someone who deserves it more than anyone.'

And so begun the trials of your labor. The physical manifestation of your unspoken devotion.

---

Present Day

--

Hawks wasn't sure what expression had managed to slip past his usually perfect control, but whatever it was must have been fearsome indeed because the young researcher before him was sweating bullets beside his mentor. Said mentor was glancing disappointedly at his assistant and had yet to step in, instead opting to shake his head and cross his arms with quiet exasperation.

"So." Hawks begun in a slow drawl, still smiling but for the way his eyes narrowed. "We're just throwing civilian names into hero politics now are we?" The assistant lowered his head, but remained silent. "Making sure to break all those confidential clauses, huh? I've got to admire your spirit though. Go big or go home is the name of the game in this industry, after all." The winged hero clapped a hand over the other's shoulder, making sure to look him right in the eye as he finished. "How's it feel to be the uncontested winner?"

The assistant took a deep, fortifying breath before finally speaking. "I got carried away. My actions were a direct violation of Proper Hero Agency Conduct and I understand there will be repercussions. I-" The young man pauses again, almost breaking eye contact but the hand tightening on his shoulder quickly made him reconsider. "I let my pride get in the way of proper procedure and it's potentially put a civilian in danger." The assistant grit his teeth and closed his eyes. "I didn't win anything. I fucked up. Knew it the moment their name came out of my mouth."

There was a tense silence before Hawks himself broke it with a loud, exaggerated sigh. "It can't be helped I guess. Chicks gotta break a few eggs before they can grow after all." Everyone pointedly ignore the fact the Hawks was only a few years older than the assistant. Most of all the assistant.

The winged hero threw his head back, letting his entire posture slump and his face crumple into an irritated frown. "They're probably having a heart attack right now."

--

You were panicking. Inwardly, for the time being, but you weren't too far from having a total breakdown. For three hours your phone has been blowing up with an unknown number of texts and calls, half of them demanding your compliance and the other your service, all of them wanting your attention. None of them were making much sense.

The bit about various hero agencies wanting you to work for them was clear, what wasn't though was the why in this situation? The only thing you could think of was the uniform you'd given Hawks (you were well aware you'd probably been on camera the entire time you'd been near Hawk's agency), but such things were dime a dozen in the hero industry and you didn't believe for a moment Endeavor's agency was hurting for costume designers.

The next thing you could think would prompt this response was that there was something about your quirk you were unaware of. Something, apparently, heros deemed valuable enough to look for. What it was you weren't sure, but you knew enough about yourself to know your quirk, while fairly simplistic, was still an unknown to you in many regards.

Still, the sudden influx of unexpected messages was stressful enough. Add that to the fact most of them were from distinguished hero agencies with members that could literally demolish mountains and you were feeling more than a little pressured. Even a little frightened by some of the more demanding messages you'd managed to glimpse before retreating to the other side of the workshop.

You could barely move your furniture across the room most days, what could you do if the likes of Best Jeanist or Gang Orca decided to pay you an unexpected visit?

Okay, that was the panic talking. Not only was that scenario completely illogical, the jab at Gang Orca for having a stereotypical villian aesthetic was uncalled for. Time to recenter yourself and get some much needed fresh air into your lungs before you start accusing All Might of fraud or some such nonsense.

It takes a few minutes to get the muscles in your back to loosen and your mind to stop spitting out half-coherent worst case scenarios, but you manage with a few intense rounds of breathing exercises. By the end of the ordeal you're exhausted, even a little sore from the lack of air before hand. You're functioning again though, and that's what matters.

Now in better control of your thoughts the most obvious solution to your current predicament comes to you with little prompting. You don't even hesitate. There is not a single doubt in your mind as to what you must do.

This is your chance to finally pay back the man you owe your life too. This may very well be the only chance you'll ever get and you've learned that life is far too short to squander the moments that matter.

Your slip on your coat and gloves, making a few last minute adjustments around the shop before stepping out the door and locking up behind you. With your purse on your shoulder and your eyes lit with hopeful determination you walk out into the world with renewed purpose.

You leave the phone.

Nothing they have to offer matters. It never has and you doubt it ever will. They could offer you jewels and they'd collect dust, the world and it'd keep on spinning. They could grant you eternal life and you'd have given it up in a heartbeat for this one chance.

He's the only one that matters. The only one whose attention means something.

He is your priority. He is your only priority.

#Takami Keigo #Takami Keigo x Reader #Hawks #Hawks x Reader #BNHA

[katsukikitten]

End of Allmight

A/N lol yall I'm sorry. This wrote itself COLLEGE AU, SECOND YEAR, 18+

You relish the steam of your second scalding shower of the day. Trying to turn the handle further but to avail.

The knob threatens to rip itself from the piping with a groan causing you to stop.

"Fuck you too then." You hiss. Damning the day you've had thus far, praying it does not get worse.

Oh but does it get worse.

It all started this morning with your hero apprenticeship, sure in the end you snagged the villain.

But not before getting your ass handed to you first. Your bruises and cuts scream at the running water as you lather suds across them. Sure to remove any residual sludge from your calves and ankles.

Considering you were dumb enough to play into the trap the villain set up of immobilizing tar. The villain's final blow was intended for you but the hero you were shadowing took the hit full force.

Activating your brute rage to break free of your constraint, snatching the villain in under ten seconds.

You scrub harder as you damn yourself for not acting sooner.

And to top it all off you had gotten into a huge fight with your crush.

A fight that had earned you both a few weeks of house arrest.

Bakugou was in a sour mood when you got home, somehow more sour than you as he shoved you out of the way of the fridge with no remorse.

Usually you could tolerate and hell even understand his crass nature but today was not the fucking day.

You grab onto the fridge door that he is holding with a death grip and slam it shut. Now the only sound in the once loud kitchen of young adults was the rattling of glass.

"What the FUCK is your problem?!" Your voice breaking the deafening silence, "Didn't you fucking see me there?"

He doesn't answer, instead he stares at his distorted reflection in the stainless steel door with a harsh grimace. Kissable lips pulled ever south. His lack of response sets you off faster than the explosions skittering down his spine.

"Oh so you're fucking deaf now too huh?" All of the day's agitation finding a dangerous outlet as you pull your fist back. "Well hear this, cuck."

Your fist connects with his solid jaw as he makes no effort to move. He slides halfway across the kitchen before he turns to face you.

Spitting blood onto innocent counter tops as a bruise develops like a negative slide on his jaw as he lunges.

Much too quickly for you as its powered by his quirk sending you through the kitchen wall, aggravating your wounds.

You break free of his grip, swinging hard but he snatches your fist, holding you still as the skin of his left fist hisses.

A hiss that crescendos much like the kettle on the stove and your nostrils are filled with that all too familiar scent of burning sugar. You snarl using his grip to your advantage as you twist your body, bringing with it your left foot connecting hard in the already blossomed bruise.

He spits crimson again, flashing you his bloodied teeth with a manic, malice filled smile, he tilts his head adding to the effect of intimidation.

Though it is lost on your now.

"You're fucking dead." He growls with his smile as he lunges for you.

"Shit! Someone get Eji!" Denki shouts from the gaping hole, "LIKE NOW!"

Not that Kirishima could stop the two of you with force per say but he was damn good with words.

The two of you exchange punch after breath stealing punch, that seem to break the sound barrier. Decorating the other with their built up frustrations that were overly due to be released.

You pin him and he stares up at you with heated blood red eyes something flashes in them that makes you hesitate before he flips you faster than you can blink.

He slams your shoulders against the ground again for extra measure, his ash blonde hair almost falling over his eyes.

Eyes that no longer have explosive rage, eyes that look more like dull pennies in a wishing well that was long forgotten.

You reach up tenderly, seeing the pain buried so deep, to slide your thumb across his cheek. Lips parted to ask if he is alright as his iris seems to blur.

But it never comes.

"Bakugou! Y/N!" Kiri rushes forward half dressed with a worried Mina staring out of the hole of the dorm.

"What's happening?" He places his hand onto Bakugou's shoulder breaking the spell.

The rage floods back into his eyes as he bucks Kirishima's hand off of him. Standing quickly.

"Nothing is fucking wrong. Just a dumb ass extra was in my way." He muscles past his friend adding to his venom his signature tsk

You clench your jaw replaying it all in your head over and over.

Hyper fixated on the memory of his eyes looking down on you, with what you could have sworn were growing tears.

Something bangs against the wall causing your toiletries to rattle on the tiled shelf pulling you back into the present.

Once, twice, three times before shards of tile are scattered at your feet littering the floor with even more bad luck.

All followed by a deep grunt and your mind instantly thinks of Mina's little comment from the last girls night.

"Uugghhh ladies I'm telling you shower sex with Kiri is the best. He hits me agaisnt the titles soooooo hard. Aaaahhh"

Furiously you snap the water off wrapping yourself in nothing but a towel and deep seeded rage.

The towel threatens to expose your tits but you readjust and make an inappropriate dress out of white cotton as you stomp to the entrance of the next set of showers.

Rare tears threaten to drip onto his cheeks. He let's out labored and heavy breaths as his mind races. Staring at the blue screen illuminating the darkness of the bathrooms. The title of the article that just happens to be trending even years later.

*"End of Allmight?"*

He did this.

He caused the downfall of one of the greatest heroes of all time and all because he was too weak to save himself.

He snaps his phone in half, the innerworkings splinter into the air dusting the floor before he sends the pieces into the wall where the phone some how obliterates further.

He huffs as he reaches over his head pulling his shirt from him in a heated rage. Bruises flower over his ribs, sternum and any other place your powerful fist happened to land.

And all he can think about is how close you had made him break.

All with your delicate hand reaching out to comfort him over something he didn't even know he was still feeling.

That was until now.

Steam fills the bathroom but he does not undress further, leaving his sculpted body in nothing but a pair of black boxers as he paces the room like a caged animal.

He will do anything to chase away the threat of his tears, fists itching to destroy again despite what it may cost him.

He punches the cool tiles, once, twice, three times before he cracks the titles, fist sliced from the shards of porcelain as blood trickles over his finger. He pulls at the fabric of his boxers freeing himself as he stands under the steaming stream of water.

