#ra like where the fuck is all the sand

[green-eyedfirework]

Slade isn’t expecting visitors today, so he’s annoyed that the sound of footsteps interrupts his book.  The curtains are drawn wide to let in the sunlight, and he doesn’t bother getting off the chair.  As one of Talia’s best gladiators, he can get away with a lot more than anyone else.  He’s earned enough to buy his freedom ten times over, and Talia knows that the only reason he’s here is because he wants to be here.

It’s in her best interests to keep him sweet.  A lesson Ra’s never learned.

“Slade,” she calls out before she fully steps into view, wearing a low-cut dress typical of high class fashion and yet bristling with knives, “I’ve brought a gift.”

“I wasn’t aware I was expecting one,” Slade says, still in his seat.  There are two guards with her in addition to her personal shadow, and they’re holding someone upright between them.

“This was one a long time in waiting,” Talia smiles, and beckons the guards forward.  It takes a long time to recognize the stumbling figure between them—clad in the typical revealing silks of a bedslave, bandages wound around their torso and half across their face, ruffling dark hair.  Their head is bowed, golden cuffs around their wrists, but it isn’t until Slade spots the blue brooch clipping the silks to the unassuming black collar that he realizes who this is.

Nightwing.  Richard Grayson.  Up until recently, one of the Arena’s favorite gladiators.  And the man that killed Slade’s son.

He doesn’t realize he’s on his feet until Talia’s smile widens.  He ignores her, and stares at Grayson.  The man is gaunt where he was once gleaming, a golden young gladiator now gray and exhausted and faintly trembling.  The outline of his collarbones is starkly visible, as are the dark shadows around his visible eye.  Grayson lifts his head to meet Slade’s gaze, expression cool and blank, and there’s no fire in that startlingly blue eye.

He looks like someone walking to their executioner.

“And what’s the gift?” Slade asks sharply.  He heard of Grayson’s loss weeks ago, a startling upset with one of Talia’s young gladiators, and the Arena had voted to spare him.  He assumed that Talia would’ve used Grayson in one of the games she was always playing to catch Lord Wayne’s attention, not bring him here.

To the first person in the country who wanted to tear him apart.

Talia smiles, and gestures to Grayson.  There’s a flicker of something in Grayson’s eye that fades to blankness.  It isn’t quite resignation or quiet placidity.  It’s a mask, and Slade’s itching to tear it off his face.

“He’s yours,” she says.  For what?  For a night, a day, a week, a fuck, a beating, a—“to do with whatever you wish.  Keep him or kill him, I do not care.  His fate is yours.”

Slade blinks.  This time, the fracture across Grayson’s mask spreads wider before it’s suppressed.  Before Slade can fully understand what’s going on, his cell door is opened and Grayson is none-too-gently shoved inside.

“Have fun,” Talia laughs, smirking at Grayson before she walks away, “Goodbye, Richard.”

Grayson doesn’t say a word.  Soon, the guards and Talia are beyond hearing, and the heavy weight of the silence is the only thing there.  Silence, and Slade staring at the single person he’s wanted to tear apart for years.

He takes a step forward.  Grayson presses back against the bars, clearly trembling now, expression fighting to be blank but panic too hard to fully conceal.  He’s trapped in a corner and there’s nowhere to go and Slade stalks forward with all the time in the world.

“Nothing to say?” Slade asks, because he’s been waiting for this moment for so long, stoking the fires of his vengeance year after year, waiting for Wayne to finally buckle and schedule a fight between them, and in his dreams, Nightwing turns to Icarus, the boy that flew too close to the sun.  And Nightwing dies, red spilling across the sands.

Now it looks like the wax wings burned on the way off but didn’t manage to take him with it, and Grayson’s thinner than he usually is, lost muscle and new scars and no matter how fiercely he tries to manage his expression, there’s a brightness he can’t quite mimic.

“Is there anything to say?” Grayson asks, voice hoarse, “You’re going to kill me.  I don’t have a speech for pretty last words.”  Defiant but weary.

This is a pale imitation of the golden, gleaming young gladiator that raised bloody dual swords to the roar of an Arena, triumphant over his son’s corpse, and frustration abruptly washes over Slade.

“Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself?” Slade growls, and he’s close enough to wrap a hand around Grayson’s throat and yank him away from the bars.  “Do you really think that I’ve been dreaming of killing you for years only to give you the mercy of a quick death?”

Grayson does attempt to defend himself, long-ingrained fighting instincts unable to let him truly surrender, no matter how much resignation he feigns, but Slade flings him at the floor to avoid the retaliatory swipe.

That Grayson falls is the first surprise.  The man has preternatural grace.  Slade quickly calculates that the bandages across his right eye are the culprit, as are whatever injuries he’s hiding, but the thought is pushed aside when Grayson hits the ground.

Because he screams, actually, open-mouthed, screams, voice cracking in a way that indicates precisely why it’s so hoarse, and immediately rolls over to curl up on his side, gasping and shaking and nearly clawing at the floor.

That isn’t a minor injury.  That is—

Slade’s not an idiot, not a mindless brute tearing people apart because he knows nothing else, no matter how much the impression suits him.  He used to be in the military, used to command, used to strategize, and he’s spent years watching lords and ladies play their games.

It’s a fact that Grayson displeased Talia in some way, she would’ve given him back to Wayne otherwise.  Dropping him in Slade’s lap means Grayson’s only coming out of the cell as a bloody ruin.  So Talia got her money’s worth, sold Grayson to everyone that’s wanted a piece of the charming young gladiator, until—until someone damaged him so badly that Talia wouldn’t even try putting him back together.

Slade grabs that ridiculous brooch and uses it to lift Grayson off the floor.  Grayson’s struggles are weak, and they cut out with a choked sound when Slade drops him on the bed.  Slade finds the nearest knife.

Grayson sees the light glinting off the blade, reflected in his too-wide blue eye, and squeezes that eye shut.  Stops breathing too.

Slade carefully slides the knife under the bandages and slices them all free.

The outer layer comes unwrapped easily, the cloth wrapped around Grayson’s head to keep it in place.  The second layer is more packed together, but comes undone with a few more cuts.  It’s the third layer that’s plastered to Grayson’s skin, and Grayson starts making those quiet sounds again, as if he’s trying not to shout.

It comes off, tugging at every inch of Grayson’s skin, to reveal a brilliantly red slash extending from just below Grayson’s right cheekbone to disappear into his hairline.  In its path lies an empty eye socket.

One visible blue eye stares at him, glimmering and wide.

When Slade places the knife right under it, he gets the first true glimpse of terror.

~#~

Grayson is sitting on the edge of the bed by the time Slade steps through the curtain, a book in one hand but clearly alert.  Aware of how long gladiatorial training takes, aware that Slade is back too soon, wary and—

His entire face brightens when their visitor steps past Slade.  Any thought Slade had of keeping himself between the two is thrown out the window when Grayson pushes himself upright and nearly throws himself at Hood with a cry of “Jaybird!”

Hood catches him and clutches him close, spilling a long string of half-choked apologies, and now Slade’s curiosity is burning.  Hood is murmuring “sorry,” over and over and over again, and Grayson is shushing him, and there’s a familiarity there that Slade hadn’t expected.  Sure, he knows that Hood was trained alongside Grayson, before he went out to a match he wasn’t prepared for and became Talia’s, but Hood’s bitterness for his former master and all Wayne’s gladiators is fairly well known.

Until now.

“It’s okay,” Grayson finally says loudly, squeezing Hood tightly in a hug, “It’s okay, Jay, it’s not your fault, and I’m fine, I’m okay.”

Well, that was a lie.  Hood clearly knows it as well because he disentangles enough to look Grayson in the face—and blanches.  “What happened?” he says quietly, cupping the side of Grayson’s face that’s still bandaged, “Your face—your eye—” Quick as a flash, Hood turns on Slade with a snarl, “What did you do to him, you bastard—”

“Jason, stop!” Grayson gets between them, his back to Slade, holding Hood’s shoulders, “Slade didn’t do anything to me, calm down.”

The light in Hood’s eyes is a little less manic when his gaze drops to Grayson.  “If it wasn’t him, then who?” Hood snaps.  Grayson doesn’t immediately answer.  “Dick.”

Slade crosses his arms and waits.  Grayson didn’t tell him the full story, but it’s easy—“Sionis,” Grayson exhales.

Enough to guess.

Hood’s face runs a full gamut of emotions in half a minute.  “Talia’s blacklisted Roman,” Hood says slowly, “That because of you?”

Grayson makes a weak smile and shrugs, “Difficult to do business with a man that insists on destroying your things.”

“Fucking hell, Dick,” Hood curses roundly, “Why the fuck—you can’t—stop trying to save me!”

The last one comes out as a shout, and far too loud.  Grayson’s pressed his lips in a thin line, Hood’s eyes are flickering, and the silence is heavy and tense.

Both of them flick a glance towards Slade.  “Don’t stop on my account,” he says mildly, “This is the most entertainment I’ve gotten all month.”

“Can we get a moment?” Hood asks, on the verge of rudeness.

“You paid for a visit,” Slade points out, “Not privacy.”

Grayson steps smoothly in front before Hood can retort, and asks quietly, “Can we purchase privacy then?”

Slade flicks a glance at Hood, who’s nearly vibrating in place, and Grayson, tense and desperate, and the way their hands are locked together, firm and tight.  He pushes off the wall and heads for the curtain, “Fine.”

“How much?” Hood calls out.

Slade smirks before he lets the curtain close behind him, “You get to find out.”

He ends up waiting outside the cell, absently sharpening a knife, hearing a low murmur too quiet to make out distinct words.  At one point, Hood’s voice rises into a tirade about Grayson’s intelligence and common sense, but it’s quickly hushed.  It’s close to the half hour when Hood comes stomping out.

“Well?” Hood crosses his arms, “What’s the price?”

Slade arches an eyebrow, “You’re not the one who has to pay.”

For a moment, he thinks Hood’s going to punch him.  The younger gladiator squeezes his hands into fists and his glare is vicious enough to set something on fire.  “If you hurt him—”

“What, Hood?” Slade cuts him off, “What will you do?  You can’t stop me, and Talia won’t stop me, so explain to me how exactly you propose to protect him?”  Hood is vibrating in place, a murderous statue.  “If you threaten me again, I won’t be so obliging to the next deal you want to make.”

The paleness is from fury and fear both, and Hood keeps his mouth shut as he roughly stomps past Slade.  Slade watches him go until his footsteps stop sounding, and then heads back inside.

Grayson is waiting for him, again sitting on the bed, hands crossed in his lap, gaze fixed on Slade.  “What is the price?” he asks quietly.  Evenly, for all that he’s tense and clearly scared.

“Answer some questions,” Slade says, taking the chair, “Honestly.”

Grayson looks suspicious.  “What questions?”

“What did Hood mean when he told you to stop trying to save him?”

Grayson purses his lips but deflates, leaning back, clearly resigned.  “It’s not really a secret,” he sighs, “I threw the match.”

It takes a second for Slade to comprehend.  “You threw it,” he repeats, “You threw the match.”

Grayson shoots him a half-irritated look, “I wasn’t going to kill Jay.”  Something crosses over his face, a flicker of the death that still hangs between them, the dead boy that Slade wants to avenge.  “And I—I knew they wouldn’t vote for my death,” Grayson says quietly, “Jay—I couldn’t take that risk.”

On the surface of it, it makes sense—Grayson’s made a name for himself, been pretty and charming at every sponsor that flits his way, there’s no way they’d let him die without extracting their pound of flesh.

“And Sionis?” Slade asks.

At this, Grayson’s face twists.  His gaze drops, and Slade doesn’t know if he’s doing it consciously, but his hair drifts over the bandages, as if to conceal it.  “Sionis—has his preferences.”

“And Talia whores out the gladiators that aren’t doing well.”

Grayson’s expression twists further.  “Unless she had reason to doubt his self-restraint,” he says quietly, and Slade can see it.  Can see Grayson provoking Sionis until the man lashed out with a wound too egregious to ignore.  Lashings, brutality, blood and pain?  Fine, when it could all be concealed under shifting silks, and everyone wanted scars on a gladiator.

But a missing eye on one of the Arena’s prettiest warriors?  No, even Talia al Ghul, with all her animosity, couldn’t ignore that that was a step too far.

“Regardless of whether or not it worked, you had to know she would kill you for it,” Slade says.

Grayson doesn’t look him in the eye when he responds, “Talia was clear on my eventual fate from the very first day.”

Slade blinks.  With that interesting piece of information, Grayson shifts up the bed, until he can lean against the wall, and cracks open his book.  He doesn’t say anything else.

#my snippets #sladick #gladiator au #mutilation #prisoner

[commenter2]

The Show Must Go On episode review (Hazbin Hotel S1 finale)

The finale of season 1 of Hazbin Hotel. MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW! Also long post warning

Did the title of the episode strangely remind anyone else of the failed videogame “Showdown Bandit”? Anyone?

Charlie wishing her mom was there. Likely foreshadowing her appearing near the end.

Charlie really likes a man in uniform. Maybe take some notes on that Vaggie XD.

Looks like we got a glimpse at how Niffy sees the world, which is apparently similar to Randy Cunningham when as the Ninja.

Again CHARLE=PURITY

I’m not liking how Pentious said that quote about living and dying.

During Al’s speech, you can see Charlie realizing that Pen likes Cherri and being happy for him. Charlie is Pen X Cherri shipper confirmed XD

Could Al be really starting to care about the others?

Angel X Husk and Pen X Cherri fanservice, Charlie liking the last one XD

Oh now Cherri is interested in Pen.

COME ON, KISS YOU TWO! YES!!!

Gross, Adam’s personality is rubbing off on Lute. Even Adam is getting uncomfortable with it and considering its Adam that’s saying something.

The Heaven Bucks things sounds really fake, mostly cause I feel like money doesn’t exist/is necessary for Heaven.

WHAT THE HECK ARE THOSE OUTFITS CHARLIE AND VAGGIE ARE WEARING!?! And why am I getting She-Ra/RWBY vibes from them? Also Charlie is wearing her crown, cute.

I’m intrigued by Charlie’s shield cause I was kind of expecting to see Charlie use her pitchfork along with it, but the shield is still a nice bit of symbolism for how she wants to protect people and not harm anyone…that much. It also shows that she and Vaggie are a great team/couple as Charlie is the defense while Vaggie is the offense.

My fellow DEATH BATTLE fans (which is hopefully a lot of you) get ready to analyze Charlie’s powers, skills, and feats in this fight!

Al’s shield being another feat of how powerful Alastor is, though I wonder if his recent deal with Charlie helped with it?

Aww come one Niffty finally has a chance to go all psycho and all we see is her just stabbing corpses!

While Charlie’s crown is black on the outside, its gold on the inside/other side. Not only do I think this is a Dante’s Inferno reference (it reminds me of the hypocrites’ part but reversed) it also symbolizes how even though she is the daughter of the Devil, Charlie is still a good person.

Alastor’s using shadow jutsu!

OK I DID NOT SEE AL’S VOICE CHANGING after his cane got destroyed. At least this explains how those times I noticed his voiced changed in previous episodes.

Valentino was really saddened when Vox said seeing Alastor about to die was better then sex XD. It’s also funny cause there is a similar line in Netflix’s Castlevania series, which I could definitely see fans making parodies of soon.

Wait WTF is going on now with his voice? Ugh.

That’s our Charlie, even when in a war she is still apologizing. Also her glitter is WAY more effective than Dale Gribble’s pocket sand XD

Also if you slow down the scene enough, you can see that Charlie’s shield damaged and dented the angelic spear, meaning its likely made of something stronger then the angelic steel mentioned by Carmilla in “Hello Rosie”

Charlie shooting fireworks from her fingertips, a nice example of her powers AND a callback to the pilot.

NO NOT THE EGGBOIS! Luckily Angel finally used his secret set of arms to save one of them, we even get to hear his theme song.

And Pen X Cherri fans REJOICED! Also again showing how shallow Cherri can be.

Aww this can’t be goWHAT THE FUCK! I couldn’t even finish writing this sentence because of how fast Pen’s death was! I mean it was implied he was going to die but I thought it be more dramatic than that! Can the Helluva Boss writers at least do this for when they finally kill Striker, or have it happen in my episode idea where Moxxie and his father in law do it?

OOO ITS TIME FOR CHALIE’S DEMON FORM. And in a Sailor Moon kind of way too.

