emerald glow


Soulmate AU where reader has a unique set of wings where they comfort her when she’s upset and glow when she’s in the presence of her soulmate. Pairing: Cas x Reader

feedback would be crucial as this is my “come back” piece from hiatus.  so if you reblog or like, please tell me why.  i need  validation. thanks.

Originally posted by pale-horse-dark-girl

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Bright as the Night Sky (Part 10):

Wow! 10 chapters in! I didn’t think this fic could be so long! As always I assumed it would be this short sappy fic and then I just get carried away with the scenes and the characters so here it is! 

Shout Out: @sparkleywonderful @dr-woodsprite @iwouldtrustmylifetohagrid @fck-tamlin @the-bookish-soul @cchcutie @mm23219 @feyreismeiamfeyre @rowanismybae @daughterxofxnight @acourtofrunesandwands @acourtofwishesandrhys @theatrebabe224 @dragonbound135 @acourtofredqueens @iamanthophilous @feysandfeels @feysand9299



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Part 7:

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Part 9:

Part 11:

Part 12:

Part 13:

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You Can Do What? || old man logan

Originally posted by akamatthewmurdock

2nd Logan oneshot of the day.. I’ll probably have 2 Charles Xavier ones coming after this so I can finish his requests! The prompt was so RAD I couldn’t pass it up. It’s shorter then most, and you can read it as platonic. Takes place before the events of Logan. Enjoy!

Requested by Anon: It’s as simple as this. You’re a mutant and you’re the closest thing Logan has to a best friend; the only problem with that is he is completely oblivious to the fact that you’re also a mutant. The weird thing about your mutation? You have the ability to morph your entire body into adamantium. 

Tag List: @house-of-penguin @drewkelliii @weasleytheking @agirlinherhead @buckybabble @itsbrittbrattt @liveourlifelikenobodyelse @hookedonawolverine @tigers-have-teeth @castawaybarnes @katiedreamy @xavier-chxrles 

This is crap lol and probably OC for Logan

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Sketch Random + Fanfic Translation.

Translation by: @miguelcool2000

A One-shot follow up story to the comic “Random Sketch”

Title: “If he just…”

“Kill him”

For a second, that idea crossed her mind while her finger trembled over the trigger of her gun.

Her heart would beat painfully inside her chest, suffocating her, the purest and most gruesome hatred was born within her being, rising like hot lava in her esophagus and choking her throat.

The bovine laughed maniacally in front of her , twisting and bending, mocking at what the act one of his henchman had accomplished.

She looked at Nick’s body lying still on the floor, blood starting to form a puddle around his figure.

Judy fought back her own tears.

-          Oh, come on, lieutenant Hopps, don’t tell me you really care for that piece of scum.- Del Toro stated in an annoyingly fancy manner and licking his own lips while stressing each word.

“Kill him!”

-          Shut up! – She rose her voice using all her will not to pull the trigger in that very moment.

“Just kill him at once!”

She heard again her own voice in rage trying to impose its actions. But she couldn’t. She was a police officer, a Lieutenan . She couldn’t let her emotions be shown so easily.

-          Anyway, who’s gonna miss such a scumbag loser like him? It’s a fox, a species that is just a plague to this world…

That was the last straw. How did he dare to say that? What did he know about foxes? What the hell did he know about nick?

“Kill him!”

This time she would follow her instinct.

-          You son of a…

-          Judy, don’t! – shout a voice she thought she was never going to hear again and turned around, her eyes meeting the fox’s looking back at her from the ground, his own shining with an emerald glow, trying to communicate thousands of thoughts, since shouting has left him exhausted – …you are better than that… dumb bunny… - murmured the vulpine with a weak voice and lost consciousness in consequence.

-          Nick!

-          Lieutenant Hopps! – exclaimed a gray hare getting close at full speed while followed by a group of mammals. He went towards his female counterpart whereas the other officers cuffed Del Toro. –Are you ok?

Wilde had interfered at the right time. He have saved her from doing something stupid. She could barely see the metallic cuffs around the ex-politician’s hooves and without even answering to her subordinate she hurried herself next to Nick.

-          Just if you hadn’t save him that day at the court, that idiot would have died long ago and you would live a simple life and I would have everything I ever wanted! – She heard the claiming of the furious criminal, but she ignored him.

-          Nick? … Can you hear me? … Hey Nick, Nick! She said without getting an answer. She remembered the first aid course and pressed her trembling paws against the wound. She had to do something, she had to stop all that blood, but the hemorrhage didn’t seem to stop. – Savage!