He slams his fist again, letting out another grunt letting the water wash over his sore, tired muscles.

The tears threaten again.

"Oi!" You call out into the bathroom, entering with out a care that you could witness something you cannot be unseen, "What the fuck are you...."

But your question dies in your throat as you see Katsuki looking over his Godly shoulder with those eyes again.

Dull, worn brick instead of burning hot scarlet.

The world seems to fade away with your anger as you approach despite the narrowing of his eyes.

"What the fuck are you doing in the men's showers?" It should come out as a dark growl but his voice threatens to break at the end. If you weren't ignorant to the situation before you sure as hell were now.

You'd never heard his voice falter and so you got closer.

So close you were getting splashed by the spray hitting his reddening skin from the heat.

You press your hand to his opposite cheek, sure to be gentle with the bruise as you turn him to face you. His eyes well with unshed tears.

Tears he has never allowed himself the luxury of.

"Katuski." You say so painfully, as if your heart were breaking in two at the mere sight of him.

And it was.

Breaking over the fact that you let this go so unnoticed after you thought his fight with Deku eased his pain.

In your heart of hearts you knew better. You saw the small signs build up over the last few years but turned a blind eye with every nasty comment you knew he did not mean.

With every harsh glare or shove he sent someone's way.

But mostly it broke over the fact that there wasn't a soul he could confide the vulnerability of his tears in.

Not even himself.

He studies you with quickly blurring eyes, practically hearing the snap in your chest as you reach out to him.

Damn you for using his first name, damn you for using that tone.

Please Kamisama use your knife of a tongue on him again.

Like you had in the kitchen, like you had just a few moments ago.

But Bakugou Katsuki's prayers go unanswered.

Your own set of tears begin to swim in your mesmerizing eyes, a tear catching in your lashes as you blink furiously, voice almost shaking as you speak.

"I..I'm here." And your fingers squeeze so softly and the pad of your thumb swipes so gently that all he can do is damn you.

Damn you as you send him over the edge in the opposite direction of what he's always imagined for you two as his tears slip down his cheeks.

He wraps his arms around you so tightly that you feel his deadly fingers crush blood vessels. He pulls you into the stream of hot water as he buries his face into your hair and throat.

He cannot stop himself as hard as he tries as the sobs rack through his body.

Shaking as he grips tighter onto you, clinging to his last visage of normalcy he thought he had.

Your arms wrap around him, one hand soothing his drenched hair while the other feathers over his shoulders and spin. All the while you whisper.

"I'm here Katsuki. I'm here."

After a few moments he let's out a shaking sigh.

"I did it." His lips move against your throat, "I...I ended All Might."

"What? No..."

"I did." He snarls through gritted teeth, lips still moving agaisnt flushed skin, "I was too stupid!! Too weak....too weak to do anything but get captured by a band of fucking fools."

A few stray tears leave his intense eyes as they meld into the stream of hot water trailing over your skin.

"You did no such thing." There was your tongue that could cut, "You were not weak. You held your fucking own, got out of restraints on your own, stood up to those dumb asses on your own. And escaped with a little encouragement from your friends."

You take in a deep breath and he knows you're about to go into a full on rant, he cannot help the smile that makes it's way onto his lips.

A smile he has not allowed himself to have for quite sometime.

"Bakugou Katsuki is far from the definition of weak. Sure asshole is what the dictionary would read, dick head even but not weak. You've defeated countless villains after surprise attacks on campus. Encouraged your peers through your gruff, arrogant yet determined ways. Helped a friend who struggled with his exams and hell even embodied some confidence in him because you believed in him to do his very best and you wouldn't allow him to think anything less. You should be doing the same to your God damn self! " You let out a shaky breath, " What happened to All Might was inevitable. A move was made on him long before we even got to UA. Hell you probably, even though I'm sure you despise the thought, your fight with Deku had developed both of you. Hopefully for the better."

Katsuki growls against your skin.

"But you have to allow yourself to cry in order not to break. Tears are not weakness. They are a sign that you feel and that you acknowledge how you feel, Katsuki." You squeeze him and he sighs.

You're right, he knows this. He does.

But damn does he hate being wrong.

He hesitates to let go of you, considering how you feel like a piece of heaven, especially after sharing that burden with you.

Your comfort was needed but the situation you two were in, one of you fully naked while the other was in a soaked towel that struggled to fit your thick frame looked...well it looked kinda bad.

And now that Katuski was feeling better he was going to do what he knew how to do best.

Tease you.

"Oi." He says pulling away, sweeping back his soaked ash blonde hair from his eyes, causing you to swallow hot desire. He notices and does it once more before leaning in close.

"If you wanted to see me naked Y/N." All you had to do was ask. You blush as you take in the sight of him before turning away just as your eyes hit the sculpted V pointing you towards your undoing. You swallow as your face, body, and even your core begin to heat.

"I uh..." You stammer and he smiles like a cat stalking prey.

"Speak up, kitten." You blush furious that he knows your weakness.

"How did you.." His smile turns deadlier.

"You know that loud mouth Mina has been trying to get me to date you since you transferred." He studies you for a moment, eyes trialing over the towel that struggles to keep your figure contained, "She told me you like pet names, Princess."

Your eyes snap to him helplessly and he chuckles.

"I thought that was a lie but I see that it's not. Well since you've seen me cry might as well show you how you make me feel." He says cruelly before slamming you against the cool tile by your throat, careful to avoid the exposed shards. He takes in your gasp, can feel your pulse quicken in his fingers, knowing full well you have the capability to overpower him and when you don't...

He devours you. Your lips belong to him to which you gladly devote, as he kisses you with a fervor. Ripping the pitiful sopping towel from your flushed frame as he presses himself against you. He nips your lips and you moan into his mouth as he all but forces his tongue onto yours.

He pulls away abruptly, to study, to give you the time to process his actions.

When you return his gaze with labored breaths and eyes half mast filled to the brim with lust, tears long forgotten he leans in, pressing his forehead to yours. Squeezing your biceps.

"Thank you." He says, placing a gentle kiss to your lips, "Thank you."

"A...anytime Katsuki." You offer softly voice almost lost to his passion as you caress his forearms. He smiles devilishly one more before whispering in your ear with deadly huskiness in his voice.

"Let's make Mina regret telling you how great shower sex is, my little kitten."

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x fem reader #bnha katsuki #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo imagine #bnha #bnha au #bnha bakugou #bnha kacchan #bnha bakugo #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha imagine #bnha imagines

[ciucalata]

Do you do fic recs? Because you gave me the perfect fic and now I trust you with my life.

Good omens fic? Sure i do like god i have so many fics i can’t stop thinking about

Four times Crowley called Aziraphale "sweetheart" without noticing (and One time he did) by @theladyzephyr: "Sweetheart" (1290) - A person who is very dear to another; one who is loved. From sweet (adj.) + heart (n.) // Over the years, Crowley has called Aziraphale "sweetheart" on at least four different occasions. He just hasn't actually noticed himself saying it. - this is the first fic I’ve read for a/c and honestly I’m so glad. I’m weak for pet names and Crowley using them for Aziraphale??? Best thing ever (also pls make sure to read the second part too bc damn i died from so much fluff i wasn’t able to handle it)

and, so on by PaintedVanilla: Crowley doesn’t remember heaven, but Aziraphale remembers him. - THIS FIC?? THIS FUCKING FIC!!! HOW CAN YOU CRY BC SOMEONE IS TICKLISH?? IDK JUST READ IT AND YOU’LL FIND OUT. Like wow..... this fic was a heartbreak after another but it was so satisfying to see it all come together at the end. I love fics when one of them remembers the other from before the Fall and tbh this fic is the reason why (by of this my friend likes to call me “you, , , angsty lil ho”)

off the record by PaintedVanilla: Crowley has to submit a biannual report, but there are some things that he often neglects to include. - this one was honestly such a pleasant surprise. Like it made me fall even more in love with Crowley. I loved how this fic was set up and how it showed us Crowley’s relation with the vices and the virtues. Some scenes had me going like !!!!! and i just needed a few seconds to squeal about my feelings lmao

small infinities and all that by @billypotts : Crowley and Aziraphale are turned human. This is the aftermath. - oh boy this fic!!!! This one fucked me up, but like in a good way. I mean, sure, it reminded me of what a fragile thing mortality is, but it also filled me up with so much hope. I loved to see how these two figured out things together and learned to just... live. A masterpiece :’)

If We've Got Nothing (We've Got Us) by @kedreeva: Two months after the world didn't end, Aziraphale finds the first dark feather growing in his wings. - i know you already read this fic since it’s the only one i ever recced but like icubwey THIS ONE IS JUST PERFECT!! The first chapter was lovely and it ended on such a hopeful note for Aziraphale and Crowley. But then!!! THEN THE SECOND CHATER APPEARED AND STABBED ME IN MY FRAGILE HEART and i say this in the best way possible. Reading this fic filled me with so much warmth and love and just wow i can’t think about it without crying a little every time

Thy Kingdom Come by @shanastoryteller : Crowley is just following orders. - and speaking about fics i can’t think about without crying, this one is also on the list!!! I’ve been a fan of the author for such a long time, and just the way they add twists to their stories never cease to blow my mind. And this one is no exception!!! It’s definitely one of those fic that i couldn’t put down for even just a second. I’m trying to put into words what this fic made me feel but it’s just.. i can’t it honestly left me speechless. (And as once again my friend so kindly pointed it out “you, at any given moment: still thinking about that crowley king of hell fic” and she’s right!!! This fic is always in the back at my mind and i will start crying about it at any given time)

You, Soft and Only by @thehoyden : He hadn’t expected a sudden lapful of angel. // “Very sorry about this,” Aziraphale said, and kissed him. - oh boy oh boy oh boy!!!! This fic!!! It’s been almost a week and i am still not able to put my thoughts into words. BUT LIKE??? THE FLORENCE SCENE?? IT PROMISED ME A GOOD TIME FROM THE BEGINNING AND THEN PUNCHED ME OUT OF NOWHERE BUT I’D LIE IF I SAID THAT IT DIDN’T DELIVER IT by god it did. I was off for hours after i read this fic and i honestly took a nap because it was too much. And when i woke up i screamed to my friend about this (since it’s explicit, she didn’t feel comfortable reading it but bless her soul for letting me scream out my feelings) bc if i went down bc of this fic, then I’m sure as hell taking her with me, and now i’m also taking you down with me :)