WAIT THAT’S IT? It’s just her regular horns and a tail. The writers really need to amp up these “full demon” forms of the characters as this, Ozzie’s, and Mammon’s forms have been really disappointing to me especially when compared to Stolas and even Helsa’s odd form from the pilot. I hope that this is some kind of semi form or one of many transformations of Charlie’s, and her REAL demon form is something more monstrous but it results in her losing control.

I do like Razzle and Dazzle being dragons, as I did recall them having such a power but this is better than what I was thinking they’d transform into.

DAZZLE NO! At least he died protecting Charlie.

VAGGIE VS. LUTE ROUND 2 (ding ding sound effect from episode)

(Adam slaps Charlie) Again we need fanart of Lucifer and Lilith kicking Adam’s ass.

So a part of me likes that Vaggie spared Lute cause it shows she is better than the so called “angel”, but a part of me knows this is going to bite back later on.

Lute riping her own arm off just proves the previous statement. Still I wonder what a cyborg angel will be like.

You can control fire and shoot fireworks from your fingers, you these things to make Adam let go of you Charlie!

SO Adam is wearing a mask, like I brought up before. I wonder what he looks like under it.

I’m not mad at Lucifer coming in late, cause he likely couldn’t as he probably realized it would just lead to more problems involving Heaven, but again he shows that he is the best dad so far in the series by coming in to save Charlie. Take notes Stolas!

Huh, Adam looks pretty normal looking, even looks a bit like Lute. I was expecting something really ugly under the mask like a pale complexion, sweat, and an unshaven face especially since he has worm that the entire time we have seen him.

OH HO now were getting that Adam ass kicking. Too bad that line from Lucifer kind of ruined it. I mean I can kind of see it being on brand with his goofy personality but still.

Again no one is saying Lilith’s name here. Also I know Lucifer is likely joking about him and Eve being together and just referencing the apple, but I really want to hear Lucifer say he’s only been with Lilith for all his life, then took a break after the divorce.

“NOT THE HOTEL”, is what I would be saying if the trading cards weren’t released early. Still devastating to see.

Like when Adam was choking her, Charlie had the means to save herself there as she is confirmed to have wings. Maybe their waiting for a special occasion to use them.

(Charlie transforms) What was that? At least this confirms that Charlie can transform and confirm that hoove/foot idea I brought up in the last review. I wonder if this is some kind of power from her mother?

Okay Lucifer’s demon form is pretty good. This does make me wonder what that shadow thing of his form the pilot is, if that is still canon. Hopefully it is and it confirms that Charlie can have multiple demon forms.

Holy crap they killed Adam off and Death by Niffy no less! I mean I wanted Adam and Lute to get out of the picture so someone better could take the role of angelic antagonist, but I never thought they would just kill Adam off. At least Vaggie is really happy about this, and I don’t blame her XD. It’s nice to see her smile like this.

Again we see that Lucifer has restraint, which is still interesting.

Lute took his halo. I sense some trouble coming from this. Fingers crossed that it involves how Heaven is okay with Adam being gone, and Lute becoming the thing she hates to destroy Hell AND the “traitors” of Heaven.

I’m still mix on Katie Killjoy being voiced by Brandon. It is making me wonder if Katie was always going to be like this or if they’re altering her to be more like Brandon’s female characters like Bryce. I mean I always though Katie would have a role where she just keeps spreading bad things about Charlie’s hotel, even making things up/ hire others to cause trouble for Charlie so the news can keep reporting on her. Heck she is even thanking them which I never saw pilot Katie never doing through she could be doing it to save face on livestream television. It’s still a funny idea and it has even remined me that there was a time in animation where shows had reoccurring characters whose main thing about them was being obvious references to other fictional or even real characters like Total Drama had characters such as Harold being a Napoleon Dynamite parody and Anne Maria referencing Snooki, Dr. Orpheus from the Venture Bros. was a cheap Dr. Strange knockoff (but still really funny), and there is one character in Atop the 4th Wall that I won’t spoil here cause it’s that crazy, so check it out for yourselves when you can.

Another cameo of Baxter and ARACKNISS!

I also wonder if the Exterminations will be put to a halt here as pointed out in the sliding text on the news channel. It would be interesting to see if Hell really does have an overpopulation problem, and what that would look like.

I’m surprised the V’s aren’t reacting to this more, more so with Vox but it’s likely that he saw the fight with Adam and Alastor and now has a plan on destroying Alastor. That would be cool to see in the next season.

THANK GOD FAT NUGGETS SURIVED! I think VIvzie would have had a riot on her hands if she allowed him to die.

Lucifer said the episode title!

So it looks like Alastor DID care for the others, but now he is dedicated to getting his freedom back from what I still think could be the Lilith imposter who will also be an upcoming deadly force/threat

KeeKee has a Keyblade form!

Yeah Vox and Val are definitely going to use this news for personal gain. The real question is if Velvette will aid them, as her recording them say all this feels like she will try and go out on her own, dragging her allies down in the process. Fitting given her song from “Scrambled Eggs”.

Nice song, great that both Sir Pentious AND Dazzle got memorials, and the new hotel looks amazing as it has a little bit of symbolism from all the others like Husk’s casino vibe and Angel’s career.

PEN IS IN HEAVEN! Emily is loving it while Sera looks confused and scared, BOTH cause she has never saw this happen before or knows that this will kick off some serious consequences like a version of the Armageddon prediction. This is great as now even if the recent fan theory of Emily becoming a fallen angel happens, Charlie now has another ally in Heaven to help spread her redemption plan on that side of things, great for what I can see happening in the next season.

Oh hey everyone its “Lilith”. Yeah I still believe in the “Imposter Lilith” theory that I’ve been talking about lately, and the sunglasses bit adds to it since it is hiding her eyes, like how her face was covered in “Dad Beat Dad”. Plus there have been many times in stories where sunglasses were used to hide something in fiction. Also in the past, we’ve gotten info on her saying how she would like to fight against Heaven, so its odd that she would want sanctuary in it unless she has plans that involve her being there. The biggest clue would have to be that the real Lilith would likely have cheered when she heard Adam was dead. I did talk about how the Imposter could likely want to destroy everything, so for all we know she is pretending to be Lilith who wanted sanctuary in Heaven (if they even know she is there) which is all just a ruse to get info on how to destroy Heaven to fulfill her life’s work and if anything ever happens, the Imposter can rely on her servant Lute and the Exorcist to aid her.

I will admit that it COULD be the real Lilith. I did make a recent post on my Tumblr going over how I think Lilith actually recruited the Imposter to help her take down Heaven a peg a long item ago, but she eventually realized the Imposter had bigger plans that involved destroying everything in existence and Lilith has since been trying to stop the Imposter. At one point things could have gotten so bad to a point that she had to hide in Heaven (again if they even know she is there) until she thought of a plan to stop it like having Lute work for her (again maybe Al works for the Imposter) and similar to what I have in my “Season 1 is a test for Charlie” Lilith knew Adam wasn’t up for the task of defending everyone from the Imposter, so she had to install Lute as leader of the Exorcist so there would be at least a small capable army to fight against the Imposter/upcoming threat if things got bad. However now that Charlie’s redemption plan is getting more support and is proven to be true, Lilith could be scared that the Imposter could go after her and Lucifer next, so I think next season she will try and convince Charlie to stop her goals until they have a plan of stopping the Imposter. Maybe since she made a deal with Lute, she has no choice but to stop Charlie or risk losing the one chance they have at saving everything from the Imposter…until she learns that her daughter was able to make an army to stop the Exorcist which could lead to Lilith changing her mind and maybe think that Heaven and Hell should work together to stop the Imposter/big threat. Even then there could be consequences as we don’t know what exactly happens if a deal with a demon is ever broken. Would said demon die or would the natural of the forces of the universe go crazy until something happens? For any non Percy Jackson fans and those that don’t care about spoilers for it, look up “Trials of Apollo” and “River Styx” to get an understanding of what I mean by broken deals.

That was a GREAT episode AND a great finale for the first season of Hazbin Hotel.

We got tons of action, drama, suspense, fanservice, and mystery just like how I like my shows. The finale was really good cause its on track for what I’ve been saying I would like to see Charlie go through when it comes to the next step of trying to convince the people of Heaven and Hell her redemption plan is a good thing in general for the afterlife.

The only minor problems I have with it is that they didn’t utilize Niffty as much as I thought they would in the battle.

When it comes to the season as a whole it was great, with episode 4 being the worst as we all knew those events were coming but thanks to Helluva Boss it was made less serious to me.

I also agree with other fans that biggest problem the season had was that there should have been more episodes. I mean people know how popular Hazbin Hotel AND Helluva Boss is so it’s a bit odd that they didn’t get more then 8 episodes, especially since they aren’t the usual hour long episodes that are everywhere. Not to mention how half the season came out all at once here on Amazon Prime.

Apparently this is a big problem with Amazon Prime shows in general, BUT luckily given how well received the whole season has been (wordplay pun not intended), I’m hopeful that this will convince the people at A24 and Prime to give Vivzie and the HH cast more funding to make MORE episodes for next season, like maybe 14 this time. Sure this could delay the release of season 2, which is apparently already being made, but I bet I’m not alone when I say I’d be okay with such a delay if it means more Hazbin Hotel.

Hopefully next season though there are less trailers and clips released, another reason why there should be more episodes to help dimmish such things, AND if there is another early release on A24 it should just be like 2 days before the season comes on Amazon Prime and NOT a whole week.

I’m also calling it now that the season 2 episode premiere of Hazbin Hotel will start with a news segment with Katie Killjoy and Tom Trench recapping some of the events of last season and telling us what has happened to both the characters and Hell/Heaven since the finale. I also predict that Lilith, whether the real one or the Imposter posing as her, will appear at the end of said episode starting off that season’s main story.

I definitely want to hear your thoughts on not only this episode, but also on the entire season so don’t be shy. What do you think/hope will happen in season 2? What kind of episodes or stories would you like to see in the next season? What theories do you have?

LET ME HEAR IT!!!

#hazbin hotel #vivziepop #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel niffty #hazbin hotel sir pentious #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel lilith #hazbin hotel spoilers

[just-my-type-x]

Naked Confessions

Smut

TW: language, age gap, unprotected sex

A/N: i am well aware there are no mountains close to London, just roll with it haha, i had no idea how to set the scene

~

"We should be there in like 2 hours, according to Waze, but we all know how the estimated time works.", Tris speaks on the phone and I get inside the car, turning the ignition on.

"I don't understand why you didn't leave earlier", i hear Brad through the phone and i roll my eyes

"Because some of us attend uni, unlike others, Bradley dropout Simpson", i turn the wheel to the right to exit my driveway and a wave of laughter fills the phone speaker.

"Anyway, you bully", Brad addresses to me and i turn my head to look at Tris who was already looking at me, both of us laughing. "Give us a heads up when you're half an hour away from the villa so we'd get started on the barbecue. We're gonna get the party started till then.", we bye bye Brad and Tris hangs up, taking control of the road trip playlist.

The band agreed on having a fun get-together in the mountains, just them and their closest friends, including me. Tris and i have met when i moved to London for my high school years, where i stay to also finish college. Even tho I'm a bit younger than him, he's always told me how mature i am and how maturely i think. With time we got closer and he trusted me enough to introduce me to the boys. Years later, we're all close like siblings.

"Thank you for waiting for me. You're a real one", i smile while my eyes on the road. He chuckles.

"I wouldn't had let you come by yourself.", he smiles at me and pokes my cheek.

"Stop, you're distracting me", i laugh and check the mirrors before switching lanes. Tris changes the song to the playlist and we start vibing and singing to the lyrics of the songs we always listen to, but never get tired of.

An hour away from the villa, the roads start to get muddy and full of tiny, sharp rocks, to which my low car isn't used to driving on. I sigh as i hit the breaks lightly to not get the wheels into a massive hole in the concrete and i check the cloudy, dark sky.

"You can really tell we're close to the mountains. The sky is horrifying. It's gonna rain a lot", i state and Tris checks out the sky afterwards, nodding.

"Are you ok with driving through rain? I can take the wheel if you want", he offers but i shake my head no.

"No one touches my Mustang. I don't trust you or the others", i chuckle and he rolls his eyes, smirking.

"I love it when you're so possessive", Tristan jokes but, involuntarily, i blush.

"Shut up, I'm trying to keep my tires alive on this road", we both laugh but immediately frown when the car starts shaking left to right on the rocky road. A gust of wind hits the car, throwing towards us a massive wave of sand and dust. We both check out the trees, which bend like crazy and then we look at each other, silence speaking louder than words. "we better hurry then", i shrug my shoulders and press the acceleration, trying to save ourselves from the forming storm. As we pass a few holes on the road, a loud bang is heard, then a bunch of other noises follow. The screen in front of my wheel lights up in red, alarming me i got a flat tire. "You've got to be kidding me"

"Oh my God, no way", Tris says as he lets down the window to check if he can see the tire. I pull on the side of the road, curious other drivers checking on us. "Oh fuck, it's literally sliced", he points to a pocket made in the tire. "Who even told you a Mustang's tires are good for off-road?"

"Tristan, please shut up. This is not off road, this is fucking Waze shortcut. I didn't know these villages had so many undone roads", i massage my forehead. As if it wasn't bad enough already, we both feel raindrops on our exposed arms. "Oh fuck off", i say in vain, as Tris opens the trunk to take the spare tire and the jack.

"We better hurry then. Please help me", Tris gets on the ground, setting up the jack under the car. He starts lifting the car, when the rain starts pouring in gallons. Our clothes get soaked in a matter of seconds and as we hurry to get the part of the car with the flat tire up, the jack snaps in half. None of us says anything, we just sit in silence, looking at the broken jack, the flat tire and contemplating if my car got any more damage when it hit the ground with a loud sound. "Remind me to gift you an SUV?", Tris gets up from the ground, picking up the spare tire, putting it back in the trunk. We get back in the car, soaking the chairs, which gives me the ick and irritates me.

"Let's fucking do something because I'm not staying like this in the car.", i press my forehead on the wheel.

"Calm down for a second, I'm calling a mechanic and maybe we can get a tow truck to take us to the villa and we'll see from there", Tris puts his phone to the ear and i check my phone to see how far we are from our destination. One hour. It couldn't be a good road for one more hour. I check the weather, my mind going crazy when i see the weather warnings, massive storms and lightning storms for the next 12 hours. I close the app and check my WhatsApp massages, distracting myself from Tristan's conversation. I open the group chat and see silly photos and videos of our friends drinking and cooking and what they're cooking is a mystery because that doesn't look like food. A vocal message comes in from James and i listen to it, chuckling.

"Where are youuu, I'm losing control over these animals. I need help asap.", James says, as he's interrupted by Brad and Con screaming loudly to Queen

"You got mud on your face, you big disgrace -". I start typing "got a bit of a problem, we'll get back to you" and hit send. Tristan finishes talking and i turn my whole body to face him. I hug myself, feeling myself freeze in the car. He becomes aware of my shivering and grabs his jacket to put it around my shoulders.

"I got good news and bad news. I'm not gonna ask you the whole shit show about which one you wanna hear first, so: no one can help us today, because the storm is getting worse and no one can get here to even help us fix the tire.", i press my hands on my forehead, feeling a migraine forming,but his hands take mine away to make me look him in the eyes. "The good news is that five minutes away from here, there's a hotel. So we leave the car here, we take our luggages and come back tomorrow morning."

I sigh heavily and look outside the window, the rain looking like I'm at a car wash. We let the others know we can no longer make it tonight and none of them can help because they've been drinking and because of the weather. We take our luggages, i tie the reflective vest somewhere on the car so people wouldn't hit it and we run towards the hotel, barely seeing in front of us.

~

"I'm sorry, but we don't have enough rooms because of the storm. Everyone came running here, just like you. We only have one double room, with a king sized bed. Will you take it?", the receptionist checks on her computer and Tris and i exchange some looks before accepting the booking.

We go to our room, immediately taking hot showers one by one and changing into our pjs. I throw myself on the bed, watching Tristan walk around the room, the wind howling at the windows. He's just as agitated as me, but he actually shows it. He bites his fingers, nervously checking his phone.

"What are you expecting to happen?", i ask him when i can no longer watch him spin around the room.