-          The ambulance is on its way lieutenant. – He claimed as he checked the fox’s vitals. - You’d better hurry. His heartrate is declining hastily. – He shout over the radio on his shoulder.

A few seconds later the sirens could be heard.

-          Listen to me Lieutenant Hopps – said one of the caribous who checked the one with the emerald eyes – Don’t stop pressing, the wound is in a critical state and your paws are the only thing that keeps him alive at this moment. So, until we can make it to the hospital, don’t let go. Understood?

She nodded and the paramedics performed some maneuvers in order to get them both inside the ambulance.

Everything else was blurry in her mind when she less expected it, she was already sat on one of the enormous chairs in the waiting room of the Memorial Hospital Zootopia.

-          You should take a break – claimed Jack Savage forgetting the formalities, after all despite she being his superior, they were old childhood friends. He offered her some coffee.

-          No. I’m not leaving until I know he’s fine… - answered Judy while accepting the bitter drink.

-          The surgery they are performing will at least take another 10 hours and we still have to prepare the reports of the case – but she didn’t move an inch.

-          I can’t leave him – her eyes filling with guilt.

Jack stared at her intensively and sighed – Well, at least go take a shower, your clothes are a mess.

She was about to refuse again when the one with the blue irises interrupted her.

-          Go to my apartment – he held the keys in front of her – it’s conveniently located just  a few blocks from here, it won’t take more than 30 minutes, I’ll stay here and will call you in case anything happens. OK?

She doubted a little, but ended up accepting and headed to the house of her once neighbor and younger brother’s best friend.

As if she were a zombie, she crossed streets and every mammal she came across stared at her covered in blood, which caused some of the predators to have problems with their collars so she hurried her steps.

She made it to Jack’s place and went straight to the bathroom, she looked at herself in the mirror and became horrified, Nick’s blood was everywhere, her hands, face, clothes, her badge…

In a frenzy, she took off the clothes and quickly went inside the cold water pouring down from the shower since the blood was already dried. Otherwise, it would be harder to wash it from her fur.

Damn it!

How had she let that situation end like it did?

She strongly punched the wall, her knuckles went numb due to the pain.

-          Damn it! - She yelled with rage. She was at her limit, and couldn’t keep enduring her own feelings any longer.

She allowed herself to cry. She cried out of powerlessness, anguish, fury, pain and fear.

She cried for Nick Wilde, a predator, a fox, who she had unrightfully called a murderer and turned out to be the most noble, and kindest of the creatures; someone who was just trying to make his dreams come true and help others with their own.

Someone she labeled as untrustworthy and became my only ally. Someone she came to fear, but now felt a deep regard for to unsuspected levels; because he had earned through all means a very special place in her heart.

Those things she had tried to forget due to the involving circumstances that created a barrier between them. But all those circumstances had vanished the moment she saw him falling hurt, all her prejudice disintegrated in an instant.

Sincerely, what made them different from each other?

Being pray and predator?

A fox and a rabbit?

Male and female?

Though that could be said, that wasn’t what really made them different.

The only thing that could draw that line, where the obedience collars. Those damn collars. She felt embarrassed of the fact that she once thought those artifacts were the best invention in history.

She was wrong. The whole society and she were wrong. It was just a horrible tool to keep the divisions between pray and predator, the generator of an endless cycle of hatred.

Something that wasn’t necessary at all as predators weren’t some insensible beasts. Those things only took away that which thousands of mammals presumed to have granted them, their freedom.

And Nick had been the one to teach her that. He had shown her a whole new world, a cruel image and a beautiful reality of which was actually wrong.

And how did she pay him back?

By letting someone with his own stupid ambitions shoot him right to the heart.

Did she really deserved to carry a badge if she tolerated that the innocent were victims of such atrocities? Not if he died, it would just be a terrible confirmation.

A chill went down her spine.

Nick could really die any second and she was standing there dumbfounded thinking about stuff that didn’t matter in that precise moment.

She shook her head franticly and crouched in the shower.

-          He’s not going to die…- she told herself.

After bathing herself, she turned off the faucet, put on some of Savage’s clothes and hurried back to the hospital.

She made it back faster than she took to leave.

-          Jack. – She called the name of the gray bunny as she made her way to where he was sitting.

-          There aren’t any news yet. – He claimed as he jumped down from the elephant size chair.

-          Good, thanks for the shower, I’ll give these back – she pointed to the black outfit from the ZPD she was wearing – tomorrow. Is that OK?