Made Flesh by rfsmiley: AU in which Crowley is two entities, and Aziraphale isn’t sure how he feels about either of them. - I’m not gonna lie to you, my dude, this fic started off a little weird but as it went on, it got better and better and i started to warm up to the idea and wow i now realize that i had the same feelings as Aziraphale in this fic i only need a moment to lie down and think about how amazing it is. I could only dream of reaching this level with my writing. But yeah, ignoring my existential crisis, this fic is way cuter than i expected it to be tbh

I have a lot more fics i wanna rec but i need to reread them bc after a month of almost nonstop fic reading, the plots mixed together in my brain cbwieuf oh yeah also anything @forineffablereasons writes is an experience (i really recommend their tumblr ficlets i can’t catch a break with them)

#good omens #ineffable husbands #good omens fic rec #ellie raspunde #anonymous #god talking about these fics brought back so many feelings #it’s almost 4 am and the sleepy part of me just wants to go to bed crying about good omens fics #the other part is highkey worried there is a mouse in my room

[tonystarkbingo]

Tony Stark Bingo Prompt Meme

So, we did another Prompt Meme game, and came up with these summaries based on a three-tag prompt. This is an open prompt, if any of these summaries look like fun to you, please feel free to write them!! Tag us or the writer of the prompt when you do so we can all see how cool you are and what you’ve given us for the promot

@summerpipedream - Winteriron - All Tony wanted to do after finishing up at MIT was to pack up his desk at Stark Industries and quietly fade into obscurity. Sure money was tight, but he never expected Jan to actually sign him up for one of those social media reality shows. Now, he was stuck in a house, with no phone, no internet, or access to the outside world, trying to avoid the sexy Bucky Barnes, who's mission in life seemed to be to never wear a shirt around him.

@darthbloodorange - The world is ending, an alien race has all but taken over the world, it is an apocalypse of devastating proportions, most of the world is dead. The Avengers, those who are left, have retreated to a bunker built a fourth of the way down into the Earth’s core. Tony and Steve have been growing closer, when they are not working together to find a way to fight back against the aliens, they are fuck buddies. Tony’s a genius, he knows the odd of surviving this are not in their favour. Odds were that they were going to die… and well, Tony doesn’t want to die without letting Steve know how he feels. Before the battle Tony corners Steve in the armoury and confesses that he loves him. Steve is aromatic, has been since project rebirth.  They are both so very sorry. 

@newnewyorker93 - After a series of strange killings where the victims are found set up kneeling like they're praying, Tony Stark (a private detective) is on the case. An initial (false) suspect is the local priest, Matt Murdoch, who ends up being a helpful ally in solving the case (and possibly more)

@27dragons - Winteriron: You'd think that Tony Stark would have learned to ski when he was growing up. You'd think wrong; Howard never saw the point in it. So here he is, almost done with his PhD, and his friends have decided on a spring break trip to go skiing. He doesn't want to admit to them that he doesn't know how, so their first night at the lodge, he offers one of the ski instructors a large sum of money to sneak him up onto the slopes for a few lessons that night. Against his better judgment -- but desperately needing the cash -- Ski instructor Bucky Barnes takes Tony up on the slopes. Unfortunately, just as Tony's starting to get the hang of things, it starts snowing. Hard. Even more unfortunately, the newfallen snow disguises a patch of ice and Tony tumbles out of control. By the time Bucky catches up to him and verifies that he's not badly hurt, the snow is coming down too hard to see the lodge -- so what else are they to do but seek shelter in a caretaker's cabin conveniently (TM) nearby and wait for morning...?

@gavilansblog - Tony is kidnapped as part of an Evil Plot (TM). He's handling things just fine, tyvm, until his would-be rescuer (who he's been pining for, obviously), gets dragged in and handcuffed back to back with him. Seriously, dude? If you insist on breaking the kidnapping procedure at least actually rescue me! The taxes come in when the Evil Plot Master does his monologue and reveals that the kidnapping is part of a Villain Logic scheme to get Stark Industries to throw money behind the campaign to get a new law requiring actually taxing billionaires to fail. Evil Plot Master is, naturally, a billionaire. Tony would facepalm if he weren't handcuffed to his idiot rescuer, seriously. And then the kidnapping protocol kicks in and Jarvis shuts the whole facility down only instead of being handcuffed by himself Tony is now handcuffed to his rescuer so they have to do the whole escaping part of the plan while handcuffed together, resulting is the standard Tension (TM) moments and possibly an almost-kiss.

Fey Relay - Bruce, Tony, and Peter, resident science geeks, get de-aged and really want to play in the lab. You know, the one that has lots of things that can kill them in it? But they're still sort of mentally in there, just cranky and smol. So they get assigned their own Non-Science Adults who they hand-hold and point to do their sciency bidding. Thor, Steve, and Natasha oblige them and have great fun!

@rise-up-ting-ting-like-glitter Dragons were real. Okay they were actually just souped-up dinosaurs, but that didn’t mean Tony wasn’t being hunted—with intent—by lizards. He hadn’t wanted to come to this stupid Island in the first place. SI funding had explicitly been removed from the crackpot idea to return dinosaurs to the food chain. He could have told everyone that this was going to happen. Instead he was climbing through a jungle with a one-armed man who refused to give his name and if they didn’t get to the raptor enclave, retrieve the anti-venom, and return in time, people Tony loved were going to die.

His guide had better live up to his scruffy wild-man appearance or Tony was going to lose everything.

@somesortofitalianroast - Nurse Bucky Barnes wasn’t sure what exactly was going on. The vigilante known as Nomad had just crashed through the (luckily) open fire escape window. While he was lucky not to have any broken bones, he was unlucky enough to have a bad concussion. A really bad one. One that meant he couldn’t fall asleep. Also unfortunately, he only had the one bed and the enormous Nomad wouldn’t fit on his couch, so they’d have to share. It was only after he helped Nomad into his bed that he noticed the blood, and, unthinking, he pulled the cowl off to check for another, serious injury. And gasped. Nomad was Steve Rogers, his best friend in school, who’d died in an IED attack in Iraq 5 years earlier.

@polizwrites Natasha Romanov and Virginia Potts are the proprietors  of  Chaykus -  a Russian tea room on the seedy side of town.  Its new mission  is to be a sanctuary for women  who have been smuggled into the country for sex trafficking purposes.  As for the men who engage in such practices? Well, they are quickly discovering that their days are numbered.

@dixiehellcat - Pepper is the manager of the heavy metal band War Machine. James Rhodes, lead guitarist and founder of the band, is looking for a new lead singer. He did not expect the woo-loving Virginia to get horoscopes cast for the applicants and decide based on that. He just wants somebody who can sing, dammit. This Stark kid is uncomfortably attractive, yeah, but he's been thrown out of two bands already. what? the shower sex? it was only that one time after a show, and they were both wasted...

@dracusfyre Tony was born without a soul mark. Bucky's was lost forever when Hydra took his arm.  Without the universe to give you a hint that this person is The One, falling in love is gambling with your heart. But soulmates don't have to be born, they can be made - and Bucky and Tony decide that the same should be true of soul marks, as well

@ceealaina Tony was like nerd prime growing up. Normally he doesn’t let it bother him too much — he’s got inventions to invent, after all. But all of a sudden he realizes that he’s almost 20, he’s got two degrees under his belt, and has no idea how to do much more than kiss. He’s not entirely sure how he manages to convince Rhodey to sleep with him to “get it out of the way,” or how he manages to convince him to keep sleeping with him to “help improve my technique,” but it’s the best sex of his life (not that he has much to compare it to) and he never wants it to end. But it’s the night when they’re watching movies, and Tony’s ends up dozing against Rhodey’s shoulder only to wake up to a feather light kiss against his forehead that he realizes he might be in trouble. 

@thudworm - King Anthony considers it part of his royal duties to protect his people by going out and taking care of any monsters harassing them. Of course, no one can know that the knight Iron Man is really the king, which leads to some fun assumptions about Iron Man’s identity.

@jacarandabanyan Tony’s mom forbid him to purposefully drive out his roommates so that he can have a room all to himself where he can tinker until morning light. She had to hear about it from friends, acquaintances, and other well-known socialites often enough when Tony went to boarding school and ran his roommates off there. Now that he’s in college, that behavior must stop. Luckily for Tony, he doesn’t even have to try to get the first two roommates at MIT to request a room switch. But then he meets his third roommate- a tall, handsome, funny man named James Rhodes. At first it was just natural joy at having a fellow competent engineer to hang out with, and perhaps the occasional dirty thought. But his crush on the man quickly grows. Before he knows it, Tony’s pining hard for his best friend. Every once in a while he thinks Rhodey might be interested too- but then he hears Rhodey lecturing a computer science senior for plying Tony with :beer: alcohol at a party because “come on, man, kid’s only 16. Have a little class and try chasing skirts a little closer to your age.” After that, he’s convinced Rhodey will only ever see him as a friend and a kid.

psychiccatpanda - Tony works hard and puts in long hours.  So what if some of his long nights turn into very early mornings at CHew 2 OH.  The only drawback is his business partner and head baker, Steve, with his disappointed looks and his continual arguing.  When Steve's friend Bucky starts hanging around the shop, though, Tony notices.  Oh lord, he notices. A month or so later, one night when he and Steve are working after hours at Steve's place to plan their seasonal menu, Steve tells him that he's noticed him checking out Bucky.  Tony hits him with a decorative pillow and things kind of get out of hand.  Surveying the damage (let's face it - Steve's coffee table was never going to be quite right again), Steve turns to him, "I was just going to suggest you get some practice kissing before asking him out."  Oh.  Oh...