"A miracle?", he jokes and i half smile at him, my eyes falling on my lap, where i nervously play with my fingers. "Hey look at me", he sits at the end of the bed and leans back on his elbows to look at me. I do as instructed and i can barely keep my eyes on his. I shake my head, blushing, looking away. "That's better", he smiles and let's himself fall on the bed, resting one of his hands on my knee because of the lack of space between us. I don't remember getting a crush on Tristan, i just remember always having him by my side and always being a gentleman with me. He was my only friend for a while and i guess, with time, we got inevitably closer and maybe this is how i started getting butterflies whenever i saw him, but i always ignored those growing feelings. Lately it's been so hard to act indifferent around him.

A bright as day lightning strikes right outside our windows, followed by a loud thunder that shakes the building, being woken up from my thoughts. I get off bed and run to the window, checking on my car that i could barely see because of the distance and rain.

"We should've tried to push it here. It would've been safer", i suggest, crossing my arms at my chest

"As mush as i enjoy seeing you wet, breaking my back pushing a car wasn't ever on my bucket list.", Tris holds himself up on his elbows, his smirk not leaving his face, his eyes scanning every part of my body.

"If you enjoy looking at me like this, at least do something about it.", i smirk back, taking him by surprise. His eyes grow wide and a light shade of pink creeps on his cheekbones. I walk slowly towards him, stopping by the end of the bed between his legs, my arms still crossed, pushing my boobs upwards, giving the impression they look bigger. Tristan's eyes follow my exposed chest, the pyjama tank top showing more cleavage than expected.

"No, don't do this to me, y/n..", his words come out almost breathlessly, as he lifts himself up to only sit on his ass. His eyes don't leave mine and i step closer, making his head go all the way back to see my face.

"Do what?", i ask innocently and i bite my lip, spreading my legs side to side of Tristan before getting down to the same level as him, still enough space between our crotches not to touch. He sucks in a breath and grabs me by the waist, gently squeezing the area, taking in a deep breath. He picks me up and moves me to the side, throwing me on the bed as he gets up.

"Don't make me do this", he motions to the bed, alluding to sex. I roll my eyes at him and turn on my belly, taking my phone trying to avoid the embarrassment of the situation.

"You have one night stands all the time, why can't i be one of the lucky girls?", i make a face even if he can't see me. He jumps back on the bed, turning me roughly on my back and pinning my arms above my head, his body on mine, legs on either side of my body and his forehead almost glued to mine.

"For how long have we known each other, y/n?", he asks almost angry. I gulp.

"Enough time, 8 years?", i ask, my eyes moving from his eyes to his lips, while his are fixated on my eyes.

"And how can you believe I'm going to have a one night stand with you? 8 years, y/n, 8 years of friendship and you think i'd ruin everything for one night?"

"Well, I'm glad to see how much you would've enjoyed that time with me. Every word you said was a delight", i ironically say and jiggle my hands. "Now, please let me go"

He let's go of my wrists and gets off me, so i make some distance between us, rubbing my forehead, sighing.

"Fuck, y/n", Tris groans and grabs me by the waist, pulling me over him and he takes my face in his hands, kissing me hard, his lips hot and plump. I rest my hands on his chest as his tongue slips in between my lips and mine matches his tongue's movements. I grip at his tshirt, the material wrinkling, and i pull at it, bringing Tris closer to my body. His hands run over my chest, ribs and belly and grips the hem of my tank top before taking it off me. We both breathe heavily and his eyes scan my exposed chest, a smirk appearing on his face and his eyes looking back into mine, he kisses me again and we take off the rest of our clothes. I get back on top of him and i grind myself on his exposed dick, earning a loud groan from him, his head falling back into the pillows. "Oh my God..", he moans and i smirk at the sight of him all turned on under me. Tris holds me by the hips and slowly moves me back and forth on his lenght, a soft cry escaping my lips. "You're so wet, princess", he moves one of his hands away from my hip and puts it between us, his fingers brushing over my clit. He matches my movements and applies more and more pressure as he circles it with his fingers. I leave out a few moans and hold myself up by resting my hands on his chest.

"oh, fuck, Tris, this feels so good", my voice breaks and he chuckles, lifting himself up. We look into each other's eyes and smile, kissing softly, then more passionately, my fingers running through his hair. He pulls away, kissing down my jaw, neck and chest, cupping my breasts in his big hands to kiss them one by one, slightly biting my nipples. "As much as i love this, i need you really badly and i want you to fuck me", my words take him by surprise and he smiles at me, leaning back on his arms.

"I love it how turned on you are, but we can't fuck tonight", i sigh, disappointed.

"Why not?"

"I didn't bring any condoms with me.", he says and i laugh. "What? Who was i supposed to fuck from our friendgroup?", he laughs as well, his voice getting higher.

"Well, i'm on the pill, is that ok with you?", i bite my bottom lip and lean closer to Tris, my face stopping inches away from his.

"I never thought you could get me this turned on to accept this right away", Tris smiles and he pulls me closer, our lips moving in sync. I take his length in my hand, keeping it still as i lower myself on it, both of us a moaning mess when i slowly take it all in, the pleasure of him stretching my walls being better than i expected. He holds me by my back, our bodies so close that we're actually hugging each other as i move myself up and down on his dick. "You're so wet, princess", his words are muffled, his face in the crook of my neck, my nails digging in his back. I increase the speed, making Tris fall on his back as he gives me access to move more. He switches our positions in the bed and i lay on my back as he holds my legs around his waist, guiding his dick back inside me. He thrusts in me hard and fast, holding himself by the headboard, and with each thrust i feel myself closer to the edge.

"I'm so close, Tris", i moan, holding him by the shoulders

"Fuck, princess, these words sound so good coming out of your mouth", he kisses under my ear and i feel goosebumps all over my body. With a few more thrusts, i become a shaking mess, cuming hard, feeling dizzy. "I'm close, are you sure?", Tris moans, checking in with me one more time. I nod in approval and he swears under his breath, thrusting faster. He cums with a loud groan, biting on my shoulder to keep himself as quiet as possible. He gently pulls out and tells me to stay in place as he comes from the bathroom with a towel to clean me up. We shower and we get back in the bed, under the sheets, him lying on his back and me lying on my side, my head on his chest. "You fucked up with my head from the moment i met you", he confesses with a smile, kissing my forehead.

"You're just saying this, you don't mean it", i chuckle and draw small circles on his chest

"I'm serious. I've had so many dirty thoughts about us, but reality beats it", we both laugh and i get up to kiss him.

"i'm glad to know i wasn't the only one", i whisper and deepen the kiss.

"Please tell me everything you thought about", Tris whispers, our lips barely touching

"How about i show you?", i smirk and kiss down his neck, chest and abdomen, getting under the sheets

"Princess.."

#tristan evans #tristan evans smut #tristan evans imagine #the vamps #the vamps smut #brad simpson #tristan evans x reader

[indra-lhove]