-          Sure. You know you can give them back anytime.

Five hours passed without any of them saying a word. Hours in which Judy’s heart never stopped beating painfully and aguishly in her chest, just expecting to get some news on the fox’s health.

Her friend’s phone broke the silence that reigned in the waiting room, after all they were in the most desolated wing of the hospital.

The hare with the sapphire colored eyes stepped outside to take the phone call and came back a few minutes later.

-          It was Captain McHorn, he says Superintendent Bogo has given Del Toro’s case top priority, and he wants us to write the reports as soon as…

-          You should go to the precinct first, I’ll call the boss and write the report later.

-          Alright. Do you want me to get your laptop from the office?

-          If you could, please.

-          Ok. Then, I must take my leave. I’ll come back later. Cheer up Jude, that fox is gonna make it – he called her as when they were kids while he smiled at her and pressed her shoulder – excuse me Lieutenant Hopps  - he straightened up before departing and she nodded.

Each minute seemed like an eternity, she looked at the clock on the wall, 4:15 am. The 10 hours Jack had calculated the surgery would last had already passed, but there was no signs of any doctor so far.

As soon as that thought hit her, the red light on the sign “Surgery in process” turned off and an elephant came through the sliding doors.

-          Nicholas Wilde’s family? – He asked as on cue and the lieutenant immediately got close.

-          He has no family, I’m his tutor. - She claimed showing her badge. - How is he doing?

-          He lost a lot of blood, the bullet pierced an important artery and got stuck in a difficult area to operate, he also suffered two heart attacks while on surgery, but we could resuscitate him. The surgery has been a success. We will take him to Intensive Therapy and he will have to stay in observation for the next days, and depending on his evolution we’ll be able to transfer him to a private room.

Her heart burst with joy.

-          May I see him? – She asked after listening attentively to the doctor.

-          Of course, but it must not be more than a few minutes.

-          Thanks doctor.

-          Don’t worry. I’ll tell the nurse in charge the instructions so you can see him, I’m leaving now.

Hopps brought her hands to her chest and squeezed them against herself, shedding another couple of tears, but this time she cried out of relief.

Thank goodness he was still alive.

-          Thanks. Thanks. – She repeated while crouching.

She never thought the day she would be happy to hear the beeping of a vital signs monitor, because it gave her the certainty that, though a bit weak and paused, Nick Wilde’s heart kept beating.

She sat on the booth near the hospital bed, which to her fortune was the right size for the vulpine species.

With some fear, she took his paw between hers, squeezing it gently, trying not to hurt him nor messing with the tubes with saline solutions that were plugged into him.

She admired his red-haired face and noticed how exhaust and haggard he appeared to be, also his fur seemed a bit pale somehow, and she felt a deep sorrow to see him in that state.

She infinitely thanked the fact that by medical procedure the collar that slaved him had to be removed.

-          Thanks for staying alive. Thank you for saving me…

Had he died, she would have gone and killed the son of a bitch who shot him with her own hands. If Nick hadn’t stopped her, she would have become into a murderer. If he had stopped existing, she wouldn’t care about anything anymore.

But he was still here, in the same world as her, and from that moment on she swore that she would do anything within her power and even more to make his dream come true.

To create a world where anyone can be anything they want to be.

However, she knew it wouldn’t be easy, but it didn’t matter. If he just stayed by her side to fight for it, the time they would take to achieve it wouldn’t matter.

After all, she didn’t need anything else but him.

-          …Carrots?…

The End

A Forehead Kiss, Goodnight. 💋

@bikingthroughhawkins 💖

Over the time El had been staying in Mike’s basement, Mike had gotten to know El a little more each day. At first, he knew nothing about her, she was just some stranger, sort of living in his basement. But, as the time went by, he got to learn a little more about her, and once she was familiar and comfortable in Mike’s presence, she would open up a little more to him everyday.

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anonymous asked:

I know its too much for asking but could you write a little something for the alien boyfriend au? Its the cutest shit ever and i have never read something like that before. Pretty plssssssss?

*Bat glare* People need to stop requesting whilst requests are not open… HOWEVER… I am feeling generous tonight so you are in luck.

I’m assuming you meant the dickkory week drawing by @dar-draws, yus?

I shall do my best to give you a written piece. Just a little one though.


Kory sighed as she leaned against the railing of her balcony.

He was late again.

2 hours late.

She wanted to be mad and be the typical girlfriend and throw a hissy fit because something more important had apparently taken up his time; something that couldn’t be ignored.