@tisfan So... the problem with being a necromancer is being able to practice one's skill. The local cemeteries won't even let you look at a dead body if you're not a relative. Tony Stark, budding necromancer, forges a marriage certificate for the John Doe so that he can practice his craft. Only to find that it works perfectly. Bucky is No Longer Dead, and 100% interested in staying married...

@abrighterdarkness He didn’t mean to snoop.  He knew that wasn’t what he was being paid for here--the loud laughter of the party echoing from down the hall where he was actually supposed to be, was clear enough reminder of that fact. All Tony wanted was two short minutes to breathe without being pawed at--yes, yes, that might be his job but breathing room was much appreciated just the same--and now he was stuck in this closet sized bathroom with what sounded like a mob-hit being discuss right outside the door.  He knew he should’ve turned this job down.

magica - Howard Stark had an idea. Some people - alright, most people, stop hitting me, Maria! - would say it was a terrible idea. But it was only a little injection of stuff based on that strange glowing blue cube they'd found in the Arctic. And Tony was absolutely willing, let's get that straight, Maria! How was Howard supposed to know that it'd enable Tony to open up his own portals? And if some mystical green energy happened to swamp Tony just as he was opening a portal to Egypt? Well, that wasn't his fault. The dark-haired, well-built Priest of Anubis that Tony manages to bring back with him? That is not his fault either, damn it, Maria!

@festiveferret - Tony could say with absolute confidence - at least, if he could say anything at all in his current predicament - that this was not the way his PR rep, Pepper, would have wanted him to come out. There were, he figured, several hundred ways that the day could have gone better, but if asked to rank the top three, he'd put them thusly: 

1) That he decided to come out by having a wild, unabashed make out session with none other than Captain America, in the middle of a busy New York street.

2) That it was, in fact, the morning after their first "date" - a term he was applying loosely here - and not a tasteful reveal of a long-standing, safe, secure, adult relationship.

And 3) That at some point between the first floor lobby of his apartment building and the front door off his penthouse suite he'd suddenly, unexpectedly, and so-far permanently been turned into a ferret and no one knew.

It would also probably concern her to discover that of all these rather bewildering turns in his life, the one at the forefront of his mind was that ferrets couldn't send morning-after texts, and he didn't want Steve to think their little dalliance had been nothing more than an - albeit unfortunately public - one night stand.

Of one thing he was sure, however: Pepper was going to need a raise.

#tonystarkbingo2020 #bingo party #prompt meme

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: Death shall not rest on my doorstep

Summary: Bruce dies and suddenly Gotham, previously claimed by the Omega, is without a ruler. And Jason hadn’t planned to do anything about it, but-

AN: Written for @thursday-batfam-prompts ABO! Because I like non-traditional A/B/O AU’s so this is NOT CREEPY. I repeat: NOTHING CREEPY!

In-between all the vigilante occupied cities, Gotham had always been the odd one out. Not simply because none of its heroes were aliens or meta-humans of any kind, but because it was a claimed territory.

If you passed Gotham city borders, you entered the home of the Bat. It made outsiders vary. They weren’t used to the omnipresent feeling of darkness waiting to wrap them in its shadow. They thought of it as unnatural, gross, and downright frightening. For those who called Gotham home, the Bat’s presence was the sweet reassurance that someone would be there for you at the end of the day. Whether it was to welcome you to the gates of hell or heaven’s feather-light embrace, nobody knew. It was the reason nobody ever truly left Gotham. After years of living under someone’s protection, it was hard to move to another place.

During his training, Jason had spent a couple weeks in Bialya, first tracking down a teacher, then learning under them. While the country wasn’t a place Jason had wanted to spend more time in than necessary, Bialya was also one of the few claimed territories still left in the world. Its ruling Omega Queen Bee couldn’t be further from Bruce, but the weight that came from being in claimed lands had been comforting on Jason’s shoulder.

He had never known what it was like to live in free land. Jason had been a toddler still when Batman had started his crusade. He couldn’t even recall what the city’s scent had been before the Omega had torn through the streets, declaring it his city to nourish and cherish. In the course of one night Gotham’s fate had changed.

And now its direction had turned once more.

Jason knew that there was a difference between death and absence. He was the best example of what either did to you. Absence was breathing in and remembering the taste of something you were missing dearly. Death was defined by taking a breath, choking on glass, and wondering how you could ever lose something as precious as your heart.

Gotham was grieving, had been since Bruce had died - or disappeared if you were to believe the words of an equally destroyed teenager. Jason almost felt sorry for Tim. First, another little Beta disturbed the careful balance of Gotham’s vigilante pack, then their parent and guide died, and finally Dick proved incapable of putting his foot down properly, effectively pushing Tim out.

And meanwhile, Gotham was still in tears. Sure, there was a new Bat on the streets who could hit just as hard as the old one, but in the end, Dick was a Beta and couldn’t claim a territory. It was almost ironic that Crime Alley, Jason’s region, was the most stable one. Its people missed the Bat – How could they not when it had such a much more merciful chokehold than the Red Hood? – but at least its borders were still defined every night.

Jason stretched his arms above his head. It was time to get going, least of all some other second-rate Omega thought he could take what belonged to Jason. As he made his way across the rooftops, Jason stopped once in a while just to turn west and stare. The rest of Gotham whispered sweetly, begging for its Knight in shining armor or, perhaps as Jason used to dream so long ago, for a Robin who had spread his wings.

Bruce gave him a promise ages ago when the streets Jason walked hadn’t run red with his own blood yet.

Nightwing had made his home in Blüdhaven then, barely even a member of their pack, and Batgirl had sought new heights to explore. There had been no other children tearing at Bruce’s cape for attention, whether that was in form of an angry blonde Alpha, another silent Omega or two Beta Robins.

Jason had been a son then, the only other Omega. It had been logical that he’d become the next Bat and inherit Gotham. His eyes had been so wide when Bruce promised him this city, so full of disbelief.

The child that had died had been right to question it. Crime Alley was all of Gotham that ever should belong to Jason, to the Red Hood. The rest was the home of the Bat and a naïve, hopeful Robin dreaming of the future.

Red Hood couldn’t care for a city. His job was to keep it contained.

Jason’s attention spiked when he felt a disturbance two blocks further down. The Bat was halfway across the city, but he could tell that the newest Robin was interrupting on the edge of Jason’s territory. Jason wasn’t really able to pinpoint Damian’s scent. He was a child still, smelling more like a mix of his parents than himself. But Jason was more than familiar what Robin’s scent should be. Before they were even allowed outside, Bruce had taught them how to divide themselves.

This was who you were at home.

(Old books, oil, hot chocolate, lemonade tarts)

This was who the media got to see.

(Ink, money, gold, summer)

And this was who you will be on patrol.

(Hope, streets, laughter, the Bat)

Robin was supposed to be attuned to the Bat. Jason had buried that part of himself deep beneath the anger, blood, birth and decay of the Pit. Damian, however, still smelled like the Bat. Like a Bat who was out of his depth and should have stopped hanging onto Daddy’s legacy when he left this city the first time, but a Bat nevertheless.

What was the little brat doing here? There was no reason-

Oh.

Jason bit on his tongue until it bled. It was a bad habit he hadn’t been able to unlearn even after all the terrible lessons his silence had taught him already.

Someone was trying to lay claim on Gotham, or at least a part of Gotham.

Jason shouldn’t care.

He had his part of town, the rest was up for grabs since Jason distinctly hadn’t claimed it and yet-

It had been supposed to be his years ago. When he still recalled how to not only be the danger waiting to snap your neck but the person you ran to for help. The kids on the street came to him, they recognized his slang and knew he was one of their own – but therein laid the problem. Robin hadn’t been one of them. Robin was theirs, body, soul, mind. If you misbehaved, you’d get hurt, that was given. Batman and Robin wouldn’t be effective if they just gave stern talks. The reassurance that despite everything, you wouldn’t die on the cold and dirty asphalt though, was enough to trust Robin above Red Hood every day. As long as Batman had been there, Jason hadn’t needed anyone to trust him.

But now the difference of Bruce’s disappearance managed to tear a rift the size of the Grand Canyon in-between him and everyone else.

Jason hurried to his bike and raced to Damian. He wanted to see which idiot thought he could trouble the most lethal Robin to date yet and dare to claim his father’s city right in front of him. Jason was halfway there when he recognized the intruder.

Victor Zsasz.

Fuck. Jason hadn’t even known the serial killer had escaped from Arkham.

He was already driving way above the speed limit, the few miles more he pushed for shouldn’t matter. When he arrived at the scene, Jason first scanned the situation. Zsasz was armed, Robin didn’t have his belt, and a couple kids were standing behind Robin’s back. Oh great, civilians. Last thing Jason needed tonight. As soon as he jumped off his bike, even before feet touched the ground, Jason threw a smoke bomb in Zsasz’s direction.

“What the hell-?”

While Zsasz was distracted, Jason ran for Damian’s belt lying on the ground.

“Don’t let anyone ever take this from you,” he hissed as he threw it in Damian’s hands. “You lose the belt, battle’s already looking worse.”

Then Jason turned to the kids. “You, scramble. You don’t want to see this.”

They didn’t have to be told twice and rushed off in the opposite direction, disappearing into another street.

“I had it under control!” Damian lied, so Jason didn’t even bother with a reply.

The smoke cleared up and Zsasz didn’t wait for even a second to jump Jason. The serial killer was dangerous, but he had nothing on the teachers Jason had trained under. Jason grabbed Zsasz’s outstretched arm, breaking his wrist as he took the man’s knife away and used his speed against him to throw him on the ground. He crashed harshly against the asphalt, but that wasn’t enough to stop him from trying to kick Jason’s legs away.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jason could see Damian reaching for his batarangs and no. The last thing he needed was more knives in Zsasz’s reach. Instead, Jason let himself be caught and crashed onto the attacker’s back with his knees.

“So you get out of Arkham and the first thing you do is try to claim Gotham,” Jason said. “You’re not really that stupid, are you?”

Zsasz growled and tried to shake Jason off.

“Nobody’s taken Gotham yet!” Zsasz shouted. “The Bat is dead. Has been for weeks now. We all know it! I’m just the first to try to do something about it.”