A little birthday gift for my RP partner @tazzire-boreal ❤️

First post on here as Ind'ra and what better way to start it off by posting the scene where Ind'ra and Tazzire meet again after a long week since their very first meeting. Here's also a little excerpt from that RP.

~~~

There was a snap and the fishing line broke. Again. Ind’ra let out a stream of curses and flopped backwards off his stool, sinking into the sand. He tossed his rod aside, giving up on fishing for the moment. Thaliak, I’m such an idiot. He thought, swinging his arm over his eyes to block out the morning sun. It had been over a week since he’d seen Tazzire and yet, the man was still all he saw when he closed his eyes.

He’d gone back to the same club the next night and waited the whole night for the man to reappear. He’d left disappointed. Yet, he stupidly tried again the night after. That time he tried to at least dance with others, tried to forget him but every time he saw dark scales or white hair or golden eyes, he would get distracted, annoying whatever dancer he was with at the time. The third night he wasn’t even sure why he was still going to the club and after an hour or two of waiting, he drank himself into a stupor and woke up on the fourth morning in an unfamiliar bed with an Au Ra that was all wrong. He’d given up on the club after that.

Since then he’d been throwing himself into continuing his renovations on the home he’d found and when that wasn’t enough, he’d go fishing like now. The problem with fishing is that it was a lot of waiting around for fish to bite which allowed his thoughts to wander back to sharp claws and the scent of honey.

His ears perked up at the sound of fighting nearby and since it was something else to give his attention to than his own wallowing, he lowered his arm and looked around. At the top of the cliff above him, shapes were moving. He couldn’t quite make them out from here, but only one of the shapes seemed humanoid. The fighting was getting closer and closer to the edge of the cliff and then before Ind’ra could even think to shout out a warning, the humanoid shape was falling.

Jumping to his feet, he watched in horror as the body crashed into the waves, miraculously avoiding the rocks nearby. Come on, come on. He bit his lip, waiting for them to emerge. Nothing. Not even a bubble. Cursing, Ind’ra pulled off his vest and threw it on the ground next to his rod and then dived in.

Despite how dark the water was, it didn’t take him long to find the fighter. His hands reached out and grabbed onto the sinking man, wrapping his arms around his chest, his head knocking into horns that designated this man as an Au Ra. Of fucking course. He thought bitterly as he kicked at the water to bring them both up to the surface.

Without looking too closely at the man he’d saved, he brought them both back to the shore. Once fully out of the water, Ind’ra collapsed onto his hands and knees next to the Au Ra, breathing heavily. “Fuck, you’re heavy.” He panted out before turning to finally look at the man. The sun glittered off the star-filled scales, water droplets moved along the soft, pewter skin, and oh, those lips, he knew every curve of them.

“Stardust?” He said in barely more than a whisper, reaching out his hand towards the unconscious Xaela, worried that if he made contact, the man would disappear again. As his eyes roamed over every ilm of Tazzire, he noticed something off about his neck. There were green veins sprouting from a small gash, pulsing with poison. Shit. Ind’ra grabbed for his pack and pulled out his planisphere, pushing his aether through it and into Tazzire, removing the poison and healing the rest of his wounds for good measure.

Setting the globe aside, he shifted closer, hovering over Tazzire, still not touching him. “Please be alright, Dust. Please.”

#tazzra #indra lhove #tazzire boreal #miqo'te #au ra #finalfantasyxiv #ffxiv gpose #gpose #gpose comic #ffxiv

[aprillikesthings]

HELLO EVERYONE

it is Thursday night which means it's my weekend which means IT'S SHE-RA TIME

On a related note a bunch of the stuff for my cosplay (like, clothes) gets here tomorrow and then I can put it all together and look in front of the mirror and make weird noises at myself and take terrible selfies, so stay tuned for that yeah? Yeah!

OKAY

I'M STARTING SEASON FIVE oh god

s5 ep1 Horde Prime

My semi-frequent reminder that these are a re-watch, spoilers ahoy, I make a lot of dumb jokes

I'm going to tRY to scale back on how much of the episodes I like, describe. Those last two eps of s4 I ended up just telling the whole thing, to the point of copy/pasting a shit-ton of dialogue from the damn fan transcripts.

BUT THERE WAS SO MUCH LORE AND STORY AND SHIT and I want to remember everything uggghhhhh

okay I just noticed the rating, and I can't screenshot it bc it disappears when I pause, but the show is rated for age 7 and up and says "fantasy violence, fear"

Fear??? I mean that's...not wrong. But it feels like a weird way of wording it?

This was pretty, but then the damn Horde Prime ships showed up.

you broke the sword, girly

(for good reason! but still. also the music actually starts the little rah-rah transformation tune and then cuts off)

I hate it when creepy dudes watch me via bot soldiers

I remember reading that there are parts of the intro that change multiple times across this season, and I know Daci and I just skipped the intro every time when we marathoned this season back in 2020, so I'm watching them all this time, and

O_O

And she's not She-Ra! Just Adora!

the shards of Narsil....wait wrong fantasy story

Ohhhh they're all hiding under some kind of invisibility/protection shield constantly maintained by sorcerers. That makes sense.

ALSO I remember noticing this the first time, but you can tell they got a higher budget this season.

ugggh let it go

Everyone else says the same thing lol (along with "literally we can't because we don't have She-Ra anymore")

Adora's obviously still engaging in her self-sacrificial bullshit and Perfuma's like "no u gotta take ppl with u" but then

NOT. HELPING.

I mean Glimmer's room on the ship is nice (if sterile and too brightly-lit) but oof

oh, are you also lonely? do you also long for someone at least a little familiar? Hm????

;_;

Horde Prime just like "yo my bro hated your guts when I showed up lol did u know that"

(referring to the Heart of Etheria) yeah sweetie that's not gonna save your ass for long

He's so fucking creepy!!

Also I know they were inspired by megachurches and conservative Christian stuff when making Horde Prime's ship, but the music here even sounds kind of like an organ!

(...which is funny when you remember that megachurches usually have, like, rock bands)

Stop doing your self-sacrificial bullshit....without us!!

Does anyone else always wonder what they use for bathrooms?? The ones in the Fright Zone didn't have obvious restrooms either. Anyway.

So I know people were shipping Glitra for obvious reasons before this season but this whole storyline was just fucking great on that front lol

But also look at how fucking SMUG she is!

bahaha the "how's it going, Princess?" line is said almost as unnecessarily sexy as the "hey, Adora" thing

HAH. Glimmer is RIGHT.

Catra: nah man I'mma kick my ass to the top like I did last time Glimmer: u will get crushed like a BUG you DIPSHIT Clones: COME TO DINNER

oh sure, NOW you're looking at her for sympathy pfft

Clone: PRAISE THE LORD Everyone else: oh please shut the fuck up

("April aren't yOU Christian" yes but like, not that kind.)

Who else read A Wrinkle in Time? Remember that meal they had on Camazotz where everything tasted like sand to Meg because she was the only one who was completely resistant to the hypnotism bullshit IT did? Anyway that's what I'm reminded of.

the little she-ra doll :(

Even Catra's not thrilled to see this. (That or she saw Scorpia fighting and feels guilty)

When says "Adora," Catra scratches the table

GLIMMER GOD DAMMIT (but also look at poor Catra's face)

OH RIGHT because if he knows this he has no reason to keep Catra around.

But she can't stop looking at the screen where Adora just was ahahah

YOU COULDN'T DO IT ALONE BEFORE

lol Bow says it. "You're not alone. You've never been." But he's nicer about it than me.

Catra: oooh, princesses and their *~feelings~* Horde Prime: lol you're not any better

I am actively resisting the urge to make a BBC Sherlock reference. IYKYK.

"Adora means something to you." 👀

His little speech about "you Etherians are all alike, such strong connections to each other...it's what makes you weak," is such a great way of contrasting him to the actual Good Guys. Empathy and compassion, caring for others--those aren't weaknesses!

But if your goal is ruthlessly destroying everything in the universe for your own power, then yeah, they would be.

And of course, Catra does think her connections to others is what makes her weak, at this point in the story.

augh

"Now that I know about She-Ra and the weapon, what purpose do I have for you? Your little ploy of parsing out information like a bartering chip was never going to last long out here... I see all. I know all. But fear not. I have great plans for you. Every part of the machine is of value. Even you...little sister."

AAUGH

(and that's why the rating for this show warns for "fear" lol)

And then Adora has one of her weird dreams about She-Ra and shattering the sword but while awake, and clearly it pains her--and then she passes out, end of episode.

Anyway I managed to make it all fit in one post but only barely, I had to go back and delete a few, lol

TBH I should probably just assume these are all gonna be two-parters, there's so much plot.

#april rewatches spop #horde prime

[blinkys]

Batman's cowl

I cannot sleep so it is time for y'all to suffer through my rant again (the again are for those who suffered them, either on whatsapp or discord).

For people who unluckily met me, you know I deeply believe that Batman should rot when someone'll buy common sense for Bruce and make him RETIRE. He's old. I know his joints crack the second he tries to sit up from a chair.

Anyway.

Dick would hate to take over. Minus 99 on 100, would not try again. He had his taste of the cowl and it was bitter. And he was never designed for it; Robin was always meant to be what Batman cannot be.

He was the light in the darkness, the laughter despite Gotham's protector's violence. I do not mean that there isn't something lurking in Dick's eyes- he's made of anger, of strong emotions, after all. But he represents hope in such a blatant, painful way that shoving him into Batman's black armor would be just like snuffing a candlelight.

Nightwing is more than what Bruce could ever imagine, and I will fight anyone who does not see his importance in the DCU. I will die on this hill, you cannot change my mind.

I had a rant on Jason, but there are new points I want to target. I think he has the ambiguous luck of being both in the middle of things, and then got away far enough that he could see the horrifying cycle of Gotham, feeding on Batman's and his rogues' neverending battle and understanding what it means. He is right that, in killing those villains, he is saving far more innocents than Batman ever will. It is true that, if he were to take the cowl, we could see improvements in Gotham. He would be breaking the cycle.

But would he be doing it as Batman, or as the Red Hood with new silly little bat ears? After you take away Batman's reason of being (Bruce's trauma, duty to the name Wayne and need to do, to be, good), after you take away his ethics ("Batman does not kill"), what is left? An empty husk, with a tarnished history.

Jason rose up from what was made of him. From the street rat, from Robin's replacement, from the Joker's victim. He will not be restrained again to the whims and definitions of others.

Tim... is the hardest for me. Because he would make a good Batman. An efficient one. And that's where the danger lies. It has been shown, again and again, that Tim's drawn a line in the sand. And while he keeps strictly to it, sand shifts, as time goes by.

Tim's whole thing is being what is needed, at that time. He became Robin, part admiration, but mostly because "Batman needs a Robin". He losts Robin, but still did what he deemed as necessary, when Bruce was lost to time - even going as far as starting an alliance with Ra's fucking al Ghul. Tim is driven by need. And confronted unceasingly by Gotham's merry-go-round of weirdoes, it wouldn't be too strange if he felt that an accident or two was needed.

Tim, more than anyone in his family, requires a support structure. Not one like Batman who, despite it all, is still quite a solitary figure, but a whole Team like the Titans- if only for the well-being of his enemies, if not his own. Tim needs people who push him to be the best he could be, people who need him to be their moral compass.

Damian, at the contrary of Tim, is one of the easiest one for me. He may had been raised with the idea of being Heir to the Bat, but he was always fairly independent, in ways his brothers weren't when they first meet Bruce; Dick needed support after his tragedy, Jason wanted a father who would treat him as a desired son, Tim was seeking anyone who could give him any positive form of attention.

Damian needed stability. And it sure wasn't Bruce who gave him that; it was Dick. So he never developped those strong feelings and bonds (he still has a strong relationship with his father, don't get me wrong) that anchored his brothers to Bruce's shore. Even as a Robin, the only thing tying him up with his predecessors is the weight of the mantle.

He has learnt that being the result of his bloodline does not mean that he was to be restrained by it. I like to think of Damian's story as one of learning; he's not Ra's al Ghul's heir, he is not Batman's heir. He is Damian al Ghul Wayne and he'll grown up to be something great all on his own.

And while his adventure still has a long way to go, I deeply believe that, at the end of it, he'd rather seek an identity for himself rather than take on his Father's.

Now, Cassandra. Either be it ethics, morals or just narrative interest, she'd be a great Batman. Just like Bruce, her inability to kill comes from trauma; from her taking life for the first time and swearing she'd never do that again. Her line is drawn in blood, and that means that she'll keep to it much more stubbornly.

At this point, the only reason why I don't think she should take over Batman is that I just believe all legacy heroes deserve more than taking over their mentor unfinished business. I' sorry I'm totally being blinded by this image of a perfect Cassandra who will succeed in everything she does.

I don't even need to talk about Signal. He's already so different from that whole Batman and Robin thing, don't lower him like That.

Specials mentions for Spoiler, who would shout "Fuck Batman!" with middle fingers raised. She had been a replacement Robin once, she's not looking to repeat the experience and she has learnt that she's much better than what Bruce deserves.

#batman #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #cassadra cain #stephanie brown #batfam #the cowl of Batman is the physical representation of Gotham's curse and it needs to be buried #let the man retire #bruce wayne had been batman for longer that my dad was alive #it's time we FINALLY get to a new generation #don't get me wrong #i love bruce #he's my traumatized little meow meow #but if he tries to give the cowl to any of his kids I will beat him up with his mother's pearl necklace

[placesyoucallhome]

FFXIVWrite #15- Portentous

(( Endwalker spoilers ))

The sky was a sickly green color, wind whipping up foam off the waves and stripping trees of leaves, and Canum was sipping coffee as he stared out the window. 

Most of the company was huddled at the kitchen bar, the smell of eggs and bacon and ishgardian toast hovering in the room, an unusual choice for dinner, but it hadn’t been a usual sort of past few days. Everyone was tense, terse, even Nemo had been picked up from his shack out in north western La Noscea, though he sat stock still on his chair as if he’d already been shell shocked. 

Well, Canum supposed he had. 

“The storm will pass before the night is through.” Ruhka hummed, still poking at sizzling bacon after the few sitting at the bar flinched. 

“Ah don’ think it’s th’ storm we’re worryin’ about, Cap’n.” The seawolf woman grumbled. 

“There’s always some world’s end happening, it feels like. Is this what the calamity was like?” The au ra man next to her leaned around to glance at Nemo, earning a smack from both Ruhka and the roe. 

“No. Cartineau was a singular fight.” Nemo still mumbled, “This is. This is star wide, isn’t it?” 

Ruhka sighed, turning back to his crew, “It’s spreading. According to the reports I’ve intercepted. All the way out to the far east at least. Reports of red skies in Garlemald and Thavnair, people being turned inta beasts with no way to revert them. Somethin’ called Akasha. And apparently Sharlayan has a solution.” 

“Oh that bodes well. Not the scions of the whatever?” Canum huffed over his mug. 

“Well. Apparently they’re there too. I don’t know. Salt called, she said the forum declared an evacuation.” The captain shrugged.

“And evacuation of… Sharlayan?” Nemo asked, but no that didn’t seem like a right response to any of them. The scholars had already done that once though, to be fair. 

“Uh, no. Of the star.” 

Blank stares across the bar, and Ruhka looked particularly grim and frankly, unsure. 

“To where?” Canum seemed to gather wits first, setting his coffee down and glaring at the suncat. 

“The… moon.” 

More blank stares, incredulous silence. 

“Before anyone asks, no I can’t get into Sharlayn right now. Yes I am working on it. Yes it has been done before, obviously as the Allagans got a fucking moon up there themselves, right?” 

“Their solution. Is to go to the fucking moon.” Nerys blinked, her fingers twitched, if it weren’t storming Canum was sure she’d already be on her way to light up a smoke. 

“Why moons? Why is it always moons? Why is it when things go to shit, a moon is involved?” Nemo hissed, head in hands, tail fur standing on end and ears flattened back, “Are moons always made for some impending apocalypse?” 

“Does that make you an ill omen, mooncat?”

Canum would later admit, he did certainly deserve the fireball thrown in his face, but he was still not going to sand out the scorch marks in the floorboards.

#ffxivwrite2023 #Q'ruhka #nemo antal #canum wicks #I think more people need to write about/consider what characters were doing during uh all of that #But Ruhka and company are in the unique position of actually hearing about even more of it as non-wols go #because Ruhka is a nosy brat and he has a wine aunt in sharlayan #who would have immediately called him to start making plans #and now he wants to go to [redacted] for real

[ayuki-ikuya]

BRO, WHY ARE THERE NOT A LOT OF ENNEAD (webtoon) FANFICS?? OR LITTLE FANFIC POSTS??? I GET THAT IT'S MOSTLY YAOI, BUT LIKE, WHY ARE THEY ALL SO FUCKING H O T ??????

I'm about to change that. I already got a Fanfic going on Wattpad called Ambrosial. SO NOW I'M GONNA START TOSSING ENNEAD POSTS TOO, SO LET'S GOO!!!!!!

Hazy

ENNEAD × Reader

Warning - Age gap!!!

Hand in hand with Horus, him in front and you behind him, he held the dagger and you held a rock.

In front of you both was a temple, where the supreme god was in.

You, a child blessed by Ra, and Horus, the son of Osiris and Isis, stepped into the temple.

Your bare feet gingerly stepped, hiding the sound of your footsteps with Horus'. The smell of blood gradually became stronger with every step. So did the scent of alcohol and something sickly sweet.

Your eyes, hidden by your messy hair, widened when you peeked over Horus' shoulder when he froze when reaching the end of the corridor, revealing a mass amount of bodies, all boys that are a similar age to you and Horus. You covered your mouth and nose, gagging, the scent of iron burning your nose more than ever.

You felt sick, how could a supreme god.. Do this?

Your heart was hammering tightly, until a voice spoke. "What are you two doing over there? Come here." Sand immediately surrounded you two, bringing both you and your companion forward towards the god who reeked of wine and the strangely sweet smell.

The god who's face was covered by the Set animal, grasped the Horus first. Holding his face while you watched, until the god's own hand was also placed on your cheek. "I'm sorry Anubis, Nephthys.. I'm sorry.." The supreme being wept.

You stared at the god- no, man. Both of you reached your hands up to push his headdress away, revealing the face of a lonely, regretful man. Tears were falling from his eyes, his beautiful red eyes that captivated you both. It was like staring into the desert when the sun dyed the sky red, casting a glow over the golden desert into a beautiful red gem. His hair matched the colors of his eyes as he towered over you both.