Tilting her head, she surveyed the night time skyline of Bludhaven. Multi-coloured lights winked at her and a chilly breeze rustled her long red hair.

Kory shivered and pulled her purple robe around her body a little tighter. She should probably change out of the surprise she had on for him. Lingerie and a Fall bite were not the greatest of combinations.

There was still a small amount of hope in her heart that he would show up but the doubt was slowly sinking in.

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Daddy's Gun

She could feel the cold barrel of the gun as it pressed underneath her chin. It was a pretty weapon, a large purple revolver with solid gold embellishments and a crowned skull emblazoned on the side. Red rubies winked in the eye sockets, glimmering as Dr. Harleen Quinzel felt the tears began to roll down her cheeks.

“M-M-Mr. J…” she stammered.

“Shut up,” he growled.

“P-P-Please… please don’t kill me.”

“I said shut… the fuck… up.” The metal jammed harder into head, rapping against the bone of her jaw.

Oh, the irony was rich. She was the one that had brought him the revolver, after he’d asked her for a machine gun during their last session and she’d told him she had no way to get it. He’d dictated a phone number to her, asking her to repeat it back to him three times to ensure she would remember it. He told her to call the number and say the magic words, the rest would be handled.

She’d frowned.

“The magic words?”

“Abracadabra!” He’d said with a theatrical flourish, then threw back his head and cackled with delight at the joke.

She’d called the number and spoken the magic words - abracadabra - into the phone when a male voice picked up, only to be greeted by a swift ‘click’ in her ear.

“Some joke,” she’d grumbled.

The next day, the gun arrived on her doorstep.

It was packaged in a shiny silver box with a red foil bow, looking like nothing so much as a fancy Christmas present. A simple golden tag read, ‘For J.’

She’d brought it into her apartment quickly, unwrapping it in the front hallway to find the magnificent purple gun winking up at her. It had felt warm when she lifted it, feeling the satisfying weight of it in her hands.

She had done it. She had actually done it.

And sneaking it into Arkham hadn’t even been hard. She wore metal tipped stilettos in that day, and all the silver jewelry she owned. Tucking the gun between her legs before she got out of her car, she held her breath as she passed through the metal detector and it went off. Giving the security guard a sheepish smile, she kicked her toes against the ground, throwing up sparks, and then held out her arms, which were covered in bracelets and rings. After taking an additional look at her layered necklaces and dangling earrings, he distractedly waved her through and went back to reading his newspaper.

Now she was pressed up against the wall in the solitary room where they had their sessions, the muzzle of the semi automatic jammed into her throat.

His straightjacket was a puddle of white fabric on the floor; she’d freed him from it the moment the door closed behind her, as she had done a hundred times before. The first time they kissed over the table, he’d had it on, which thrilled her, the sense of power, of control she had over him; she had a feeling he’d sensed that, because the next session he demanded she release him after the guards left. And how could she say no to him? She would do anything for him.

But today, after she pulled the gun out, he’d pounced, taking it from her outstretched hand and pinning her against the wall in one smooth motion. Once they’d begun… SEEING each other, she’d demanded there be no cameras or recording devices in the room, going straight to the board of the asylum and claiming it violated doctor-patient confidentiality. They’d reluctantly agreed as long as she wore a panic button which, naturally, she’d stopped carrying months ago. It was just her and the Joker for the next 90 minutes.

Would she be dead within the next five?

“Please, I did everything you asked me to,” she whispered.

“You did EVERYTHING I asked you to, sweet little Harleen.” He eased up on the pressure, moving the gun from side to side, tracing her pulse as it jumped around her throat. “And Daddy is very proud of you. I knew you had it in you.”

“So, what are you…”

“You question me?” He snapped, cutting her off. The gun pushed into her chin again.

She tried shaking her head, but couldn’t move.

“No, Mr. J.”

“Tell me how you got it in here.”

“I wore jewelry, so when the detector beeped-”

“Not that!” He bristled and she pushed back into the wall as far as she could go, trying to ease away from the revolver. His grip tightened and the gun followed her. “WHERE did you hide it?”

“Oh.” Despite herself, Harleen blushed. “I… I…”

“Yes?” He grinned, the metal grill shining in the dim fluorescent light overhead. Just looking at his silver smile made her feel dizzy with attraction, despite his orange Arkham jumpsuit and the fact that he was holding a gun to her head.

Or maybe because of it.

The longer he held it, the less afraid she felt; if he hadn’t pulled the trigger yet, surely he wasn’t going to kill her? The fear began to drain out of her, replaced by a peculiar tingling in the pit of her stomach.