“And you think you deserve Gotham? You think you’re strong enough to keep this city under your thumb? Don’t make me laugh.”

Zsasz’s face turned into a torn impression of a snarl and he tried to push himself up again, but Jason stopped him by putting pressure on his broken hand. Zsasz hissed and reached for Jason’s leg with his other hand, digging his nails into the armor.

“Don’t act so high and mighty now, little Red Riding Hood, you didn’t do anything either! You’re weak and scared. Barely brave enough to stick to Crime Alley like the trash you are- urgh.”

Jason dunked Zsasz’s face in the ground, but that didn’t stop him. He just kept talking and talking, cutting into Jason’s skin with his words just as well as he would with a knife.

“All dressed up with a Bat across your chest, but we all know you’re not really a part of their pack. You just take like the rest of us. Take, take, take and cut this city into pieces, but you don’t try to fix anything at all.”

“Shut up.”

He didn’t need to hear it, he didn’t want to listen to it anymore. All Zsasz should do now was keep silent and stay down like the scum he was.

“What? Little red afraid to hear the truth?”

“I said, shut up!”

Zsasz kept grinning despite lying on the ground defeated. Jason only had to put a bullet into his head and it would be all over. It would show him what happened when you messed with the Red Hood and tried to take what didn’t belong to you. Jason should claim Gotham to keep all the monsters away from ever touching this city again. Jason should let them rot in the same depth of anger and decay as him.

Them and the rest of the city.

He couldn’t do that to everyone. The rogues of this city, the ugly creatures of terrible massacres deserved to drown in the worst of Jason’s self. But the kids spraying Batman murals and Robin Rs should grow up in a better place.

“Speechless, Red?”

“You,” Jason said and injected Zsasz’s with a sedative. “Talk too much.”

Slowly he stood up. Tomorrow, maybe, Jason would regret it. The Pit would scream at him, and he’d wake up wondering how he could ever let the broken little Robin spread his wings again. But right now Jason was angry. Gotham was his city. The city they had sweat, bled and died for. The hell would he let anybody else take it from them.

No matter what you did, you couldn’t forget Robin. It was almost a little too easy to open up the cage he’d put the kid in and let hope, laughter and the Bat wash over him, effectively switching places with the scent of the Pit.

Zsasz’s eyes went wide, he looked up to Jason as if he saw a ghost. Jason licked his lips.

“Y-you’re dead!” The man screeched. “The Joker killed you! How is your scent like the dead second’s?”

Jason’s shoulders tremored. He wanted to cry, but instead, a pitiful laugh escaped him. He grinned, bright and just on the edge of unsettling.

“He did,” Jason said. “He took a crowbar to my head and didn’t stop until only heaven could have saved me, and it didn’t care. But do you know who cares? Do you know who wanted me back?”

Zsasz tried to push himself to his feet again, only to stumble and fall again in a fit of hysterics. Jason stepped on the man’s back, pushing him down.

“I said, do you know?”

The man sobbed and shook his head. With his hands, he tried to protect his face. Jason could feel Damian’s eyes on his back. He wondered if the kid had ever gotten to see Bruce like this.

“Gotham did. She called me back to keep this city from falling. So listen well and tell all your buddies: This city is mine. It always was, it always will. The Bat gave it to me and if you want it, feel free to knock on our signal and we will answer.”

“W-we?”

 “The Bat, Robin, me and all your worst nightmares.”

Before Zsasz could say another word or continue with his freak-out, Jason hit him at the back of his neck, knocking him out. Zsasz deserved death. All of Gotham would be better off with him dead in a ditch six-feet-under.

But murder was hardly the first thing Jason should do after taking Gotham, if it was something he could afford to do at all.

In the distance, Jason could already hear the police sirens.

“C’mon, Robin,” Jason told his Robin.

His.

It hadn’t even been minutes and Jason was already getting protective. He could already feel the headache coming. Was this how Bruce had always felt day in and day out? No wonder that Betas were usually the organizers in charge of keeping everything else running and Alphas were sent to defend their land. Jason had a hard time recalling a moment he had ever felt as cheerful and nauseous as right now.

But maybe his suffering would be short. Dick would kill him as soon as he got to them. Even if Jason would still have to walk Gotham’s borders at least once to finalize his claim, but Dick would be able to tell right away that this particular Robin had laid claim on the city.

He’d shout and accuse Jason of trying to be Batman, except Jason really wasn’t. The man he had grown up to be couldn’t be Batman.

But he still remembered how to be Robin. To look like he belonged in any street, crack a joke for the crying children and give them hope, and linger in the shadow of the Bat and support him.

Their city, their pack, didn’t need Red Hood to spread the fear right now. He could do this when their runaway Batgirl returned to be this pack’s Omega.

Right now, though, they only had Jason, and there was a particular responsibility that came from caring for a city. Mainly, that you had to love all of it. Every corner, every flaw.

And Jason could do it.

“Todd, what are you doing!? How dare you put your filthy scent on Father’s city!”

Damian had finally found his voice again it appeared.

“I’m putting a claim on our city. And I smell just like you, brat.”

“This isn’t yours-“

“Then whose is it?” Jason interrupted the squirt. “Zsasz is right. B is dead and everybody knows it. Unless this pack got another member with the ability to claim territory lying around, be my guest and let them take all of Gotham. Until then, Gotham will be dealing with me. Don’t worry, I’ll stick to your rules. Now, are you coming or not?”

Another second passed, then Damian got onto Jason’s bike.

“Did B ever take you ‘round the city and showed you how to do proper claiming?”

Jason could feel Damian shake his head.

“Then I’ll do it. The most important part is the visualization. If you don’t know how your home looks, you can’t draw proper borders. You know how Batman forces you to memorize maps before you go out? Imagine that but a hundred times worse. Every day he’d have me learn each street and then go about practicing it. I swear, the first time I managed to make a part of the Batcave mine, it was the most exhausting thing I’ve ever done.”

They covered all the bridges, kept driving until the sun was rising again and the newspapers began to shred each other apart trying to explain that it was their dear second Robin who had taken over for Batman. Jason enjoyed the silence of the drive. He and Dick would scream at each other long and loud enough once they returned to the Cave.

#jason todd #bruce wayne #damian wayne #dc #dc comics #batman #fanfic #idk what I'm doing with my life

[imagine-darksiders]

I really liked that “savage quotes that are memes”! Could you please please please do the same for Vulgrim, Abaddon and maybe even Usiel if you have the time? Thank you!

Vulgrim: You would never go so far as to say you and Vulgrim had become close. There was still a very real possibility that he’d turn around and pull your soul out through your teeth if he thought it would bring him a profit. 

That being said however, you had discovered over the course of your stay in Haven that the demon merchant had just the right amount of charisma to make you lower your guard. Which was quite possibly why he was still such a successful business ‘man.’ Vulgrim spoke to you and your fellow humans, and once you all learned that he wasn’t about to try anything - not with three, titanic guard dogs subtly watching his every move - you started speaking back. 

It took a while, but eventually, you came to realise that you liked Vulgrim and by his own begrudging admission, he didn’t entirely dislike you humans either. You were the only species he’d encountered who didn’t talk to him as though he were leagues beneath you, and way down deep inside, there was a grizzled old part of the demon that appreciated the effort. 

You weren’t friends though. Demons don’t have friends, as everyone - himself included - liked to remind you. 

So at the end of it all, when the Destroyer and his army suddenly appeared outside Haven and declared their intention to eradicate the last of your species, the sadness you felt at having to leave him behind couldn’t have been because it felt like you were losing another friend. No, surely you were only sad to lose the late night conversations about all the different worlds he’d visited, the jokes - that you aren’t entirely sure were jokes - where he told you how valuable your soul would be and you should really consider giving it to him for safe keeping. 

It was during one of your odd, little chats with Vulgrim that you first spotted the Destroyer on the horizon and not long after, you heard Ulthane barking gruffly for everyone to get inside the tree and into ‘the bridge’. Somehow, you knew this moment was a catalyst. You knew you’d be leaving Haven, never to return. And it seemed Vulgrim knew it as well. 

“I…can’t believe I’m about to say this, to a human, of all things,” He gives a soft, incredulous laugh and shakes his head, causing the golden sigils dangling from his cowl to clink and sway with the motion. “But you may be the first customer I’ve ever had who’s company I shall miss more than their business.”

It’s perhaps the kindest thing he’s ever said. Which is why you’re doubly floored when, not a moment later, he sinks lower to the ground and casts a quick look out towards the encroaching horde before turning his narrow, green gaze back to you and murmurs, “I suppose this is goodbye then, huma-…Y/n, and the last we shall ever see of one another.”

In all the time you’ve known him, Vulgrim has never once given expression to anything anything other than a mischievous grin or a dramatic pout. Now though, his scaly brow hangs low over his eyes, vestigial wings drooped behind him in much the same way and suddenly, something compels you to step closer to the demon, offer him a wide, albeit bleak smile and say, “Listen, Vulgrim. Whenever there is a meeting, a parting is sure to follow. However, that parting need not last forever. Whether a parting be forever or merely for a short time, well..” You offer him a soft smile. “That’s really up to you.” And then, as an afterthought, you reach out to touch your fingers against the demon’s forearm. 

The way Vulgrim’s eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets and stare warily at your hand lets you know that he probably hasn’t received a well-meaning touch in his entire life. 

With a last, parting smile, fully aware that you’ve officially run out of time, you retract your hand and throw your demonic compadre a hasty wave before turning and dashing into the tree whilst Vulgrim stares after you, a bewildered frown tugging at his lips. 

He doesn’t immediately retreat into his serpent holes, too caught up in trying to remember when - if ever - humans had been so dramatic. 

—

Usiel: The hard-nosed, no nonsense angelic commander, Usiel, hadn’t quite known what to think when you fell out of that air duct and landed slap bang on top of his desk, scuppering books, scrolls and inkwells alike, and sending his soldiers into a mild panic, certain they were under attack. 