The god took Horus' hands in his, kissing them gently before kissing both of your cheeks. He cupped your cheeks in his hands before leaning in to peck your lips. He whispered his apologise, not to you or Horus, but to somebody else.

He held you in his arms with Horus on his lap. Running his hands through your hair, brushing it gently despite the occasional tangles his fingers got snagged on.

The days had went on, you and Horus continued to give the man wine and lit more insence, all just so you both could be pampered and adored by the supreme god, even if it wasn't for both of you.

But you slowly watched as his mind slowly withered. And both of you had someone of your own to be with.

Horus left to find his mother. While you lingered behind a bit, with the supreme god, who's eyes were hazy, unable to perceive anything. You leaned down and grasped his face with your small hands, wiping away the drool before kissing his forehead then rested your head against his. "I am, but a mere mortal child blessed by the gods. I pray that you will find happiness." you whispered before leaving the god behind with a final glance.

----------

"Apophis.. Horus..are you saying.." The child of the god of war stared at the two tall figures. A dark skinned man with the mask of a falcon. Next to him was you. Taller than Horus, with a mask of a golden snake mask with a veil to cover your mouth and hair that was long, nearly brushing against your ankles if left loose, braided towards and reached to your knees.

"Yes, the one who as cursed us and you.. Is your father." Horus spoke, gazing into the flames as he too recalled the memories. "While the two of you remained mostly as children, son of Seth, as your curse.. Mine.. Was to forever be faithful and love Seth, as a wife." You in turn spoke, your heart ached while you set yourself in front of the boy who never grew.

Who wanted to be a god.

"If you wish to be able to escape yourself. You have to cleanse yourself." Horus started, the air slowly growing tenser as you now towered over the boy, who's dark eyes trembled in fear.

"And rid yourselves of the thought of Seth. Forget all of your memories, leave them behind. To become a god, you must be in a state of purity where you can begin anew." You finished for Horus.

Your name wasn't Apophis. It never was, it was a new name bestowed upon you by Ra. Your god name. The god who took care of the afterlife and the devourer of impurities.

Your hands grasped the headdress, until it shattered into golden coins, revealing your face to the boy who's face paled.

"I am the god of the Afterlife. The devourer of impurities. I shall devour every impurity that seeped into your soul to let you be born anew, Anubis. Son of Nephthys and Osiris." Your eyes that were an eerie golden color, rivaling the precious metal known to man, slitted as a snake.

Scales were shown around your eyes in revelation if your true self. You leaned in and whispered into his ear. "I shall rid of the impurities of Seth. But know that to truly become god, your true father must let you go." And you moved to his lips and kissed the boy.

Anubis trembled in your hold, suddenly feeling like everything he treasured, everything he loved, was slowly being ripped apart, taking the pieces containing the father he knew and loved, the father he scorned and wept for, away from him.

He tried to hold on to any feelings he had for Seth, but it slowly trickled into sand as it was immediately devoured by you.

"I grant whatever wish you have, to bring you happiness, Anubis. The choice of beginnings, is yours." You pulled away after devouring everything the boy had to offer and left, with Horus trailing behind you.

"Apophis.. Horus.." Hathor saw you two, but you turned your head to the side, letting Horus do the speaking for the two of you until you left.

You entered your own chambers, discarding your headdress and the clothing you wore. Ripping the jewelry off your body until you were bare. You laid on the bed, curling up as the memories of both yours and Anubis clashed.

You hated this. Why did you become a god, a god who's only purpose..

Was to devour the sun and gods in act of letting them all free.

#FANFIC #ENNEAD #reader insert #set #horus #anubis #fanfiction #slight age gap #FINALLY AN ACTUAL

[thatlittleegyptologist]

alt text on all parts of this post provided by tumblr's native system

@ballad-of-adove this will be the last time I do this, so once more with feeling...

side note: Most of the 'mythology' and 'history' in this is from the comics, which is why it's so jarring. Other things like the first ep where he said 'they removed the brain and other organs through the nose' should have been picked up on. Unfortunately, since this will be many people's first experience with deeper Egyptian mythology and history, it's going to seep into the public consciousness as fact.

Block the tags #moon knight spoilers and #an egyptologist is forced to watch moon knight, if you don't want to see these posts

So, onto Ep 3 and no really I do mean this is the last time I'm doing this I really am done with it:

This is the 5th time I've started this after tumblr whitescreened and I lost my post (I've been saving drafts now, but every so often I lose an entire paragraph)

I'm pissed about that

'Archaeology, one big mess of bookworms' - ehhh most archaeologists would prefer to be in the field or in the lab rather than in the library. Or at least the ones I've met and am friends with do. Also 'mess of bookworms' defines any academic field

Ahh the classic hollywood intro to any arab setting: yellow filter, vague arab music, everyone in desert combats, sand

dunno why they're using donkeys this far out into the desert though. It should be camels. Better grip

the floaty scarab compass is back just doing its thing

oh it pointed down to say it found Ammit's tomb

good doggo scarab

Ethan Hawke's character still needs to trim his split ends, and also stop using straighteners because that hair is drrrryyyyy

we're about good hair care in this dojo

it's funny how they've managed to make Cairo look like a provincial town

Too much repeated cgi, and not enough landmarks. Amount of mosques is accurate though

just fyi the Greater Cairo area is home to 20.1 million people, and this rooftop scene looks like it's just in a random town

Traffic is also accurate

Needs that one bloke on a motorbike who weaves through traffic with a 15ft metal pole strapped to him to be 100%

Mango seller in the middle of the road is also accurate

STOP DESTROYING THE SOUK

Ohh now we're seeing more Cairo...but it still looks off

Also what is that burnt out landmark high up?

Honestly it looks like a burnt out factory attached to Djoser's pyramid

There's a shanty town underneath a cliff edge in Cairo....do these people know what Cairo looks like?

You're right. Khonshu is a stupid piegeon

That's still not what Khonsu (the actual god) looks like

I still don't even know what bird that is. Khonsu the god's bird form is a Hawk/Falcon with a moon headdress. This is neither of those things

lmao Khonshu is fucking with the sun, so I guess we're trying to piss of Ra

Can't wait to see what not bird he is

Oh finally we see actual Cairo, and the entire Giza plateau that somehow has...2 tourists despite it being peak visiting hours

The Ministry for Egyptian Antiquities is gonna be pissed at Unwashed Preacher Man and his dig crew. That's an illegal dig my dude

also taking sand away and making a chain to pass the sand up the hill, only to deposit the sand at the top so it inevitably falls back down to where you're digging is poor planning and maintenance.

Not even dug a test trench

I want an Ennead portal

lmao they banished khonshu? is it because he's in teenage rebellion? Amun and Mut gonna be having words

'Oh my days I can't believe it. We're inside, we're inside the Great Pyramid of Giza!' hey...what the fuck now?

and that's where you'll have to wait for the next bit wherein I will absolutely lose my shit

#moon knight spoilers #an egyptologist is forced to watch moon knight #as for the alt text I'm going to continue doing it this way for now #every time I do alt text someone messages me with 'no do it this way' and then I change it and someone else tells me it's wrong #and that I have to do it another way so until there's a standardised form everyone agrees on I'm doing it like this #don't @ me

[cigarette-room]

[WIP] Whistle out to no one

(Hello everyone! I figured out since I have all this blog rn and everything, I might post snippets, drabbles, ideas, parts of upcoming fics etc. Please check the tags for characters, pairings and trigger warnings, and proceed with caution).

In the aftermath of knocking on death's doorstep, it's Aldo Raine's presence that he's tortured with.

Twisting and blurring, his vision clears up: first comes the window and then sterile white room, and then a presence other than his own.

Aldo Raine.

Aldo Raine.

He feels like he can't breathe. There's a millisecond of cold air violently hitching in his throat and then pain, just pain. His eyes close in a tight frown - the voice sounds like sandpaper when he gasps. At his bedside, the silhouette doesn't go away.

Hans tries to flinch and escape when foreign fingertips start checking on his bandages. It soon proves futile as his limbs stay numb and what was supposed to be a strong rejection turns into a thin, exhausted shiver. Almost delicate. Pathetic.

He'd spit on himself if he could.

White is all around him, white walls, white ceiling and floors, white everything. People like to describe death like this. He'd read the same old story countless times, same old cliché he always laughed about - it hurts a bit, and then it's dark, but there's a white light and everything is gentle and God takes you in His grace if only you've been a good man, Landa, but you've never been a good man. You've never been a good boy, either. No, no, no, for you there's none of that God nonsense, none of the stories of afterlife and peace, and even if there was, you'd pretend there isn't, and you'd keep piling corpses of all these people, these parents and children who've done nothing wrong but they'll get you, Landa, they'll get you one day, they'll get you and you'll wish you were never born!

"The fuck are you on about?"

He jerks from that forest and back to reality where Raine's face is right above him, twisted in a suspicious frown. Their eyes lock in a stare, bright blue meeting nothing at all; Aldo always hated that he couldn't even determine what the fucker's eye color was. Something as laughably human as an eye color, something that everyone has. Just looking at those eyes for more than a few seconds felt like being slowly drowned.

"...Sick fuck".

With that, Hans watches him retreat back into the chair. The foreign hands are gone, quickly substituted by pain that feels like rodents gnawing on his guts. It makes him want to throw up.

Staying as still as humanly possible, he looks on at him, keeping the stare until he can't. It's futile to speak, that much is obvious. A delirious mind does not know what to say, or how to say it. A delirious mind will forget it all, unbothered with making sense.

But a delirious mind always speaks regardless, and Aldo is just pulling the knife from within his jacket, so he must be thinking the same-

"Make it stop".

The only reaction he gets is Aldo turning in his seat, looking over at him with uncharacteristic calm. It's a knowing kind of expression, like hearing something he's already familiar with, and it makes Hans wonder if he's already spoken things while half-conscious that he can't remember now.

"You're ranting some bullshit again. Talk normally".

"I am… talking normally. Make it… stop".

Aldo snorts out a laugh, but there's no humor behind it. Dry as a desert, and every sharp grain of sand is digging into the deep gash in Hans' carefully built composure.

"Can't. A bullet in the gut doesn't go away, smartass. You've gotta brave through it and stop being a pissbaby".

Hans rolls his eyes in animosity. It's painful enough just to speak, and on top of it, Raine keeps purposefully dancing around an obvious thing. Annoying.

"You know".

"Know what?"

The air feels too tight. It hurts so much he has to catch his breath, but what he really wants is strength, power enough to get out of this ridiculous hospital bed and walk over to where Raine is sitting. He'd hold him at gunpoint, no, force the stubborn bastard to listen to what he has to say instead of playing games like with a captured animal who has no way of regaining its' dominance back. Like this, it's all in reverse, all odds tipping to Aldo's favor; Hans has grip on reality enough to know he's not the biggest presence in the room.

"You know what… what I mean. You know. Don't play stupid… Apache".

Aldo frowns, then snickers, and it feels like his grave being spat on, the way he looks at him.

"I ain't got time to play guessing games, Landa-"

"Kill me. You should kill me".

The very air in the room seems to tremble, then stutter to a halt, stopping time and space from flowing, isolating them in the room too little to keep all that resentment at bay. Microscopic moments pass, then seconds; his face is starting to look like the exact expression he gave Hans that fateful night, hearing the ending words of his little speech.

In the pages of history, every once in a while… fate reaches out and extends its hand.

He somewhat regrets trying to bargain in the first place. What was it worth? Asking for retirement just to become an asset of this man whom he thought he outsmarted easily, get branded like an animal that most people would agree he fucking was; get to work to pay it off, picking fights with mad dogs from a regime he happily screwed over its' head. Get shot, obviously. Not one person from that war would take his side to prevent it. Not the Nazis, not the Americans, of course not. Not the faces of all the Jews he killed, staring at him in that forest with a thousand eyes that weren’t really there, not the smell of fire that didn’t exist, carrying Shosanna Dreyfus’ laugh. Whispering, not screaming; calm, but not entirely.

It’s not over for you. It will never be over for you. You don’t get to win, Hans Landa, you won’t get to run away from this.

What foolish determination he had about surviving on his own accord was swiped with waves of pain and numbing fever. And everything he did on his own led him here - sterile and cold room, wounds that won’t close up for as long as he lives, pain that refuses any kind of drug just to spite him a little more. In the corner, a feeling of being stared at. And his worst enemy, the writer of his fate, sitting at his bedside.

#tw: blood and violence #tw: non-graphic injury #aldo raine #hans landa #aldo/landa #inglourious basterds #AU: once upon a time in post-war America

[saijspellhart]

Little oneshot about Atem meeting Sphinx Yugi

Part of my Sphinx AU. Please enjoy.

Atem clutched his cloak around him, trying to settle back against the date palms again, only to sit up with a start at the rustle of leaves. The once vibrant and friendly oasis he’d happened upon in the day, had turned into an absolute nightmare as soon as the sun set.

He hadn’t managed to get a fire going, he couldn’t find anything to eat, and although the water in the massive pond looked clean and tasted good, he was convinced he’d be sick by morning.

The night was so dark, even with all the stars, he could barely make out his surroundings in the dense thickets of trees and brush surrounding the pond. He could swear something was out there. Could feel it staring at him, hunting him.

He snapped his head to the left at the sound of disturbed undergrowth, and swore he caught a glimpse of yellow eyes. Like the glowing pupils of some large animal. They disappeared almost immediately.

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen them. Could be a fox, or a crocodile, perhaps a leopard, or even a hyena. Although he really doubted it was a hyena. Too quiet for that noisy pack animal. Never the less, he was convinced he was being stalked by some silent predator.

Hours were passing, and he continued his restless watch.

The night wore on leaving him more and more exhausted, and the chill set in harder. He felt cold in his bones without a fire or proper insulation from the frigid desert night.

He would die of exposure before he was ever rescued by his priests.

Atem saw the flash of yellow eyes again in his peripheral and scowled at them sleepily.

Or I’ll simply get eaten alive. What an end for a mighty Pharaoh. He should have simply died earlier in the day during the skirmish with the brigands. At least then it would have been in the service of his people, and not alone, lost in the desert, and at the jaws of local wildlife.

Another hour passed, and he couldn’t hold his head up anymore to stay alert. He was so cold.

So tired.

His eyelids drooped. And each blink was a little longer, his mind a little hazier.

He searched for the eyes in the dark, but saw nothing. He heard nothing. He couldn’t hold his eyes open any longer and he drifted out of consciousness.

0000

Atem’s world was a lot brighter when his brain clicked back into consciousness the next morning.

And warmer.

So much warmer. He’d been so cold the night before and now he was wrapped in a blanket of warmth and fluffy comfort.

It felt like his head was pillowed against a cloud. A slightly dusty, musky scented cloud with an edge of sweetness, almost like grass. It was pleasant.

In fact everything was pleasant. Even the comforting weight settled over him. Atem didn’t want to move. Didn’t even want to wake up. Instead, he inhaled the pleasant scent again and tried to drift back to sleep.

His hand reached up to sink fingers into soft fur and snuggled deeper into his pillow.

Which gasped, and shifted beneath him.

Atem’s eyes shot open, getting an eyeful of white and tawny red-gold fur. Something like a tail swished just over the swell of golden fur he’d taken a handful of. He was up in an instant, flailing against feathers, and violently slapping a large wing off of himself as he stumbled to get away.

“Ouch!” a stranger’s voice yelped.

He ended up crawling backwards through sand and grasses. Drawing his knife—his khopesh having gotten lost when his horse threw him in the strange and sudden sand storm—he pointed the blade, putting as much distance as he could between himself and the strange creature he’d been cuddled up to only moments before.

“What in Ra’s name are you?” Atem demanded.

The creature blinked large and bewitching purple eyes at him. “What does it look like?” It asked, sounding almost offended. It shook out one of its large black-tipped white feathered wings, as if shaking off pain, before gingerly folding the appendage against its back. “In fact I’m one of the god’s creatures. I’m a sphinx,” it announced rising up on its very feline paws.

This gave Atem a very good look at the creature, and yes. Yes, it was a sphinx. He quickly lowered the knife so as not to disrespect it.

It was not the type of sphinx he was most accustomed to seeing depicted in scrolls and in reliefs. That being a creature with a lion’s body and the head of a human. No, this creature had the head and torso of a human, its arms changing into a feline’s paws starting at the elbow, and its torso becoming a feline’s lower half starting at the stomach.

The stomach that Atem’s head has been pillowed against, he noted. That’s what had been so soft like a cloud. He swallowed thickly.

“It’s been awhile since a human has wandered into my oasis,” the sphinx said conversationally. It took a few steps towards Atem. “What’s your name?”

He wasn’t about to give a magical creature such as this his name. Magical creatures could do dangerous things with your name. “Atem…” the name tumbled off his tongue unbidden. Fuck. He suspected some magic must be at play, but Ra would have to smite him before he would tell this creature he was a Pharaoh. Absolutely no good would come of this creature having that knowledge.

“Atem~” the sphinx tested the name on its tongue, and smiled brightly at him. “Hi Atem! My name is Yugi,” as it introduced itself it made a tight circle giving Atem a look at its entire body from nose to the end of its stumpy tail.

It was just like a cat to give someone an eyeful of its ass. If the lack of breasts hadn’t clued him in, Atem could safely conclude that the very effeminate looking creature was indeed a male.

When Yugi turned to face him again he couldn’t quite meet the Sphinx’s eye anymore and sort of looked off to the side instead.

It was actually startling how much the Sphinx’s hair resembled Atem’s. Should he be flattered? Or maybe the sphinx was flattered. It was probably far older than him. Their hair was strikingly similar, both having flowing blonde bangs and unruly black spikes tinged with color at the tips. Although Atem’s hair ended in red, while Yugi’s seemed to be a gradient of purples and reds. That was where the similarities between them seemed to end though. Yugi had large eyes and a small nose, with a slight build and fair skin. Where as Atem had a large nose, thick brows over slanted eyes, with the build of a fighter and brown skin.