“I- I hid it in between my legs,” she said in a quiet voice.

He clucked his tongue like a hen. “What a naughty little girl you are, Harleen.” He nuzzled the gun against her chin as gently as a lover buries their face in the crook of their beloveds neck. With his free hand, he trailed his large, square palm through her hair and down her torso, until he reached the hem of her tight pencil skirt.


Her eyes widened. Swallowing, she moved her smaller hands down to meet his. Grasping his one hand in between both of hers, she gently pushed it under her skirt, to where the gun holster lay smooth against her inner left thigh.


It was a simple loop of leather that she had picked up in a pawn shop in one of the seedier parts of Gotham. A pouch could be clipped onto the circle, and the gun fitted snugly inside.

“Don’t ask, don’t tell,” the clerk had remarked as she paid for it in cash. He’d told her how to work it - “Ya just belt it on ya leg and put the piece in” - then sent her on her way. It rode high up her leg, sitting just under her lace underwear, and she could feel the Joker’s long, white fingers as they skimmed over her skin.

“Oh, God, you’re so GOOD,” he breathed, rubbing his hand over the leather around her leg. Without loosening his grip on the gun, he leaned in, hungrily covering her mouth with his.

The tingling sensation in her stomach intensified, spreading throughout her entire body. Whenever he kissed her, it felt like the world stopped. Nothing mattered, nothing at all, except his kisses. And in a way, the gun made it even better, the complete and utter control he had over her in that moment, and the complete and utter trust she had, the faith she had that he wouldn’t shoot her.

He wouldn’t shoot her. She knew in her gut, in her BONES, that he wouldn’t shoot her.

No longer the slightest bit afraid, she threw herself into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck. The tiniest misstep by either of them and she’d certainly be dead, heightening the exhilarating pleasure of the moment. He kept his rock solid grip on the gun, his other hand moving higher and higher between her legs. She gasped as he touched her thin panties then curled his fingers into the fabric, ripping them. She could feel moisture running down her legs as he stroked her, and her body quivered with pleasure.

“Move your hands,” he moaned into her mouth. Instinctively, she knew what he wanted her to do. Drawing back and staring him in the eyes, she placed both of her hands around the gun at her chin. Perfect trust. Total love. Her small, warm hands wrapped around his large, cold one, with his finger on the trigger.

He growled and bit her cheek. Working the fingers of his other hand faster and faster, he brought her to a pulsating climax. She pressed her lips together to avoid crying out; she didn’t want the guards to hear and investigate. Instead, she turned completely inward, eyes rolling into the back of her head as she crested on wave after wave of sensation.

She wanted to moan in agony when she felt the barrel of the gun leave her throat. Her hands fell, limp by her sides, as he took the weapon away.

“No…” Before she could stop herself, the word slipped out of her mouth. She opened her eyes to see him staring at her in surprise. Lips red as a cherry, hair glowing emerald green in the light, he had an otherworldly beauty. She just wanted him to POSSESS her. It was frightening in its ferocity.

“So you like Daddy’s gun?” He asked in a low voice. It was almost like he couldn’t believe it; like he’d been expecting to scare her, and he was the one that ended up scared by her reaction.

“Y-Yes.” Her voice shook. She had liked it. She could still feel the ghostly imprint of it pressed under her chin.

He pressed the cold metal against her chest, the side of it, this time. She could feel it, heavy against her sternum, before it slid lower, across her stomach, and lower still.

“How much do you like it?”

Harleen knew what he was asking her, but couldn’t bring herself to answer. They had already done things in this room, but this- this was unspeakable.

His free hand drifted up and curled tightly in her hair, jerking her head backward.

“I asked you a question, little girl.”

“I love it, Daddy,” she admitted truthfully, cheeks burning. His own eyes rolled up into the back of his head in pleasure at her words.

Slowly, carefully, he nudged the gun into the waistband of her skirt.

“Do you belong to me?”

She looked at him with tears of love in her eyes. “I do.”

The metal was cold as it nosed its way between her legs, and her body tensed against the wave of pleasure she felt. He was USING her. Depraving her. Claiming her in a way she never had been before.

But he was gentle as he worked the gun in and out of her body. He kept one hand in her hair, holding her up against the wall as her knees buckled and shook. He kissed her face, her nose, her eyes, murmuring as his lips passed, whisper light, over her skin. She moaned softly and he pushed his tongue into her mouth.

“You have to be quiet, baby.”