An entire battalion of seasoned warriors surrounded the war table with their swords drawn and pointed at a groaning, human-shaped lump laying in the mess. Shortly afterwards, a shouting match had ensued between you and several of the angels, the latter of whom seemed adamant that they toss you into the river. You, of course, were quite outspoken in your objection to this idea. 

After a lot of back and forth, Usiel had brought his fist down hard on the wooden table you still sat on, bringing the arguments to an abrupt end and nearly jolting you out of your seat. He’d then proceeded to pick you up and deposit you outside the warehouse with nothing but a gentle nudge in the direction of Haven and a grumbled, “Run along now, little one.”

You’d been making periodic trips back to the outpost ever since. 

Eventually, Usiel grew tired of scolding and shooing you off his desk, so he resigned himself to his newfound role of being an unwilling recipient to all your curious questions. 

That, oddly enough, was how you ended up becoming closer to the angelic commander - close enough, at least, that he no longer objected to your presence when he found himself standing alone on the roof, elbows leant heavily on the safety railing and gazing steadily out over the city. 

One such night, after you’d snuck out of the safety of the maker tree and made your way up to North End and the shipping yard that sat on the river’s edge, you found yourself reclining in your usual spot next to your usual company, who you discovered was in grim sorts. Turns out, he was having something of an existential crisis. It almost made you glad to know that angels could be just as prone to those as humans.  

“We have failed in our duty,” he snapped after you told him you were sure he and his men did everything they could to fight the demonic hordes. “We failed to drive the demon menace back, we failed to hold our ground and now, we are here!” He throws a heavy arm out to the side, only missing knocking you out by a few inches. “Squatting in this…this metal husk of an outpost! I cannot even provide my men with proper shelter. I have failed as a Commander, and as a soldier of Heaven!-” Suddenly, the gigantic angel pauses, his eyes shifting across to peer at you, apparently surprised that he’d just unloaded months’ worth of anguish on a human. He waits for you to ask why he’s telling you any of this, but you only tilt your head to one side and make a curious noise in your throat, wordlessly giving him permission to go on. 

All at once, the wind goes out of his sails and he visibly deflates, the feathers on his wings flattening back to a more dignified volume. “And then,” he adds, “I almost threw away what little integrity I had left by aligning myself with…Lust.” He spits the sin’s name out as though it had gotten lodged between his teeth. 

“Oh yeah, I heard about that,” you wince, leaning over to give his armoured shoulder a pat. 

“Mmm. I can only thank Heaven that the horseman knocked some sense back into me.” 

“Ha, quite literally from what I hear.” 

“I thought I could save us,” he laments, unaffected by your attempt to lighten the dreary mood heaped upon you both, “I had hoped, at the very least, my Seventh Legion would be restored, and we could return to Heaven with our heads held -” Once again, Usiel cuts himself off with a sigh that matches his impressive age. “- Ah, but it does us no good to dwell on what we wish could have been. Fact remains, we shan’t be returning to the White City, and I cannot help but wonder,” he continues softly, “what will happen to us.” 

There’s a shadow hovering over his brilliant, white eyes that hadn’t been there a few minutes ago. You watch him lift his head to gaze imploringly at the moon, as if he really hoped to find an answer in its luminous glow. He wouldn’t be the first to try. 

After a moment, he drops his head again, this time staring at his own hands. “What will happen to me?” The night turns quiet after his last, muttered statement.

Just then, he’s startled by a small hand stretching over to pat him companionably on the back of his gauntlet and as he looks down at you once more, he sees a solemn smile pushing at your cheeks that makes you appear far older than usual. “You will stay who you are,” you urge him, giving his arm a gentle but insistent shove, “Not a perfect soldier, but a good man.” 

It is a sentence the massive, battle-scarred angel has never heard. His hands slide briefly off the railing, shocked that a human had just flipped the script on him. All his life, he’d heard it the other way around. 

It should have stung that you don’t consider him a perfect soldier, but it doesn’t. Because - and this hit him like a kick in the teeth - being called a good man somehow felt a whole lot better. He just didn’t know it, because he’d never heard it. 

—

Abaddon, holding a sword to your chest: Tell me the location of War, you mortal piece of shit!

You, deadpan: Can you feel your heart burning? Can you feel the struggle within? The fear in me is beyond anything your soul can make. You cannot kill me in a way that matters.

Abaddon, hands shaking, pressing the sword against your heart: I’m not fucking scared of you!

#Vulgrim and Usiel's are so deep and then Abaddon's is just like LD #darksiders #darksiders 3 #source: legend of zelda #source: captain america

[atethewriting]

Two Healers And A Fire Mage: The Fourth

This is a collaborative project with @jongins-laceglove. We hope you enjoy the fourth part of this, as we work very hard on it.

“What I saw wasn’t the feather...what I saw...I saw our death.” Mark nervously sobbed, clenching his fists out of frustration.

Chenle shook his head where he stood next to Jisung, shaking his head and scoffing.

“Please, I’m NOT going to die.” He looked at Yixing and Minseok, a slight look of worry in his eyes. “Besides... it’s not like this is the first time he’s molted, and he hasn’t done anything that would insinuate that.. right?”

Yixing nodded to no one in particular, seemingly deep in thought. “Yeah, right.. which is why I don’t understand.”

He looked up to Chenle, about to add something to that thought- but froze when he saw Jisung sniffling as he clung to Chenle, who’s tail was lazily wrapped around his waist protectively.

“What are you doing here Jisung?! You’re supposed to be with Renjun!” He fumed, jumping up from his spot and stomping over to him.

“I-I’m Sorry, Yixing..” he said, looking away nervously. “I just..” he took a shaky breath “a strange man who goes by Johnny.. he’s from Xymore, I guess... and I figured that was a good enough reason to come back.” He said as his hand nervously clenched and unclenched on Chenle’s hip.

Yixing nodded reluctantly, deciding that was a good enough deciding to pull out his chapstick, applying a few layers and wandering back to his spot on the floor.

And, speaking of the devil, Johnny entered the cabin with a strange look in his eye. He quickly glanced at the group before allowing the youngest Fairy and the peppermint deer to enter.

The guard bowed politely, a nervous smile on his face.

“I would take shelter,” He spoke darkly, closing the door behind him, “We saw a forest fire coming from the Eastside. It’s quick, we have to hurry.”

Thud.

“HOLY FUCK HE’S DEAD,” Haechan yelled, looking at an unconscious Mark, who was now on the floor.

One by one, everyone dropped like flies. First Mark, then Chanyeol, Johnny, Jaehyun, Suho, Baekhyun, Fairy Jisung, Mouse Jisung, tiger Chenle, porcelain Renjun, and Minseok. Only 3 remained, that being Peppermint, Haechan, and Yixing.

Chenle, too tired to process anything at the moment, clung to Yixing and fell back to sleep.

Yixing sighed in exasperation, the stress finally catching up to him as he carried Chenle over to the couch so he can sleep more peacefully.

“Are you kidding me?! Why can’t we just get a break!”

He walked tiredly over to the open front door, deciding to walk outside.

His eyes widened as he saw a ball of fire seemingly shrink- before it imploded, and oh god there was a giant wall of fire coming straight for them.

He quickly pulled a forcefield around himself and the house, so as to try and keep everyone as safe as possible.

“FUCK!” He screamed, collapsing as he felt his insides burn do to the heat as it finally reached them- the flames licking at the barrier he put up.

And, just as soon as it started, it was over.

《㊂》

Renjun shuddered as he awoke, freezing. He looked up to the sky, his eyes taking in beautiful moon and stars in the sky.

“Huh... I wonder how long I was asleep? Oh well.”

He sat up, looking around for clothes to wear- as he had burned all of his and noticing the way the lake bubbles and leg of steam.

Groaning, he stretched as he moved to walk across the rock path in the water.

As he was about to leave the clearing- he noticed a bag of clothes with a note taped to it.

‘These are in case you finish your molting when we’re away and incapable of helping you out- sorry if we are gone.

-Yixing’

He chortled at this, folding up the note and slipping it into the pouch on the front of the bag before he pulled out the close and put them on.

He picked up the bag, sliding it over his shoulder and nearly completely missing the glowing, levitating feather that sat above the lake.

He scoffed, thinking he was hallucinating. He rubbed his eyes, and walked closer to the lake- picking up a rock and throwing it at the feather to test it, his eyes widening as the rock disintegrated.

He jumped when he heard Chanyeol’s voice in his head “Hey! You wake up?”

He looked around, trying to see where he was.

“Chanyeol-?”

“No, I’m not a ghost. By the way, everyone passed out when you completed your molting process!” His voice echoed, all too cheery for Renjun’s liking.

“What the hell? You sound happy about that.. anyways, what did you want?”

Chanyeol let out a hearty sigh. “Well.. we’re all kind of concerned. Some nonsense about the legend of this Phoenix feather and it destroying worlds and stuff.. but anyways, I think the house almost burnt down.. we all got knocked out, but I think we’re gonna wake up soon- considering I can communicate with you.”

Renjun stared at the feather with wariness swimming in his eyes. He shook his head, and his wings suddenly appeared, and he took a running start, leaping into the air and flying up to grab the feather.

He thought it’d burn, but surprisingly it didn’t.

He hovered there for a second, noticing how eerily quiet it was aside from the sound of his own wings. He looked at the rings of fire that spread out from where he sat- and he was shocked. Had he done this? Was this his fault? Well... only one way to find out.

He suddenly went higher up, and turning and taking off in the direction of his cabin.

Haechan stepped outside, looking at the ash that flew up from the ground and the fire that surrounded them. The Fairy went to the very edge of the force field, splicing a part of it open.

The fire raged in his face, screaming and crying. The fire had a soul, every fire does.

“It’s scared,” Haechan allowed the flames to flare around his body, yet he remained completely calm. “From what I know...Ah, yes. Phoenixiven, goddess of wood and fire. You’re her pack of beagles, aren’t you?. You don’t have to be afraid, little ones,” He then sliced open more of the force field, the flames swirling around him as they calmed. The mage giggled as fire pressed against his skin, falling down as 17 beagles - completely made of fire - jumped around him. “Honeysap, Foxfire, Lastgate...they’re all here. Whoa...”