“I’m sorry for scaring you when you woke up,” Yugi dipped his head and looked genuinely apologetic.

“What was…that anyway?” Atem jerked his head at the Sphinx and reached a hand down to pluck at some grass, tearing the blades between his fingers.

“I was keeping you warm,” Yugi explained. Almost comically large cat ears flicked on either side of his head, disturbing locks of hair as they did. Atem could make out black tufts of fur on the ends of the ears that reminded him very much of a caracal. Yugi kept his distance but sat back on his haunches. His wings adjusted on his back, fluttering a bit before folding back into place. “You were so cold, shivering in your sleep, and well… the elements don’t bother me.” he shrugged. “So I curled up beside you, and covered you with my wing.”

Atem narrowed his eyes at the creature. Were sphinxes usually so kind? He couldn’t recall many stories about sphinxes but the stories he did recall they were always dangerous and tricksy. “I suppose I owe you a debt now, don’t I?” He growled out, tossing his handful of shredded grass on the sand before him.

Yugi blinked at him. “No? Oh well maybe…” he tilted his head and it looked like the wheels had begun to turn in his mind. “Why?” he asked slowly.

“Because you probably saved my life. Kept me from succumbing to exposure or something.” Atem explained impatiently. He didn’t want to be in debt to a magical creature, but he was also a Pharaoh and it could spell disaster to leave debts unpaid. Should the sphinx ever find out he was a pharaoh and decide to collect on the debt it might ask for something outrageous. Like a child, or a golden statue in its likeness, or perhaps to stay in his palace to live like a king. “Creatures like you always want payment for a life saved.”

Yugi seemed to consider this, all the while studying Atem curiously. “I suppose that’s true,” he purred. “How about we play a game? Win, and consider the debt repaid. Your life will be your own. But should you lose, then your life is mine.” This time when the little Sphinx grinned at him it was far more predatory. If he wasn’t so adorable Atem might have felt more intimidated.

A game? A smug sense of triumph curled in Atem’s stomach. A game wasn’t so bad. He was excellent at games. “What kind of game?” Atem hedged warily. Skills aside, making a deal with any magical creature was extremely dangerous, but especially with a sphinx.

Yugi laid down on the ground and crossed his front paws. “Oh, nothing complicated. Just a simple game of riddles~”

Atem adjusted until he was sitting cross-legged facing the Sphinx. He placed his hands on his knees and did his best to school his expression with confidence. “Alright then. I’ll play your game.”

“Great!” Yugi chirped happily, and his cat butt wiggled with excitement. “I will start.”

Atem bit his cheek and silently reminded himself that this cuteness was probably a facade. He would focus…and he would win.

#puzzleshipping #yugi mutou #atem #Yami yugi #pharaoh atem #yugioh #sphinx au #sphinx yugi #drabble #oneshot #fanfic #fanfiction #yugioh duel monsters #ygo dm #SaijSpellhart writes

[yanderenightmare]

just curious, do you see the bnha characters as japanese? like ethnic wise. like i see you write that they're still situated in japan and they technically are speaking japanese, but idk, i don't think its bad to not picture them as ethnically japanese, what about you

this is actually a good question, let me guys know what you think in the comments cuz im genuinely curious about this too.

goodiebag WARNINGS: please note that there are foolish-fun stereotypes ahead, please don't take them seriously at all, sorry if i offend anyone with this, please know i mean nothing by any of it

BNHA thoughts

I personally don't view most of them as ethnically Japanese. Not for any big reason, just because associations and such get in the way. But it's weird, because sometimes I'll be looking at fanart of for example Bakugo where the artist has chosen a realistic approach and I'll suddenly be reminded of him being Japanese, which is a surprise to me.

It also throws me off because, I know they are technically still speaking Japanese even though I'm writing english speech. But, like for example with Bakugo and Hawks, I give them like a ragged accent, and when I write Shoto I'Il give him a slightly posh vocabulary. So, it's interesting...

Just another disclaimer. I feel it should be obvious that these are stereotypes that are untrue, and that if you have an issue with discussing such tropes it's your responsibility to stop reading now. There are trigger warnings at the top of the post, so any unsavoury feelings beyond those are out of my hands and on you.

Sorry for being harsh, but apparently some people need to be told twice.

BAKUGO KATSUKI

Going off of stereotypes, he's just too disrespectful to be Japanese.

And no one will agree with me on this, but...

I get such a Slavic vibe from Bakugo.

Like, hear me out.

RA RA RASPUTIN!

Looks mysterious and smart until he starts loudly yelling for no reason. The seemingly uncalled for and bottomless rage making him look like an oaf. The pouting and grunting like he's forgotten basic human speech.

That slavic fashion though-

Black crew neck and chain.

Tattoos and rings.

A nose that's been broken a few too many times.

Cut brow, popped lip and bruised knuckles.

You can't deny how natural it would be to see Bakugo unscrewing a bottle of absolute vodka and proceed to drink it like it's water with the same bored unfazed expression on his face. I'm talking no swallowing, just letting it pour down his throat, like it's nothing, just chugging it down.

Don't even get me started on the stereotypical Russian bad guy. Cunning and sinister, emotionless demeanour and cruel behaviour, until going completely feral and ballistic when things don't go according to plan, flipping the table and screaming at his henchmen, calling everyone useless.

CYKA BLYAT!

BUT, I used to get a Scandic feeling off of Bakugo because of the ash-blonde hair, the obsession with war and conquer like he's some Viking or Berserker, and the sand-coloured slightly tanned skin like he's been on a longboat for weeks rowing, bulging biceps and roughed hands.

I can picture him holding an axe so easily, dressed in fur for warmth, maniacal battle grin, blood-splatter on his face.

But then again, I might just be biased from seeing that one medieval fantasy alternate universe end-credits in season two.

MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU

Completely off the bat, the curls have always given me Jewish vibes.

Then there's the cunning and the calculating, the wild thinking-rampage he goes on, dissecting and analysing, playing though every possible scenario and picking the easiest approach for the desired outcome. The strictly academical approach, the brain over brawn.

I can also picture him circumcised. No specific reason.

Also, there's just a certain association with that type of resilience he has. Being a minority, but still aiming for the top. Some people will call it greed, but fuck them.

And, I don't know if you guys watch Eurovision, but Isreal won a couple of years ago with Toy by Netta Barzilai and can't you imagine Deku singing that at Bakugo like a fucking legend. Someone should make an animatic.

I'm not your toy! Not your toy!

You stupid boy! Stupid boy!

Also, I think Inko being the exact embodiment of a stereotypical Jewish mother having something to do with it too. Overprotective, smothering, overbearing, but loving and very proud of her son and his achievements.

THE TODOROKI'S

This is a tricky one.

All I know is I feel it's a mix of two ethnic groups/nationalities.

The brute power-obsessed Enji x the elegant kind Rei.

Britain x Scandinavia seems about right, but it could also be America x Canada.

Enji, for me at least, it might be the red hair, but he's like a brute Irishman or Scott. But same could be said about him being American.

And then Rei, because of the ice, is Scandi, like an elegant Swede. And again, same could be said about her being Canadian.

Shoto, to me, is so Swedish it hurts. But I can also see the Canadian in him. The aloof but kind personality. Pretty like a greek god, sharp facial structure, but pale like Jack Frost. The posh talk and the hidden psycho.

Edgy chainsmoker Dabi is like a British rockstar. Daddy Issues, The Neighbourhood anyone? But then again, take any some by Green Day, which is an American band, and it would be Dabi for me as well.

TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS

American.

Strictly based on air force pilots.

Aviator sunglasses. The fur suede jacket. The cargo-pants. The boots. The blown-back golden locks and the pearly-white smile, the royal-red wings, he's only missing baby-blue eyes.

Laid back, almost too chill. So cool you'd stutter when speaking to him.

SHINSO HITOSHI

French or german.

No idea why though.

They just have sexy snakey languages, being whispered in the ear with that accents would make me melt.

KIRISHIMA EIJIROU

So Australian it's almost exhausting.

There aren't any men manlier than the ones in Australia.

So fearless they're dumb with haphazard.

Crocodile Dundee anyone?

This guy would wrestle any animal that is up to the challenge, the crocs, the sharks, the kangaroos. He'd bite back. He'd punch.

Surfing. Boating. So tan. Always topless

Scars where he's scratched himself on the reef.

Fun, breezy personality. Not a care in the world. Just out here living life. The more danger, the better.

KAMINARI DENKI

Again, maybe a bit controversial.

But English, right?

Smooth talker with that sultry english accent, rock vibes, pot, fine dresser, quirky coloured slacks and brown leather belt, matching leather watch slapped around his wrist, tinted glasses with thin steel lining, hair-gel, untucked shirt with a ribbed white tee beneath the flannel.

Such a hipster it's almost nauseating.

Beatles, Doors, Rolling Stones, late night guitar practice by himself, amateur poetry with a bottle of beer.

Bottle-cap collector, tries a new local beer brand every time he drinks.

CHISKAI KAI

This one is Japanese, because of one word:

Yakuza.

Narrow eyes and pretty lashes. The way he looks at people like their dirt beneath his shoes. The mask.

Suit and tie, but something so anime like a purple faux-fur bomber-jacket.

Power, control, secrets, corruption.

Pride, honour, respect.

SHIGARAKI TOMURA

I have no idea?!!?!?!

THE FUCK, help??

.

These are just some honourable mentions:

TENYA IIDA

Japanese.

Respectful. Top grades and education focus. Family honour.

ASHIDO MINA

Afro-American.

Cool. Dance moves, street and breaking. Style. Hangs with the boys and the girls, no stress. Trash-talk and diss.

SERO HANTA

Just mexican for me, can't explain why.

YOAYOROZU MOMO

Italian.

Just that one innocent don daughter of the mob.

Wealthy. Stylish. Daddy's girl.

URURAKA OCHAKO

So cute, which is Japanese for me.

But then she's kinda chubby thicc too with the round doe-eyes eyes, and I feel her personality is kind of American.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

You’ll Have To Come and Find Me (Part 3) - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Ra’s al Ghul Summary: Damian wakes up to hear Tim screaming at someone familiar. A/N: Between Robin #3 and #4! Damian is not going to remember being semi-conscious for this because I said so.

Ao3

~~

When Damian felt consciousness take hold, his first thought was:

What the hell happened?

Connor Hawke and his coaches, the men Damian knew himself. They fought. He was thrown from a damn cliff. Then…his father caught…

No, not his father. Someone else. Some…something else?

He shifted onto his back, heart pounding. These were definitely not the blankets in Wayne Manor, or wherever his father was staying now. And the air…it still smelled tropical. He could hear the waves in the distance.

Was he still on Lazarus Island?

But before he could think about it further, before he could even force himself to wake up more, to focus and figure out what happened and where he was, there was a crash from outside where he slept.

A loud grunt snorted from behind him. His body didn’t move to react to it.

“…not believe you!” He heard shouted. Immediately, he felt his heart relax.

Drake.

“You really just don’t fucking let up, do you?” He was shouting, crashing continuing around him. He was knocking things over, Damian assumed.

“Settle, Young Detective.” Someone hummed. Someone who…who sounded a lot like his Grandfather. “You should be thanking me.”

“For what, kidnapping him?” Drake snarled. “Getting him beat to a pulp by your League of Shadows minions?”

There was a pause, then quietly. “I do not work with the League of Shadows any longer. I do not work with any of the Leagues I used to.”

“Bullshit.” Drake drawled. “But frankly, I don’t care. I don’t give a single shit about you. Just give Damian back to me.” A moment of tense silence. “Now.”

“He needs to heal. That’s what I was doing before you so rudely barged in here and knocked over all my tools.” Ra’s sighed. “And it’s not like I’m hiding him. He’s in my tent, right over there. Go see him, if you’d like.”

Drake said nothing else, but seconds later Damian heard the sound of footsteps in the sand.

The curtain across the door flapped open, and almost instantly there were cool fingers on Damian’s face.

“Damian,” Tim breathed, running his thumb across Damian’s cheek. Two fingers pressed against his throat. “Kid, can you hear me?”

Damian could only grunt. Tried opening his eyes, but even the low candlelight in the tent was too much. He had to squeeze them shut once more.

“Stay with me.” Tim whispered. “Come on, Dames, stay with me.”

Another rustle of the curtain. “I told you, Timothy. I was in the process of healing him.”

“For what?” Tim spat. “What do you get out of it?”

There was no answer. Damian heard his grandfather touching some papers and vials.

“…You don’t get to keep him.” Tim practically growled. “You don’t get to turn this into a debt that he has to repay.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Young Detective.” Ra’s hummed, like he was a tired parent. “…Did the Shadow goons get to you? Do you need some medical attention as well?”

“…No. No, I’m fine.” Tim sighed, gently patted at Damian’s chest. “I only caught the tail end of the fight. Saw them throw him. Saw what I now know was Goliath catch him and carry him off.”

Another large snort from the corner. Ra’s hummed.

There was silence for a few seconds. Just Tim with his hands on Damian’s face and chest, the sound of the waves and flickering flames. Breathing.

Then, a dip as Ra’s kneeled next to his cot, and the smell of herbs.

“…Timothy.” Ra’s hummed. Tim’s fingers twitched on Damian’s face. “You know the truth as well as I do, don’t you?”

“Depends on what that truth is.”

“…Damian should not be on that island.” Ra’s whispered. “He should not be involved in that tournament.”

“…I know.” Tim admitted quietly. Suddenly, a cold cloth was pressed against his arm. He gave a light moan and shivered. Tim gave a gentle shush. “But you know what they say, Ra’s. If you can’t be them, join them.”

Ra’s gave a chuckle. “I have a feeling you never said that about me.”

“I’d rather die.” Tim returned, just as cheerfully. Then his voice dropped again as he gave a long exhale. “But…he is right. There’s something not good about that tournament. And if he thinks he can take the operation down, I’m happy to be his backup.”

“Or his bodyguard.” Damian could hear the smirk in his voice. Tim scoffed. “You’re telling me you aren’t going to interfere if he begins to lose?”

“No.” Tim admitted. “Because he’s never going to get to that point.”

“Ah, you Bats and your confidence.” Ra’s laughed. “…He won’t be happy to see me.”

“I mean, I’m still not.” Tim agreed. “And I frankly still don’t trust that you don’t have ulterior motives.”

“Good. Stay on your toes.” Ra’s countered. Someone lifted Damian’s hand, and began rubbing an ointment on it. “You’ll protect him better that way.”

Tim didn’t answer that. For the next few minutes, no one spoke as Ra’s and Tim rebandaged and cleaned his wounds. Then, there was the sound of the curtain, and Damian sensed it was just him and his brother left.

Damian tried to roll over, gave a low groan. “Drake…!”

“You’re alright, Damian. It’s okay. You’re safe.” Tim swore. “We’re safe.”

Despite blearily hearing the conversation, and already sensing himself forgetting some of it, Damian wasn’t sure how much he believed that.

“Go back to sleep.” Tim whispered, running a hand over Damian’s head. It was lulling him back into the darkness. “I’m here, I won’t let Ra’s do anything to you.”

And Damian couldn’t help himself. As the darkness fogged over his mind, he croaked weakly, “…Promise?”

Tim’s hand stilled, and he watched Damian inhale, then go limp in unconsciousness. He gave the boy a sad smile, then carefully resumed petting at his locks.

“Promise.”

#Damian Wayne #Tim Drake #Ra's al Ghul

[ttttaehyungie]

masked | myg x reader

masked | min yoongi x reader oneshot

☘  pairing | min yoongi x vigilante superhero!reader ☘  genre | college au, superhero au, humor, romance ☘  rating | NC-17 ☘  word count | 5.2k ☘  warnings | swear words, major violence/fight scenes, some childhood trauma, sexual humor (it’s like,,, one word but i’ll just tag it anyway) ☘  summary | Between academics in the day and crime-fighting at night, and your dumb rivalry with that one pain-in-the-ass, fellow vigilante Vulture, you simply don’t have time for dating. But, damn, is it hard when your partner for project work is as cute as he is. ☘  a/n | y’aaallllll this was so enjoyable to write :’) I hope you all have as much fun reading as I did writing this!

Submitted as part of BWC’s 1st Anniversary Contest.

A fist flies towards your face. You dodge leftwards. You grab the hooligan’s arm where it lingers in the air from the failed punch. Twist. He yelps. But you show no mercy. You hold tight to his arm and spin sharply on your feet. Using the momentum from your movement, you throw him over your shoulder. Thud.

He’s dazed. You seize the chance to kick him over onto his front. Locking his arms behind him, you pin him down with a knee as you fumble around in your backpack for the ropes to bind him.

A giddy excitement bubbles up, effervescent in your chest. Finally! After weeks of failed attempts, you’re so close to a solid capture. It’s just a pickpocket; small fry, really. But it’s a capture nonetheless.

Just as long as- you peek upwards to check- ok. It seems you’re in the clear. Vulture isn’t here. Wait-

Something rustles to your right. You jump in shock.

The thug takes advantage of the shift in your weight. He wrestles his arms free and pushes himself up, and you go tumbling off him. Before you can recover, he’s already sprinting off into the distance. No! He’s getting away!

In panicked desperation, you raise a hand and shoot out a force field. Dumb move. It only boosts him forward, aiding his escape. Ugh. Your victory slips like sand through your fingers.

Crack. A flash of blue pops into the middle of the street.

You roll your eyes. Part of you is relieved that the thief is not getting away. But for the most part? Unbridled annoyance.

You slump back on the ground to watch Vulture teleport in, capture the thief that you’d spent the last twenty minutes pursuing, and teleport out. All under two minutes.

Just as he’s been doing for the last few weeks. Damn. When will you ever catch a break?

“Rough night?”

Seems like your stifled yawn was not concealed well enough. Feeling slightly self-conscious, you shoot him a sheepish smile.

“Yeah. Busy fighting those assignments, y’know.”

He hums in understanding. “Let’s take a five minute break. I’m getting tired too.”

You nod. Yoongi stretches his arms out above his head and leans to the side to get in a good side stretch. Meanwhile, you avert your eyes. The sliver of skin that peeks out from where his shirt rides up has your cheeks growing warm.

“I’m gonna fill my bottle,” you announce, getting up from your shared table. “Do you want anything?”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

The water fountain is just outside the library, but the short walk from the discussion pod and back is enough for you to shake off the drowsy haze you were in. By the time you return to the tiny room- they really weren’t kidding when they called it a pod- the spring is back in your step.

Yoongi looks up as you step back into the room and flashes you a smile. It’s small, but disarming as hell. Your heartbeat picks up.

“Recharged and ready to fight this project?” he jibes.

Right. The project. The project that you’re paired up for, literally for no other reason than sheer convenience. You just happened to be sitting next to each other when it was announced. But it’s fine. You’re chill, Yoongi’s chill. And that’s why you knew it was ok to just turn to him and ask, “Wanna pair up?”

The project is the only reason the two of you are talking. It’s not that you didn’t have any other opportunity to. Not at all. You’re both in the same course and you live in the same dorm.