She sucked his tongue like a pacifier to keep from wailing. The pleasure was so keen it felt like a sharpened knife pricking her all over her body. She trembled against the brilliant heat rising inside of her, swelling and bright as she suddenly shattered into a thousand pieces. She was clinging to him, sobbing and grinding her hips and working her body against the gun and it felt so good, so so so GOOD, better than anything else had ever felt before, and he was laughing, quietly chuckling into her ear, and whispering about how she was SUCH a good little girl, such a mad little girl, and she thought that if this was madness then she wanted it.

She wanted it.

He held her as she came back to her senses, still pinned up against the wall in the solitary room. The gun was nestled between her thighs, and she swore she could feel it pulsating wetly.

“No one has ever loved my gun as much as you do,” he said, and she glowed with pride. “We’ll have to get you one of your own, won’t we? Can’t have you running off with mine to have FUN.”

“Yes, Daddy.” She flushed at the desire that rose within her again at his words.

The door suddenly swung open.

“Times up, Dr. Quinzel- oh shit.”

engraved-in-the-moonlight  asked:

hi, mo! i love the list of prompts you put together for your drabble game! if it hasn't been requested yet, can i please have jaebum + #47? thank you <3

Originally posted by dimblethum

“Meet me on the roof in ten minutes.” // 047 out of 050
Im Jaebum (GOT7)
*my apologies, this may have gotten lengthy lol

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super || jeon jungkook


how were you supposed to know that your worst enemy was your roommate all along? 

alien!jungkook, superhero!jungkook, alien!reader, supergirl!reader

a/n: this is relieving my tension from the latest supergirl episode literally am dying. also i saw this prompt somewhere where it was like if u were a hero and ur roommate was a villain and the two of you always fought but u never knew lived with each other so ahhh this is my relief

The impact of the blow sent you hurdling through the twentieth story window. 

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Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Characters: Ladybug/Chat Noir

Summary: With her nose pressed against his, hot breaths puffing against his lips, she asked, “Want to find out?” Adding after a short beat, “How it feels to kiss me?”

Chat Noir stared down at her with wide eyes. “Are you asking me to kiss you, bugaboo?”

“You’re always asking,” she pointed out. “Maybe I’m just finally calling your bluff.”

Ladybug wasn’t surprised when Chat Noir joined her on the Eiffel Tower later that night.

It wasn’t the first time they’d sought one another out after a hard battle, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. In their line of work, these occasions were pretty commonplace—knowing there was someone else who understood was more than enough to overcome the pain and suffering they had seen (and survived). If she had to be honest, that was the best part about having a partner. At the end of the day, there would always be someone there for her, and vice versa, because having a partner meant never having to be alone again. It made things safer, easier, and better.

Above all, having a partner made things easier to bear. So that’s what they did after a cruel and terrible fight, especially after Chat Noir fell victim to an akuma’s influence, they tried to find comfort in one another.

She could hear Chat Noir land on the beam beside her, settling back on his haunches as they stared out at the city lights of the Paris nighttime. His breathing hitched before he spoke. “I still can’t get used to this view.”

Ladybug managed a wry smile, wanting nothing more than to lean back against her partner, but the tension between them was thick and heavy. “It’s only been five months. I’m sure you’ll get sick of it after a while.”

“No,” he said with an airy chuckle. “I think this is one of my favorite parts about being a superhero. Not every day you get to see something like this.” His voice had taken on a dreamlike quality, and Ladybug had to agree because there was something ethereal about Paris during the late hours. Sitting atop the Eiffel Tower, wind blowing her hair back, and her heart catching in her throat at the long way down was an impossible dream she’d never taken the time to piece together.

“So I guess putting on spandex to go save the world is just another perk, then?”

Chat Noir snorted beside her, and Ladybug gathered her courage to finally look at him. He had thrown his legs on either side of the beam, swinging his feet in the chilly air, and was facing her with a small smile. Liar, she thought. He wasn’t talking about the city lights.

Eyes trained on his face, she couldn’t find any traces of hatred or cruelty marring his beautiful features, so she took it as a green light to scoot closer to her partner. She reached out and threaded her fingers through one of his hands, while the other rested against the edge of the beam to keep her upright, as he leaned his forehead on her shoulder, hot breaths puffing out through her suit and against the cool skin of her arm, They sat together, finding solace in the silence of the quiet bustle of the sleepy city below them and in the spaces between each other’s heartbeats.