Minseok squinted, sitting up and holding his head as he tried to calm his racing mind, looking around and saw several others doing the same.

Chanyeol shook his head, trying to get focused before his eyes went white for a second as he tried to locate Renjun.

“He should be here momentarily.” He announced loudly as shifted to grab Baekhyun’s sleeve, tugging him to the corner to talk to him about something.

Minseok could hear, of course, what with his Griffin hearing.

He felt wrong for eavesdropping- for a few seconds, at least.

“Listen, baek... When we were regaining our consciousness, I was able to contact Renjun..”

He ears Baekhyun let out an acknowledging hum.

“I think... I think I saw that feather.. you know, the one they’re saying eradicated that world?” He heard Chanyeol whisper with a shaky voice.

Minseok looked over to him in shock in horror, and Chanyeol caught it, clearing his throat and walking away awkwardly but still managing to do so quickly.

Yixing walked back outside from checking on the others to see Haechan with- wait, were those fire dogs-? How,, odd... anyways, his attention was suddenly pulled away when he saw Renjun whoosh past them- trying to find a good place to land.

He was so happy to see that he’d survived, for a second there he really thought he’d died...

He let the forcefield down, and Renjun landed, almost immediately, right in front of him with a giant smile.

Mark weakly sat up. Small, pained creaks moved through the darkly colored floorboards, moaning softly for help. The Elf felt his chest wildly heat up like he was being stabbed from the inside of his body. That heat clawed up his body and through his throat, being set free. Mark collapsed once more as he saw his entire life flash before his eyes.

And then, nothing.

「四」「四」「四」

A grim whisper in Mark’s ear caused him to jolt awake, his eyes were wide and fearful. Black shadows scattered around the empty house, laughing and mocking.

Her lips were painted heavily with darkly twisted malice, red stripes falling down her chin. The woman sat on Mark’s lap, her golden eyes burning into his forehead. Hair made of flames tightly tied into a messy bun atop her head. Along with big, tan, ram horns curled on the side. She didn’t speak a word.

“Uhm...hi?” Mark questioned, the pounding headache he had hissing at him.

The woman held up a rope, red with blood and anxiety. Behind her, a monster as black as licorice with a smile as grim as death. Glass fell from the ceiling and melted into the floor while every shadow and monster slowly disappeared.

Buildings as exquisite and tall reached up through the ground, collapsing the cabin they were in. The rubble then sank into the glass undergrowth, leaving the woman and elf in an endless city of sand and glass.

“Do you...recognize this place?” She spoke, her voice broken and laced with bad intent.

“Yeah, but I can’t tell you where I’ve seen it.”

“Mark, Mark my dear...this is your mind. Do you not recognize...me?”

“I don’t...sorry...” He flinched as the woman reached her hand up to his face, cupping his left cheek softly. Tears, red with sorrow, fell down her fragile skin.

“How nice it is to see you once more...”

“I don’t know, lady. I think you’ve got the wrong Mark. I’ve never seen you in my life.”

“Mark...Mark...”

“What? What?”

“Come on Mark...wake up!”

A flash of light covered his eyes before he slowly awoke from a deep slumber. His entire group of friends all surrounded him, including a very unhappy looking Suho. He was currently on the couch under a soft quilt.

“Mmmm...” Mark groaned, squinting.

“He’s alive!!” Peppermint yelled, running over to our Phoenix and tugging him towards Mark. “Come on, Renjun, say hi!!!”

Renjun smiled at him, walking over to the couch slowly.

“Are you okay?” He muttered, sitting down on the floor next to him.

Yixing inhaled, wanting to say something- probably a really in-depth medical description, which none of them wanted to deal with at the moment.

All of them glared at Yixing, the poor unicorn shrunk in on himself, resorting to just fussing over Mark in the background.

The Elf sat up. His entire world spun, flashing lights spotted his vision. The woman with malice lips stood in the corner of that room. Even though he was very low on strength, Mark shot up at the sight of the woman and stumbled over to the corner where she resided. Blinking, she began to disappear, small whispers leaving Mark’s mouth as he collapsed once more. Luckily, Xiaojun caught him.

“He’s weak. I would suspect he’s close to death. Yixing, do you know his health status at the moment? Is that why you’re worrying?” Jaehyun boomed in his regular confident voice, “Is he low on magic?”

Yixing nodded absent-mindedly, trying to figure out how to help.

Something in his brain clicked, and he stared at the way Mark wobbled, eyes going back and forth between him and the Sosto that refused to leave his side.

“You guys said that these little guys were extinct on Xymore, right..? Why is that...” he mumbled thoughtfully, vaguely gesturing to the small creature.

Jaehyun’s expression grew dark, as well as Haechan’s and Jisung’s. In fact, everyone from Xymore suddenly seemed increasingly annoyed by the comment. An eerie silence filled the room, being broken by Haechan.

“Why would it matter to you?” The fairy growled, “Stop being so nosy.”

“How about you stop being so suspicious?” A dark figure in the doorway spoke, his voice twisted with ignorance and selfishness.

Sharp eyes peered around the room, landing on our very poor Porcelain Boy. The man grinned. He looked familiar, and that’s because he was. His doppelgänger was right in front of him, nervously shaking.

“God. All of your fucking thoughts are cowardly. Especially yours,” He pointed to Porcelain, nearing closer. Black ropes reached out of the man’s long, cloth sleeve, wrapping around Renjun’s porcelain body.

It was quick.

A scream and he was gone. Renjun was dead. A pile of his broken body rests on the floor.

The man then bowed with an innocent smile, sending shivers down even the toughest of spines.

“Hello!~ I’m Lay!~ Well, this group is awfully lively! Thank you for catching me up in your minds, I may have an idea as to where this friend of yours is. I believe I even know his name! Kai, does that ring a bell?”

Yixing sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Really? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Now we have to deal with two me’s too..” he mumbled, agitated and stressed.

Other than Yixing’s momentary outburst, there were no other noises or sounds- until Renjun let out a sudden choked sob.

Renjun was on the ground, slumped over next to Renjun as his trembling hands caressed his face, tears soaking his neck and chest.

He glared up at Lay, his eyes burning a blood-red as he stood up on wobbly legs, trembling in fury.

“You dare come to MY house... KILL someone in it... and mention THAT bastard’s name..” he spits on the floor in front of Lay- making Yixing wince.

Chanyeol jumped and shrieked as he heard a loud explosion from outside- and when he checked to see what it was, his eyes widened in fear.

“I-um, Minseok? There’s kind of a big wall of fire-“ Chanyeol was cut off by Renjun’s furious scream, as his entire body was suddenly overtaken in flames, and the whole house tumbled and shook.

Renjun’s knees buckled from underneath him, and he passed out after burning over half of the massive forest in one fell swoop.

Haechan quickly sprung into action, running outside and staring at the massive forest fire. The Fairy ran straight into the heart of it, calming the flames before they got even angrier.

A large, fiery bull formed out of the disaster. It looked pissed, to say the least. Haechan backed away into the clearing, where the bull charged him.

Meanwhile in the cabin. . .

Jaehyun held Lay in a tight chokehold, hot tears brimming from his eyes. A million colorful emotions spilled out of the man’s soft lips, painting a field of sunflowers and lilacs on an eggshell canvas. Lay was violently flung into the ground, not a single word leaving his mouth. Jaehyun’s expression then softened, peering around the room to make sure everyone was okay. Mark and Renjun were not, but that could easily be solved with a good nap.

“How dare you speak that forbidden name in this household. Do us a favor and get the h- I can’t. I’m...I’m...we need you...unfortunately. Just...stay on your best behavior or I’ll kill you as many times as I need to.” Jaehyun sighed, making his way over to our Phoenix, whomst lay on the floor in sorrow. He lightly shook him awake, finally making up his mind. “Someone find a way to wake Mark up. I have an idea.”

Xiaojun rest Mark on the ground, where his Sosto sat on his chest. It barked and turned a glowing gold, cuddling into the Elf. Slowly but surely, he became conscious, sitting up and hugging the ball of fluff.

“We need to divide into teams. Haechan isn’t here right now but we’ll inform him later. Each team will have a different job. Now, I did the math and figured we now have 16 people. That would be four groups of four. Team 1 will consist of Deer Chenle, Mouse Jisung, Baekhyun, and Johnny. Team 2 will be me, Xiaojun, Renjun, and Yixing. Team 3 will be Haechan, Mark, Lay, and Minseok. Team 4 will be everyone else,” Jaehyun spoke, very confident in his idea, “I plan to get out tomorrow morning, if possible. The reason I’m splitting into teams is that small groups work better. T1 will scout out an area to do this procedure. T2: find and retrieve that feather. T3, your job is to give any warning that danger is on its way. And T4, you guys will stay with T3 in case the danger is there and now. How does that sound?”

They nodded, listening to Jaehyun intently.

Jisung clapped his hands, swiftly bouncing around the room excitedly.

“When do we start?” He chirped out, before squeaking as Baekhyun practically attacked him, a blur of claws and hissing.

Chanyeol rolled his eyes before reaching down, grabbing Baekhyun by the back of his shirt and pulling him up.

Minseok cleared his throat, pushing himself off the wall from the corner where he stood previously.

“I have a few friends that I trust I might be able to call... If you think it’d even help.” He muttered half-heartedly, averting his gaze from the crowd of people.

“We could use extra people on team 4, can they fight?” Jaehyun smiled, helping Lay off of the ground.

Haechan entered back inside, dragging two men by the hair. He had a tighter grip on the one with longer hair.

“I found these fuckers.”

“Let us go, idiot!” One of them snapped at the Fairy’s hand, causing him to let go.

The other only snarled and glared, trying to shake his way out, which he eventually did.

“Never thought I’d see the day that Yuta and WinWin would tolerate each other like this,” Johnny laughed, while Mark and Peppermint seemed unamused.

“Yah, what are they doing here?” The younger sassed towards a very confused Yuta. A certain glare in Peppermint’s one eye spoke horrible and violent anger. It was an emotion that Life children rarely ever felt. But, here it was, knocking on Life’s front door. “Why should a Witch hunter and a thief like him ever step foot into a place like this?”