And it’s not that you dislike the guy. In fact, far from it. If you’re being totally honest, Yoongi is 100% your type. Chill, and a laidback sense of humor with his light jokes. And not to mention, real easy on the eyes. With his platinum blonde hair- his dark roots just beginning to peek through- and striking eyes, all topped off with that heartstopping smirk of his, there is only one conclusion to be drawn. Yoongi is objectively attractive.

You’ve acknowledged this the moment you set your eyes on him at your dorm orientation tour. His blonde hair was freshly bleached at that point and pulled back in a snapback, showing off the bold, black brows that complemented his sharp, feline eyes.

It was uncontrollable. He’s just the kind of attractive that exerts a magnetic pull on your gaze, drawing you in relentlessly no matter how many times you avert your eyes.

And the kind of attractive that makes you lose track of what’s happening. You realized belatedly that you’d zoned out from the tour.

“-survival tips. Make sure you collect your laundry from the dryer promptly. One, because people who hog the machines are inconsiderate assholes. Two, because the dorm cat has a habit of stealing socks and underwear. So unless you like the idea of your unmentionables as surprise gifts for your neighbors- in which case, you’re a psychopath-, please just collect your laundry on time.”

A quick glance at the group around you confirmed that you’re not the only one bewildered by Jin’s words.

“Oh!” Jin’s voice cut through the buzz of confusion. “Just one last thing. There’s a strict no dating rule between the RA and students. I know, I know. It’s hard resisting this gorgeous face. But let’s all give it our best attempt, alright?”

You remember scoffing internally at Jin’s words. There’s just one simple rule you have for yourself in college. No dating.

Between your studies in the day and crime-fighting at night, you simply don’t have the time for it.

And it’s this same rule you have to remind yourself of as you tear your eyes away from the sight of Yoongi casually running his hand through his hair as he contemplates the project.

Just one last loop and- fuck. Did the loser call for backup? You drop the ropes to throw up a force field. The aluminum bat gets flung off into the distance, careening off your invisible force field. Thank god you heard the heavy footsteps approaching. You’ve been on the receiving end of baseball bat attacks, and let’s just say you’ve come to empathize greatly with baseballs after that experience.

You swivel to face him. Block his hook. Uppercut. The thug staggers backwards, clutching his jaw.

There’s movement in your periphery. The first guy has disentangled himself from the ropes. You spot him just as he breaks into a run. Shit. He’s escaping.

A kick lands itself in your side, sending you to the ground. Snap. A cold sense of dread fills the pit of your stomach as the visual of your wrist bent at an awkward angle registers in your mind. The tingling pain blooms as you shake it out.

But you don’t have time to take care of that right now. You’ll have to rely on the adrenaline to keep you going.

You take a second to check if your mask is still in place- alright, you’re good. Turning your attention back to the asshole that attacked you, you fix him with a glare. Before this, it was just a moral obligation to stand against lawlessness. Now, it’s personal.

You recover into a squat. Swipe a kick at his feet. He lands heavily. From his crumpled position on the ground, he makes a grab for you. But you shoot out a force field. The wind’s knocked out of him with the way he’s sandwiched between your blow and the hard asphalt.

Your kick is unnecessarily hard as you roll him onto his front. But an eye for an eye, y’know.

Learning from your earlier mistakes, you tie this one up swiftly.

“Ooh, kinky,” he mutters.

Your sharp retort sits tantalizingly on the tip of your tongue. But it’s too risky to speak. It’s far easier to get recognized by your voice than one would think. You would know. Even after over a decade, the memory of that gravelly voice still haunts you.

“I guess we’re doing this the hard way.” Smash! “I repeat. Where’s the safe?!”

No, you’ll never be able to forget it.

The thug beneath you grunts as you tug the knot extra tight. He deserves it anyway.

Now here’s the only part you hate about successful captures- lugging the offenders to the police station. It’s times like this you really wish you had a different superpower; superstrength, or superspeed, or, dare you say it, teleportation. You’ve considered using your force fields to lob the criminals forward, but all superpowers have their limits. It takes too much out of you to do that and you’ll be too drained to get back to the dorm by the end of it.

And so, with little care for how unglamorous it looks, you drag the thug all the way to the police station two blocks down.

It’s as you’re nearing the station, tasting the sweet relief of your task finally coming to an end, that you hear it- crack. The flash of blue pops up right before the station.

If it weren’t for the flash of blue and prominent crack sound, you wouldn’t have noticed him. Dressed head to toe in black- much like your own get-up-, Vulture manifests out of nowhere, together with a burly, scar-faced man. The other thug from earlier.

This is the closest you’ve been to Vulture. Before this, you’ve only ever seen him in the distance as he pops in to pick up your thugs and pops back out. But now, you’re close enough to pick up on the narrow gold trim that subtly lines his otherwise midnight black mask.

The thug in your hands groans at the sight of his accomplice having been caught. Vulture’s head whips towards you, finally alerted to your presence. Hurriedly, he drops ol’ scarface at the doorstep of the station and teleports out.

Damn, looks like you’ll be playing ding dong ditch by yourself again tonight.

Depositing the thug next to his accomplice, you thump on the door of the station twice and sprint back into the cover of the night.

The pain is truly setting in now. The adrenaline from earlier is all gone and there’s nothing sedating the pain. As if indignant from being ignored, the gnawing pain in your wrist comes biting back now with a vengeance.

But you’re already on campus grounds, so it’s just one more dash across the green, skirt stealthily around the building, up the tree to your second-storey dorm room, and you’ll be home free.

Your wrist throbs. At this point, you crave nothing more than to be showered and tucked into your bed in your jammies. Exhaustion from the entire ordeal laces your bones as you sneak your way back to the dorm.

Ok, it’s just round the corner now and- your heart leaps in your chest when you spot the shadow. Shit. In your impatience you’ve become complacent. You spin to identify the source and oh, thank god. It’s just the dorm cat skulking around in the quiet of the night.

Climbing the tree into your room has never been the easiest thing, but it’s made ten times harder with your wrist out of commission. But somehow, you manage it.

After a quick shower, you head to the shared kitchen to grab some ice for your wrist. You opt to leave the kitchen lights off, the shroud of darkness like a comforting blanket.

“Fancy seeing you awake.”

You jolt. Oh. Yoongi. You weren’t really banking on anyone else being awake.

“I could say the same to you,” you say, hand over your heart. “What are you doing up? It’s three am.”

He raises his water jug in reply. “What about you?”

“Lost track of time doing assignments,” you make up on the fly. “And then I tripped over my books in my sleepy state and busted my wrist.”

“Oh damn,” he says, hoisting himself off where he was leaning against the counter. “Can I take a look?”

His fingers are gentle as they turn your wrist to examine the damage. You try not to stare at how long and pretty they are. How is this even fair? How is it that even his fingers are attractive?

“It’s pretty swollen.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “Let me get you an ice pack.”

You don’t trust your voice, so you just nod, and move to sit.

He digs out someone’s bag of frozen peas and places it gently over your wrist where it lays on the table. The next fifteen minutes is spent in quiet conversation. Despite his quiet exterior, you discover that Yoongi is surprisingly easy to talk to. Of course, you’ve talked to him during your project meetings. But the content of your conversations then are largely restricted to the task at hand.

But here, in the midnight darkness, you find that the hushed words and laughter flow with such easy chemistry, and you desperately try not to fall any harder for him.

You take the peas- half-melted and dripping now- and dump it on the table. Wiping your wrist off on your shirt, you retrieve your bandage from your pocket and attempt to tie it yourself as Yoongi watches.

“Need help?” he offers.

“M’fine,” you reply distractedly.

“Really?”

Your family’s always lamented your obstinate nature, and you guess it’s not baseless.

Yoongi’s hand grasps yours. “Let me.”

Before your hand starts shaking from the nervous energy that’s growing in you, you let go of the bandage resignedly.

His expression is plain as he binds your wrist, as if this is a daily occurrence for him. Maybe it is. His movements look practiced, and the bandage is just tight enough that it restricts movement without cutting off blood circulation.

“You’re good at this,” you say. “Is there some secret side to you that you’re not revealing?”

He laughs a little. “I used to play basketball, and injuries were really common.”

You watch in fascination at the expert movements of his hands. Tucking the end of the bandage in, he pats your newly bandaged wrist lightly.

“All done.”

“Thanks, Yoongi.”

“Take care of yourself. I still need you alive for our project.”

Accompanying the usual morning bleariness that plagues you whenever you have just woken up, this morning it’s coupled with a dull ache in your wrist. Right. Your sprained wrist.

Shifting carefully to avoid placing any weight on your injured arm, you sit up to inspect the dressing. It’s a little mussed up, but its structural integrity is largely intact. Good, you won’t have to redo the bandaging then.

Or worse still, ask Yoongi to patch you up again.

Memories of the dimly lit kitchen come back to you, the faint glow of the corridor lights falling on the contours of his face, the high planes illuminated in an orange luminescence.

In the low light, the way his hands moved as they wrapped your wrist up wasn’t any less elegant and entrancing. The pressure that it exerted on your tender flesh was gentle, taking care not to aggravate the swollen injury.

Fuck. As if you weren’t already having a hard time holding off your feelings for him. Feelings had been bubbling up in you ever since orientation and they grew ever more persistent with each project meeting.

Why did he have to be attractive and nice? It would have been much simpler if he were just an asshole. But no, his personality just had to be as attractive as his appearance, didn’t it?

You stretch to work out the residual sleepiness, but your right rib aches in protest. Lifting your shirt and inspecting it in the mirror, a purplish bruise greets you. That sidekick really did a number on you.

Mornings like this really make you think twice about your decision to walk down the vigilante path. Mornings when the twinging pain of injuries sustained and the fatigue from having spent half the night patrolling the streets is just a little too much to bear. Mornings like this really have you wondering if you should just give it up for a normal college student’s life.

It’s truly tempting. The prospect of getting more than three hours of sleep per night is so delicious. Cuts and bruises would be a rarity. And the fluttery feeling of having a crush on a cute guy wouldn’t have to be marked as a distraction and suppressed into oblivion anymore. You want it. So much. Mornings like this, you really want to call it quits.

But your memory prevents you from doing so.

The way your mum’s hand trembled around yours as she urgently pulled you to the backroom is seared into your mind forever. Even now, your hand quivers.

Her eyes are wide with fear as she whispers, “Stay quiet.”

“The supers will be here soon, right, mum?” you ask.

“That’s right, ____.” She tucks your hair behind your ear with a shaky hand. “We just have to wait for the supers to get here.”

With that, she closes the door and the darkness envelops you. The padlock clicks just outside the door.

“Where’s the safe?” A gruff voice asks. Shivers trail down your spine.

“The cops are on their way,” you can hear your dad respond. Pride fills you at his bravery. “Look, you don’t have to do this. You can walk away right now and-”

“I guess we’re doing this the hard way.” Smash! “I repeat. Where’s the safe?!”

You can hear your mum’s pleas between hiccuped sobs.

“Well if you’re not going to tell me,” the voice continues, “I’ll just have to use brute force.”

More destruction ensues. You wince with every crash, keeping a lid on the whimpers that threaten to escape you. Where are the cops?! Where are the supers?!

“A locked door. Is that an indication of something?” The voice is close now; only the door stands between you.

Bam! The door before you rattles violently. You, too, shake in fear.

“I’ll tell you where it is!” Your dad panickedly relents. “The safe. I’ll tell you where the safe is.”

“Glad you changed your mind, old man.” The footsteps retreat.

And as you emerged from the room later that night, your nine-year-old eyes taking in the wreckage and the distinct absence of help from the police or from the supers that supposedly kept your city safe, your dreams shattered just like the glass shards that laid scattered across your parents’ store.

Ever since you discovered your powers at age five, it became your ambition to become a super. With a flashy power like yours, the chances of it happening were reasonably high.

But all that changed when your parents’ store was mugged. The supers you so admired were nowhere to be found. They were simply too busy fighting other bigger fish out there. And the police? It was a known fact that they’d gotten complacent ever since the advent of the supers.

And that left smaller stores- stores like your family’s- unprotected and susceptible to attacks by ruffian gangs that reigned in the streets. No one cares for petty crime. Not when there are bigger battles to fight out there. It was a flaw in the system.

A flaw that you aim to address through your vigilantism. What use were your flashy powers and lofty ambitions when you just remained frozen in inaction when the time calls for it? The gnawing guilt morphed into a thirst for redemption. You would become the defender of the streets.

So as lonely and draining as it is to live this life of masked identities, you can’t possibly give it up. Your conscience won’t let you.

Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to come out to the streets just days after sustaining your injury. But after icing and resting it for a day, you swear your wrist is feeling much better. Plus, you skipped your usual nightly patrols last night, but the guilt and worry had left you restlessly tossing and turning in bed. So here you are, mask on and back out on the streets.

The thug takes a swing at you. Normally you would have countered it with a block to follow quickly with a punch of your own. But with your wrist out of commission, you choose to duck down. Even your force fields would cause your wrists to absorb some impact, so the moves at your disposal are severely limited today.

You land a roundhouse kick to his side. He sputters. But he responds swiftly with a counterattack.

You’ve tried to attack mainly from your legs. Even so, your wrist feels the effects of the fight. Wrapped in its bandage, albeit sloppier than Yoongi’s expert dressing the other night but still secure enough, your sprained wrist throbs dully from the exertion.

In an attempt to soothe the ache, you roll it out- ah, the pain flares up your arm. You take deep breaths to work through the pain. You have to keep moving.

But it seems the thug has noticed your weakness. He moves quickly. Grabs your wrist and twists.

“AHHH!” The shrill scream of agony that escapes you is reflexive.

Somewhere in the midst of the white hot pain, you manage to scrape together enough sense of mind to shoot out a force field. It’s weak, and it adds yet another layer to your pain, but it’ll suffice. The thug stumbles back off-kilter.

You cradle your aggravated injury to your chest and blink back the tears. This was a bad idea. Maybe you should just give it up for tonight. It won’t be the first time a thug has gotten away, after all.

But it seems that he hasn’t had enough. He storms towards you, his face curled into a sneer.

You clench your fists. It protests in pain, but you ignore it and lower yourself into a fighting stance. You’re not sure what you can do now with the state that you’re in, but you have no choice.

Just as he picks up into a run, he’s yanked back. The immensity of the relief that washes through you as you hear that crack is so overwhelming, your legs go slightly jelly.

Vulture materializes, in his usual all-black attire, from beanie to combat boots. The gold trim of his mask glints ominously under the moonlight.

The thug takes a knee to the stomach. Vulture’s movements are so quick and sharp, the thug retches slightly. A right hook follows, without missing a beat. The thug veers to his right from its impact. But Vulture doesn’t give him an inch. He throws a left uppercut. A solid kick to the chest seamlessly completes the combo. The thug collapses in a heap on the ground.

Vulture moves like a predator on the hunt. The pace at which he stalks forward is completely unhurried. The lowlife attempts to crawl away, but he’s jerked back by the collar.

Still clutching your wrist, you watch dumbly as Vulture teleports away with the thug before you can get a word of gratitude in.

When you finally rouse from slumber the next morning, it’s from being jolted awake by the unmuffled blare of a car horn. The soundproofing in your room is shitty, but not normally this shitty. Turning to the window through which you slipped into your room last night, you realize it’s open. You were probably too tired to remember to shut it last night.

You pad over to the window, meaning to close it, when you step on something cool and smooth, but very unfamiliar. You retract your foot and look down.

Icy fear grips you. The sensation of it under your foot may have been unfamiliar, but the sight of it is definitely not. Laying on your floor is a black mask lined with gold trim.

What does this mean? Is it supposed to be a sign? Is it some sick joke? Has Vulture figured out who you are? What does he want from you?

Picking it up in your hands and skimming your thumb over the textured leather, you recall the way Vulture defended you last night. Sure, you get frustrated when he swipes your captures. But you can’t deny that, ultimately, you’re on the same side.

But having operated wordlessly all this while, and only coming in for the kill, Vulture remains an enigma. You can’t be sure of his real agenda when you’ve never fought side by side with him, let alone exchanged a word. But you can’t blame him either. You haven’t been one to break the silence either.

Perhaps you will have to now.

As it turns out, you don’t get the chance to. Break the silence, that is. For the third night in a row now, Vulture is a no show.

And for the third night in a row, the criminal gets away.

You’re tempted to blame it on your sprained wrist. But you can’t help but recall all the times thugs have slipped out of your grasp, only to be picked off by Vulture. Honestly, these last three days have you reluctantly acknowledging that your job is much harder without your silent partner.

You strain your ears in anticipation of a crack sound. But for the third night in a row, you’re left disappointed.

What’s up with all these no-shows lately?

You groan as the call gets diverted to voicemail yet again. It’s the seventh call you’ve dialled to Yoongi. Checking the time, it’s now half an hour past your agreed upon meeting time.

You slam your laptop shut. This is ridiculous. Does he think that his cute face will let him get away with everything? Just because he’s produced nothing but quality work in your pairwork so far doesn’t excuse anything.

Ok. Maybe you’re being a little harsh on him. Maybe.

But can you be blamed for being in such a crappy mood? After the shit show that was the last few nights of crime-fighting, you’re already in a foul mood. And now, hauling your sleep-deprived self out of bed and to the library at eight in the morning on a Saturday morning, only to have your partner pull a no-show? Who wouldn’t be pissed?

You shove your things into your bag and trudge back to the dorm. If you get to his room and he’s still in bed… No one can hold you responsible for what you’ll do next.