There was nothing else to be said for some time. Each knew where the other’s thoughts led, and neither were ready to follow them quite yet. At least they were together, sharing a moment they couldn’t have with anyone else. How could anyone in their civilian lives even begin to understand what they went through? Together, while alone, was more than enough, and Ladybug knew that. While she spent more time with her friends and family, there was something special about the little time she had with Chat Noir. There was something special between them. They had never labelled it because there was really no need for it. They knew it was there. That was all that mattered.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Ladybug finally asked, knowing all too well that he wasn’t but they had to get it in the open sooner or later.

“Not really,” he murmured against her suit, lifting his head with a soft sigh. “What’s there to talk about? I tried to kill you.”

As true as that might have been, Chat Noir didn’t need pity right now, and she refused to give him that. He wanted forgiveness or accusations because her partner was as much of a masochist as he was a superhero, despite her best efforts to break him of that particular habit, and he wouldn’t do well if she pressed the matter any further. But she knew all too well that it was something he desperately needed.

“It wasn’t your fault, so I don’t want to hear any apologies, chaton.”

He had the audacity to scoff at her words, so she nudged him with a sharp elbow to his chest.

“Hey! What was that for?”

“You need to trust me more, you silly cat,” she said and offered him a soft smile, nothing like the smirks she flashed him between battles or the exasperated, humor-laced ones when his charisma shined too bright. She leaned forward, resting her hands on her knees, and stared at him with affection brimming in her eyes, “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Plagg told me what happened. I know I tried to use Cataclysm on you.” Chat Noir shrugged half-heartedly and stared at the night sky, eyes trained on the moon if only to avoid hers. “For it’s worth, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to get hit by Dark Cupid’s arrow—”  

Ladybug rolled her eyes. “If you hadn’t it, the arrow would’ve hit me. You were protecting me, like always.” Her partner still refused to look at her, so she lightly tapped the bridge of his nose with her finger until his gaze flickered back to hers in bewilderment. For someone who touched her affectionately on and off the battlefield, it still surprised her what reactions she could draw from her partner when she reciprocated those touches. “You didn’t do anything wrong, so stop acting like you did. I don’t want to hear any more of it, you got that?”

Silence settled between them again, but this time Ladybug found herself squirming to fill it. There was a sense of something else itching beneath her skin that was eager to get out, and she knew exactly what it was, because it was the part that Chat Noir had yet to address, and a part of her wondered if he ever would. She had to admit that it threw her that her partner hadn’t mentioned the kiss yet, and she was sure that his kwami would have told him about it, considering that Chat Noir always insisted he was a tricky, smug little creature.

“So…” she began, “How’s it feel to finally get that kiss you wanted?”

Her light and teasing tone gave him an out if he wanted to shrug it off without bearing the repercussions, and she half-expected him to tell her to just forget it ever happened. She wondered if she should have even said anything, because she couldn’t remember ever seeing her partner this vulnerable, but she also knew that sheltering even more secrets than what was already between them might hurt things in the long run.

She swallowed, not breaking their eye contact, and smiled wryly. “You know, that was my first kiss.”

“Really?” Chat Noir’s voice was barely above a whisper.


When he didn’t respond, she turned just enough to face him, but what greeted her wasn’t the canary grin she’d been expecting but a wide-eyed boy who blushing furiously under her questioning gaze.

He pressed his lips together and pulled his hands into tight fists in his lap. “That was my first kiss too.”

…She hadn’t expected that answer. Because he was Chat Noir, and she had always imagined her partner as the charismatic boy in class who had the girls fawning over his every move, with a laugh on his lips and his heart on his sleeve (which wasn’t always true because there were instances where she couldn’t see through his smile, no matter how hard she tried).

“Really?” she asked because she had to be sure she heard him right.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“So how was it?” She rested her head in her hands, eager to know.

Chat Noir’s back stiffened at her words, and he raised his eyebrows in quiet bemusement. “I wouldn’t know, remember? I don’t remember anything after that arrow hit me until you broke the spell.”

The air left her lungs in a long whoosh because that fact had slipped her mind, and how horrible was it that her partner had missed out on such an important milestone and how horrible was it that she had ruined his first kiss for him? Even as a superhero, Marinette tried to maintain some sense of normalcy among her extraordinary antics—including all the things that were meant to be extraordinary in her civilian life, whether it was having the occasional night out with her friends, the first date, and even the first kiss. The fact that both of them had missed the momentous occasion bothered her more than she cared to admit. She stared at her partner with something akin to muted horror and tried not to think about what he was feeling because she knew it might break her for sure if she did.