Sicheng snarled at the deer, about to lunge at him to claw out his only eye before Yuta grabbed his wrist and purred at him, trying (and barely succeeding) to calm him down.

Minseok scoffed that them and walked lazily to Renjun’s coffee machine to make them both shots of espresso.

Yuta eyed him, his cat ears twitching in anticipation whine Sicheng followed him in a daze.

Minseok tsked, looking over his shoulder to announce over the noise- “Everyone, these are two of the people I mentioned just earlier, Sicheng and Yuta.” He jumped, turning back to his coffee making and walked Sicheng on the head when he tried to grab his shot a little too soon.

Mouse Jisung popped his head into the kitchen, curious.

“Why does he... listen to you?” He questioned softly as he watched Sicheng make a show of baring his teeth and growling but backing off.

“Well.. they’re both bobcat hybrids, but Sicheng has absolutely no restraint whatsoever,” Minseok grumbled through gritted teeth, handing them their shots of espresso.

He turned back to face Jisung, wiping his hands off on a towel.

“But luckily for me, he calms down after you put him in his place in a ‘show of dominance’, Which is basically just fancy talk for ‘whoever can kick his ass can control his temper.’ They're also both suckers for coffee, so that helps too.”

“Really?!” Johnny gaped, completely shocked, “Our Yuta hates that stuff! Well, he’s also dead, but whatever.”

Sudden yelling came from outside, followed by the muffled sound of a punch. Everyone drew their attention over, where a fairy and an elf were beating each other up, on the ground.

“What’s a Fairy weakass like you doing here?!” The Elf with long hair growled, throwing another punch.

“Me? What about you?! You’re SUPPOSED to be dead!!!” The Fairy yelled, springing up off the ground and running towards the steps where he saw another of himself and his worst enemy. He screamed, falling back down. “What the fucking Hell is that?!!?!”

Minseok groaned, facepalming.

“This is all too much...”

Yixing sighed, hugging him from behind and putting his chin on Minseok’s shoulder.

“I know, I know... it’s a lot to handle. Hell, a week ago everything was fine, and.. well? What even is normal anymore..” he mumbled.

Chuckling, Minseok tugged Yixing’s arms loosely, and then he let go reluctantly.

“Listen, can you do me a favor..?”

Yixing eyed him suspiciously, knowing the glint in his eyes all too well.

“Maybe... what is it?”

Minseok gave him a big gummy smile, holding his wrists cutely.

“Would you mind going to get Tae-“

“No. No, no, no, no and no. Absolutely not. I refuse to even look at the grumpy old brat. You can’t make me.” He rambled stubbornly, shaking off Minseok’s hands and crossing his arms.

Minseok whined pathetically, and playfully stomped over to the door that led outside, dragging a profusely protesting Yixing with him.

“Look at this!” He grumbled, pointing dramatically to the group of arguing people.

Yixing rolled his eyes at his friend, and in return pulled him over to the bathroom.

“Just draw the asshat a bath for me so that when I get back he isn’t yelling at us the whole time.”

Minseok was about to protest- but when he turned around all that was left behind of Yixing was the fine glitter that slowly floated to the ground before disappearing.

Yixing teleported to Taeyong’s house, and he looked around for him but he was nowhere to be found.

This is the part where you would assume a normal human would be out running errands, right?

Wrong.

Taeyong was a rude, grumpy, antisocial bitch and he refused to go anywhere unless absolutely necessary.

Yixing heard faint splashing coming from Taeyong’s bathroom, and he rolled his eyes.

Just great.

He forcefully opened the door, and Taeyong gasped, inhaling water from where he was fully encased in sudsy water from the mouth down.

“What the... fuck. Yi-Yixing you rude fuck why are you- why are YOU here.” Taeyong rasped out between choked coughs as he stood up and grabbed his towel.

Yixing leaned against the door, glaring at him.

“Minseok made me come. He wants you at Renjun’s.”

The alligator growled at him and clawed at him furiously before Yixing grabbed his wrists, tired of his tantrum.

“Don’t make me do it,” Yixing grunted, trying to restrain the frustrated alligator as he blindly tried to clamp down onto his arm.

Taeyong let out a blood-curdling snarl and came threateningly close to biting Yixing’s shoulder.

“Fine.... you asked for it.” He strained reluctantly as he reached up quickly with one hand and tickled under Taeyong’s chin.

Taeyong yelped, jumping away from Yixing as he slipped and nearly fell- but Yixing pulled him up by a tattooed hand and in an instant, they were at Renjun’s cabin.

Winwin took a quick glance at Taeyong before spotting Peppermint. His eyes widened as he sprinted over to the small deer, hugging him and checking for more injuries. 

“Wait a minute...” Mark spoke suddenly, “If I’m not mistaken...Wait...holy fuck...Okay, everyone. No more of your Dalryion people. I think I figured this out. When one of yours comes in contact with us, ours appears. At this point, we may not have enough magic to get us back, so let’s keep this group and this group only.”

Small murmurs spread throughout the room, some in agreement and some in disagreement. Both Yuta’s seemed annoyed with each other, silently arguing about how to treat Winwin/Sicheng. The Jisung’s were giving nasty glares to each other, and the Chenle’s were playing a game of Go while Winwin watched closely. No one seemed focused, which was the biggest problem.

“So, there’s gonna be another Taeyong?” Jaehyun asked, looking at Mark even though Johnny was the one who replied. 

“Our Taeyong, for that matter. I just hope he’s okay...” 

“How did you guys find your way here so quickly? I mean, Yuta and Win...Win?” Yixing asked quietly, averting his attention from the others. 

“A Fairy’s first instinct is to go into a forest. How the elves got here on their own, I have no clue...” Haechan sat on the couch, thinking for a bit. 

Without any warning, (Elf, mind you) Yuta charged at Winwin and tackled him. A small yelp left the Fairy, who was startled by the other’s action. 

“YutaaAAAaaA!!~~” Winwin kicked and screamed, quickly leaving his grip. He then got up and acted like nothing happened. 

Taeyong felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around to see his own self. There were a few differences. This Taeyong had bright red hair, was a bit shorter, and just looked like a whole mess. Out of habit, the redhead clung to his dopplëganger. 

“Hullo me...” He whispered, not wanting to look anyone in the face right now. 

Alligator Taeyong snarled at his doppelgänger, prying his hands off of him with a look of terror in his eyes.

“G-get off me! Don’t touch me-“ he growled as he shoved him off, making his doppelgänger fall over and land on his bloody hands in his haste.

Yixing gasped and ran over to pick the poor thing up.

“Are you okay?” He mumbled, hugging him tight and caressing his hands, trying to heal them as he glared at alligator Taeyong, his green hair bright and distracting as ever, his heterochromia blue and green eyes staring into Yixing’s soul as he backed away in horror.

Chanyeol stepped closer to Mark, talking to him more about the situation at hand.

Minseok walked over to Taeyong hastily and he reached for his wrist, only to be scratched hard and deep.

He winced, flinching away.

“Look, Taeyong. You’re fine. They won’t hurt you, now look at me.”

Taeyong’s scared eyes flicked between Minseok and his doppelgänger who was trembling in Yixing’s arms.

“That’s it... just breathe for a sec, okay? Now just come to the bathroom, the bath is full of hot water an-“

Minseok wasn’t even able to finish his sentence before Taeyong took off for the bathroom, slamming the door shut.

The remaining Taeyong nervously looked around the room and all the people in it, cowering under it all. He then spotted Johnny near the stairs and bolted over to him, clinging on and not letting go. 

“Johnny...too many people...scary...” 

“I know, I know. I know it’s scary, Taeyongie. But, think about it. You stood up to me and Yuta. Do you know how strong that makes you? You came across two scary guards who had the power to get you into huge trouble yet you did what you thought was right. I think that’s pretty tough. A few people should be nothing,” Johnny smiled, fixing Taeyong’s hair. 

“That was one time, though...I-I don’t know if I can do it again...W-what if they make fun of me...” He replied quietly. 

“They won’t make fun of you, I’ll make sure of that.”

“Promise...?” 

“I promise.”

Taeyong turned around and looked at the group, mumbling something under his breath before introducing himself.

“I’m Taeyong, please treat me well...p-please don’t bully me...” He spoke sadly, not looking anyone in the eye and then immediately clinging back onto Johnny.

Mouse Jisung waddled up to Taeyong carefully and moved to sit cross legged on the ground about  five feet away from them.

“Hi..” he said gently, offering him a warm smile.

“I’m Jisung~! But not your Jisung. I’m a kangaroo mouse hybrid.” He muttered cutely and excitedly, pointing to his ears that he wiggled.

“I’m not going to hurt you, and neither are the rest of us.” He offered a weak smile, looking down at the floor as his eyes glazed over.

Chenle quickly padded over to him, wrapping his tail around his waist and purring loudly as he snuggled into his side.

Jisung sniffled as he smiled, eyes watering.

“I know how you feel. I was scared at first when your Johnny showed up... my Johnny bullied me relentlessly so I understand you.”

He moved to look straight at him now, offering a smile.

Suddenly there was a loud cracking sound, and when Jisung looked up, he instantly froze in fear.

Minseok moved to throw him up against a wall, seething as their Johnny simply smirked down at him, his sleek, ink-black ears laid flat against his head as he growled playfully at him.

“You bastard.. how did you find us?” Minseok snarled.

Johnny simply chuckled, bringing a strong clawed hand up to Minseok’s, prying it off his throat.

“A shame, really... I would’ve thought you guys were smarter than that. I’m a black panther after all!” He announced cockily, striding around the room, his eyes flitting over them all until they finally landed on mouse Jisung.

He chuckled out a snarl before he lunged at him, claws fully extended and ready to strike.

The classic ‘schwing’ sound of a sword being unsheathed rang throughout the room as our very noble Fairy Johnny stood in front of Jisung. The sword he held was pitch black, an aura of magic stagnant around the blade. He didn’t speak a word for a very long moment, only giving his dopplëganger a look of utter disappointment.

“What did he ever do to you?”

TO BE CONTINUED. . .

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3