But you spot him, squatting by the shrubs that line the dorm, as you’re making your way across the green, and he’s very much awake.

You march up to him, intending to tap him on the shoulder and give him a piece of your mind.

“That damn cat,” you hear him mutter. You pause, curiosity piqued. “THIS is why dogs are man’s best friend, not cats. Holly would NEVER.”

“Looking for something?” you ask. He jumps, and turns around.

“Oh, ____,” he says, standing up from his crouched position. “Yeah, I lost something.”

“Funny, because I was looking for something too for the past-” you check your watch dramatically “- half an hour now.”

He gasps. You can pinpoint the exact moment the realization hits him. “I’m so sorry! It totally slipped my mind.”

You sigh. He’s honestly too cute. As it turns out, the answer is yes. His cute face will indeed let him get away with everything; your anger is completely diffused.

“Let’s just take a break this week,” you say.

“You don’t have to do that on my account. Just give me five minutes to grab my stuff.”

“Nah, we’ve made sufficient progress on this assignment that we’ve earned it. And you look like you’re too troubled by whatever you’ve lost anyway,” you say with a wave of your hand.

You pause, weighing your next words. But damn your soft spot for him. “Hey, do you want an extra pair of eyes to help you look?”

He considers your offer for a second. Then, hesitantly, he says, “Ok. Yeah. That’d be great actually.”

“So what are you looking for?”

He purses his lips. Did the cat really steal his underwear? Whatever he’s lost must be pretty embarrassing if it’s this hard to tell you.

Finally, he sighs and spits it out. “I know it sounds weird but I’m looking for a mask.”

You feel your jaw go slack.

“A mask?” you echo hollowly. “Like a ski mask?”

“No, um.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Y’know what, forget I said anything. I’m sure I’ll find it myself.”

He turns back to inspecting the bush. But now you have to know.

“Is it a black mask? With gold trim?”

Yoongi freezes for a second. It’s all the answer you need.

He laughs, and you can tell it’s forced. “Have you seen it?”

“No way.” It’s a mumble at first, then it all comes tumbling out of your mouth. “No way. No way! YOU’RE Vulture?!”

“Vult- What?!”

“Right. Sorry. That’s just the name I gave you because you keep swiping my thugs. And yes, I’ve seen it. Seen it every night you pop in and steal my captures.”

“Wait,” he says, his eyes growing wide as he comprehends what you’re saying. “YOU’RE that hot vigilante with the cool force fields? The one who can’t keep the thugs restrained for nuts?”

“Is that what you think of me?”

“Hey. You have no grounds to complain. Not when you call me Vulture.”

“I’m so tired,” you manage to whine through a whisper. “We bagged three criminals tonight. Can’t you just teleport us back to the dorm?”

“You know we can’t do that, love,” he whispers, rubbing your back. “My powers aren’t the most stealthy. And c’mon, we’re almost there.”

Behind your own mask, you smile contentedly. The lonely nights of crime-fighting have become not so lonely after all.

As it turns out, your synergy with Yoongi is not limited to academic work. It’s been a month now and your teamwork functions like a well-oiled machine, your force fields weakening the thugs and directing them to where Yoongi waits in the shadows to teleport them off to jail where they belong.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, barely maintaining your hushed tone. The dorm cat slinks round the corner, yanking you out of your thoughts.

“That damn cat,” Yoongi mutters.

You pinch his ear, one of the few exposed parts of his body in this attire. “If not for ‘that damn cat’, we wouldn’t have gotten together. You have much to thank this cat for.”

You can’t see it but you know that he’s rolling his eyes.

“You have no defence because you know I’m right,” you taunt.

“Fine, you are,” he says and begins to lift his mask to lean in for a kiss.

You pull it back down. “Don’t get distracted now. We can cuddle later when we’re back safe, ok?”

He huffs, but there’s a spring in his step that was not there before.

And as the two of you round the corner to clamber back up to the safety of your room, the dorm cat watches with eyes aglow in the moonlight.

Your window clicks shut. It’s safe now. Jin shape-shifts out of his cat form and smirks to himself. He still remembers the mutually stolen side glances from orientation. How could he not ship your two dorky asses?

And all the sneaking around that both of you were doing every night, unaware that you both had a masked companion in each other?

But ah, it seems that you’ve finally got your shit together. All he did was nudge you in the right direction. Looks like it worked. Mission accomplished.

#btswriterscollective #ficswithluv #btsbookclub #btswritingcafe #btsguild #bts college au #bts superhero au #bts humor #bts romance #bts oneshot #bts fic #bts x reader #yoongi college au #yoongi superhero au #yoongi humor #yoongi romance #yoongi oneshot #yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #myg college au #myg superhero au #myg humor #myg romance #myg oneshot #myg fic #myg x reader

[aprillikesthings]

Can I squeeze in one more tonight let's find out

(and then it's time for an edible, a shower, and the last chapter of that kinky Adora/Huntara fic that I mentioned in this post)

s3 ep3 Once Upon a Time in the Waste

First, Catra's little self-indulgent pity party for herself at Scorpia

angy kitty!!

But yeah Catra's acting all nihilist as fuck in this episode just all "I don't give a shit about anything" in that way that makes it painfully obvious she in fact gives many shits about many things and is trying to convince herself as much as anyone else

Anyway at the end of the bar Huntara's previous friend are like UGH THAT SHE-RA BITCH and Catra literally says, "Are you kidding me?"

"not that like, I care, or anything, but where'd they go"

Scorpia: uhhhh why are we asking about them when that's not what we're here for???

to be fair to Catra this is in fact correct

her little emo speech here is so cringey

that said I am in fact amused that they did a close up on her butt

(lol I was LITERALLY just talking to @corpseauthority about the scene in Steven Universe where Peridot pulls the little alien shorts over her butt while giggling, and I found the post I made about it at the time)

Adora, Huntara, Bow, and Glimmer are poking around Mara's abandoned old ship, which has had most of its guts stolen for parts, but you can still hear Mara's voice saying "She-Ra. Etheria. Gone." It's spooky

every time Catra gets a new jacket I get gayer

Scorpia: this is fun :) Catra: ha ha yeah

And then they get ambushed

Meanwhile they find Mara! or a hologram of her anyway. It is unfortunately just a recording on a loop.

Adora has another understandable breakdown of sorts, and bangs on a dead console, and voila:

"Oh I have one of those, I guess I just stick it in"

-and another recording starts up

"if you're seeing this, it means you wield the sword. You're the new She-Ra. It means I failed. I was supposed to be the last. And I am so, so sorry."

Back to Catra etc., and both me and Catra laughed the first time someone said Tung Lashor

(I assume this is a character name they were stuck with from the original series, and I've noticed they mostly avoid lampshading the goofy names but sometimes you just have to)

CLAW HIS FACE

(she throws sand in his eyes instead, and then falls into the quicksand, and she takes the whip)

fangie!!! I was just thinking about how it's been a while lol. Anyway now all the random fighters in the Crimson Waste are chanting her name.

AAAAAND back to Mara

Side note: Mara definitely looks older than Adora

"We were the first ones to settle Etheria, to really study this planet's magic. How could it go so wrong?"

but then it starts breaking up--

"Light Hope use the --can't--weapon--the weapon--weapon"

"I opened a portal to a completely empty dimension and pulled Etheria in. I hid us from the rest of the universe to keep everyone safe. This is the one place they'll never find us. I saw what they would do. The deaths that would follow. I couldn't stop them before but I can now. Hiding is our only option. Maybe it's been a week. Maybe it's been thousands of years. I never wanted to be a hero. I won't be remembered as one.

"With it, you can activate a portal. So I'm begging you. Don't do it. Leave us here. If you open a portal death and destruction will follow.

"If not, everyone will--"

and the message cuts out and the room goes dark again.

AND THEN, TRANQ DARTS but we know who has those now don't we

But also bc of that kinky fic I'm reading this screenshot is v entertaining

I will never stop screenshotting the way their expressions change when they unexpectedly hear the other's voice

Catra's "hey Adora" is one of the better ones ngl

the minions take down Huntara (with two blowdarts), Adora grabs the sword, Catra grabs that with the whip, Scorpia has Adora held in a pose that is Not Suggestive At All, Actually

Huntara gets up, grabs Bow and Glimmer and runs, and Scorpia knocks out Catra with her tail venom

whomever storyboarded this episode draws unreasonably sexy Catras.

Anyway Catra gives a toast to Scorpia which is very nice of her but to be fair she is an excellent mood. We get to hear Catra's genuine happy laugh for the first time in like a whole fucking SEASON

poor Scorpia. Catra is only encouraging her :(

"Hey, this is fun, and it's called a 'party!'"

Catra gives a little speech about how YAY SHE HAS THE SWORD it's the key to the whole PLANET and NOW Hordak will have to respect her!!!

Scorpia: orrrr since you literally hate your life back there, we could just stay here?

the way she's hugging the sword tho

Me: I'm reading too much into things Scorpia: pssht forget Adora Catra: *ears visibly droop* Scorpia: anyway let's rule the Crimson Waste!!! Catra: uhhhh, I'm gonna go check on Ad--uh our prisoner Scorpia: *saddest face ever*

🎵more cartoon bondage🎶

whyyyyy is she so hot

Adora: did u know Hordak is trying to open a portal that allows a huge Horde army from space to find Etheria and murder us all Catra: duh I'm in the Horde I'm cool with that >:3 Adora: did I mention the part where they MURDER ALL OF US, THAT INCLUDES YOU

Adora's face tho

Catra: also pfft how do you know Hordak's plans anyway Adora: oh our evil mom Shadow Weaver told me, did I not mention she's at my place Catra: UGGGH

(now hate-fuck!)

Catra: so you're saying the reason Shadow Weaver ran off from the Fright Zone and got my ass sentenced to death in the Crimson Waste is because she wanted to hang out with you instead???? this is ALL YOUR FAULT??

(yeah this would in fact hit all of Catra's angriest/saddest buttons, and yeah of course she'd blame Adora and not Shadow Weaver)

Catra is lookin' a little deranged at this information but also

ahahaha

but yeah the party was still going on

The list of people that consistently make Catra visibly cry: Adora Shadow Weaver

"We are going to open a portal. And we are going to crush them all."

EPISODE OVER and in retrospect I should've given up and posted it and reblogged it bc I had to delete like ten images so I could post some really good ones near the end there

and this episode only took *checks clock* forty minutes longer than I was hoping. sigh.

#april rewatches spop #once upon a time in the waste

[ziezie13]

So I watched The Mummy for the first time last night and I am appalled that there is only one Drarry Mummy AU. The thing practically writes itself. Rick O'Connell = Harry Potter, Evelyn Carnahan = Draco Malfoy.

After the war, Draco was exiled either officially or socially and has taken up residence in Alexandria, Egypt where he works as a librarian, restocking the ancient library that had been lost. Over the years he has also become the foremost experts in dead languages. But he never wins any grants for his research because of the bias around his ex-death eater status. One day an artifact comes across his desk, a strange puzzle box. Draco solves the thing over evening tea, of course (also he has reading glasses now because that is hot). Inside is a map to Hamunaptra, the ancient Egyptian city of the dead that has become no more than legend and most people believe never existed. Draco is ecstatic because the last recorded location of the Book of Amun-Ra and most myth is founded in reality as he knows. He takes the map to his boss who laughs in his face and accidentally burns off a piece of the map with a badly placed candle. Draco asks where the puzzle box came from and someone tells him it was confiscated from some treasure hunter at the local prison. Draco goes to the prison only to find Harry bloody Potter in chains and looking very disheveled.

Potter's hair is long and greasy, he had a matted beard, covered in dirt and grim, and wearing rags. But Draco would recognize those bright green eyes anywhere. Potter does not seem to be as surprised to see Draco as Draco is to see him which frustrates him to no end. Turns out Potter dropped out of the Auror program years ago and has been working as a freelance curse breaker in the Egyptian desert ever since. He landed his ass in prison after a drunken bar fight where he was arrested with multiple legal magical artifacts. After composing himself, Draco asks Potter about the puzzle box.

"You want to know about Hamunaptra." A statement not a question.

"How did you know the box was connected to Hamunaptra?"

"Because that is where I found it."

"You've been to Hamunaptra."

"Yes."

"Why should I believe you?"

Potter's smile fades immediately at those words. "I don't lie, Malfoy. Besides, you have the proof in your hands."

Draco weighs Potter’s words and shows him the damaged map. "Could you complete this?"

Harry studies the map for a few seconds. "No."

Draco wilts.

"But I could take you there. If you can get me out."

The next day after a few well placed bribes Draco picks Potter up from the prison. "So what first?"

"First I need a shower and a shave."

They go to Draco’s flat where Potter cleans himself up. He emerges from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and fuck Potter has absolutely no right to look like that. His skin has a bronze hue, golden from the sun, and there are just so many muscles. His facial hair has been trimmed to a sexy scruff and his long hair is now clean and dripping wet. Draco follows the path of a drop as it drips down Potter’s chest and disappears into the towel.

"I don't suppose you have any clothes that might fit?"

Draco gives Potter a shirt and trousers. Potter pulls his hair into a messy bun. The trousers are too long, so Potter rolls them up a bit. Both the trousers and shirt fit snugly in more that a few places. Draco knows a charm that would fix that but decides to keep it to himself.

"Why are you so set on getting to Hamunaptra? Need some more dark artifacts to round out your collection?"

Draco frowned. "If you must know I am searching for the Book of Amun-Ra so that I can return it to the Library."

"And this has nothing to do with the fact that the book is made of solid gold."

"You know your history, Potter?"

"I know my treasure."

They then go into town to get supplies and transport. Turns out there is a group of Americans also headed for Hamunaptra and they have a guide who also claims to have been there before. And so the race is on. The city is magicaly protected so they can't apperate or use a portkey. They will get as close as they can using the river then ride camels the rest of the way. What they don't know is that there is a secret society that has protected Hamunaptra from outsiders for centuries. On their first night on the boat they are attacked. A masked figure tries to steal the map and the puzzle box. Draco and Potter jump overboard and escape but they lose the map. Doesn't matter though, because Potter assures Draco he knows the way. Their clothes and supplies are still on the ship though and Draco is in pajamas. They find a local market and Potter pays for some new clothes for Draco and a couple of camels. They set off for Hamunaptra and arrive at the exact same time as the Americans. They wait for the sunrise to reveal the ancient city and ride in. They set up separate camps and dig sites. Draco uses his expert knowledge to find them a prime location. That night the masked riders return and attack both camps. They warn both parties that they have one day to leave or they will die. Draco gets drunk and has a heart to heart with Potter.

"Can I kiss you Potter?"

"Only if you call me Harry."

Draco moves in close but passes out on Potter’s chest before they can kiss.

The next day it is back to business because they are on a clock now. The American's find the Book of the Dead and an ancient magic settles over them as they pull it out. They read from the book and accidentally activate an ancient curse that awakes the Mummy.

The mummy sucks the life/magic from one of the Americans becoming more alive looking.

Some other people die. Harry and Draco manage to escape but not before Draco is marked by the mummy.

They regroup at a hotel in a nearby town and devise a plan. One of the Americans decides to peace out and tells the others to have a nice life. The leader of the masked men shows up and chastises them for activating the curse. He tells them about the mummy, Neferkarê. Neferkarê was an ancient priest, i.e. wizard, sentenced to death along with his lover after breaking his vows. He placed a curse as he died that would ensure that one day he would awaken and resurrect his lover. The mark that he placed on Draco signifies that Draco will be the sacrifice to bring Neferkarê's lover back. Draco reads from the Book of the Dead and they learn that Neferkarê is weakened still and will need to suck the life/magic out of the Americans who unearthed the book before he can do the ritual to resurrect his love. Draco also figures that there must be a spell that can stop Neferkarê written in the Book of Amun-Ra. He goes over the layout of the city in his head as well as everything he has read about it and deduces where the book must be. Potter then locks Draco in the bedroom.

"This is for your own safety. The Mummy marked you, not me. I will rescue the American, get the book, bring it back, and then you can fix it."

Potter and the masked man go after the American who left, to warn him. Meanwhile Draco dies of boredom. He paces in the room trying to find a way out. Neferkarê shows up and drains the two Americans that Harry left behind to guard Draco. He then becomes sand and enters Draco’s room reforming. Draco fights him but Neferkarê has drained all four Americans at this point and kidnaps Draco.

Potter arrives just as Neferkarê grabs Draco and dissolves into a dust storm.

Potter chases after them across the desert on a broom.

Seeing Potter following them he stops and sends a sandstorm right for Potter. Draco attacks Neferkarê again and breaks his concentration so that Potter can get away. Potter crashes his broom but Draco is hopeful that he is still alive after all Potter has survived much worse.

Neferkarê finishes taking Draco back to Hamunaptra and ties him down to the ritual alter. He begins to prep the ritual and Draco can only hope that Potter shows up with the Book of Amun-Ra. Things look pretty grim for a moment but Potter shows up at the last minute and severs Draco’s bonds. Neferkarê resurrects other mummies that begin fighting Potter and turns his attention back to Draco. Draco meanwhile is trying to get the book open but it requires a key i.e. the puzzle box which is now in the possession of Neferkarê. Draco and Neferkarê battle a third time. Draco knows he is no match for Neferkarê, Harry might be - maybe, but he is otherwise occupied at the moment. So Draco outwits Neferkarê and gets the key. He reads from the book but before he can finish the spell Neferkarê recovers and turns on Draco again knocking the book away. Harry finished up with the undead army but he doesn't know if he should go for Draco or the book. Draco makes the decision for him.

"The book, Harry! Get the book."

Harry obeys and flips the book open to the right spot.

"I can't read this Draco."

"Just describe the last symbol to me."

At this point Neferkarê has begun to choke Draco to death.

"It’s some kind of bird. A stork!"

"Ahmenophus." Draco chokes out.

Draco manages to say the entire incantation and Neferkarê drops him and staggers back. But after a beat he seems fine and goes after Draco again.

Harry steps in and fires off a spell. "I thought that was supposed to kill him."

Draco shakes his head. "It made him mortal."

The structure begins to shake and threatens to collapse in on itself. Draco and Harry share a look and head towards the exit. Neferkarê refuses to leave his lover and ends up buried alive.

Draco and Harry emerge from the sand unscathed and share a passionate kiss before riding off into the sunset.

#drarry #draco x harry #prompt #the mummy #fanifiction #ok now someone write this please #because I ain't got time