Chat Noir paid her no heed, choosing to look out over the city as if he had finally found the comfort he was looking for, and it wasn’t like she knew what to say anyway. The moon was a bright ball in the night sky, looming over the world while the stars stood at its side like they were the guard, the whole sky illuminating them as they sat on the Eiffel Tower. It was an idyllic moment that settled over them, the kind where lovers would share the transcendent first kiss under the faint starlight, and Ladybug wondered if this was theirs.

They could try again.

Before she knew it, she was reaching out to her partner with shaky hands, grasping fistfuls of his collar and tugging him towards her. With her nose pressed against his, hot breaths puffing against his lips, she asked, “Want to find out?” Adding after a short beat, “How it feels to kiss me?”

Chat Noir stared down at her with wide eyes, glowing emeralds in the dim light from the shining sky above and the city below. He exhaled slowly and sagged against her. “Are you asking me to kiss you, bugaboo?”

She cocked her head and laughed into his jaw. “You’re always asking,” she pointed out. “Maybe I’m just finally calling your bluff.”

“I was never joking.”

“I know.”

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer, which she hadn’t thought possible, until there was just a sliver of space between them. Some part of her ached because Chat Noir was staring at her like he was expecting her to bolt, but she stood rigid in his arms and tightened her grip on his collar, unable to pull away or dive in, and she figured that she’d let him answer for her. She had made up her mind already, and perhaps this whole thing would backfire spectacularly later on, but right now, she wanted to make it up to her partner.

Her fingers trailed the cool skin on the back of his neck, teasing the soft hair at the nape and dipped into the warmth of his suit. There was a short beat of silence, the span of a single heartbeat, and then Chat Noir pressed his lips to hers in a soft kiss. It stole away her right to breathe and halted her thundering thoughts, but she overcame the shock and curled her fingers into the material of his suit to pull him closer. She could taste faint traces of hairspray against his mouth and strawberry spread from scones much like the ones she could find in her parents’ bakery. They breathed together, merged their bodies together, and became lost in one another.

Chat Noir’s hands slipped further down her body and cupped her hips to pull her off the beam and into his lap. Falling to instinct, she pressed her knees into his torso and cocked her head to kiss him deeper, harder, longer. His chest vibrated beneath her hands, a soft sound lost between their wet, trembling lips, and she smiled to herself. She had made her kitty cat purr. Her hands trailed down the sides of his ribs as she tried coax more purrs to fall from his lips.

Their lips moved in sync with one another, as if fused together. Where his hands touched her skin, a wild fire erupted, like the flow of molten rock under the Earth, and a spark of heat flared in her chest. Her heart throbbed at the heat because she knew it was something she had craved for some time now, something she had always imagined that Adrien would create, and never had she thought that Chat Noir would soothe the ache she carried around.

And that’s what made her pull away.

Chat Noir followed her, chasing her lips as she settled back on her haunches, only to be met with resistance as she shook her head. “Sorry, chaton,” she teased softly, pressing a single finger against his mouth. “That’s all you get.”

He swallowed thickly. “You’re being furry mean right now. Please be mice.”

Laughter bubbled in her chest and spilled out in the space between them, bodies shaking against one another as they struggled to keep their balance on the beam. It would be just her luck to fall to her death after experiencing her first kiss with her partner. She swung her legs back around to the front of the beam and planted them in the edges of the metal studs, still holding onto Chat Noir’s hand to keep her upright.

Finally, she let go and tried to adjust her position, casting her partner a sideways glance as he did the same. Both tried to regain their bearings that had scattered about after the kiss, hearts pounding in their ribcages and thoughts frozen as if they had dove headfirst into the cold waters of the Seine.

“I do trust you, you know.” Chat Noir wasn’t looking at her, instead choosing to close his eyes as a cool wind whipped by, leaning against her, warm skin against warm skin, and sighed. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”


It was his turn to put a finger on her lips. “And I am sorry for almost killing you today. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I really do need to say it. If you hadn’t figured out how to save me, I could have seriously hurt you this time.”

Ladybug took a deep breath and put a hand on his, squeezing it to offer some form of comfort to her partner. “You know I don’t blame you. It wasn’t you. It was Hawkmoth.”

“Still,” Chat Noir said, shaking his head.

Realizing that arguing was hopeless, Ladybug sighed and rested her head against his shoulder. She moved their intertwined hands to her lap and traced the edges of his claws for several moments, losing time in the steady cadence of his heartbeat and the quiet bustle of Paris below. For several moments, they sat together in silence until Chat Noir laid his head atop her own.

“Why did you kiss me?” he asked her. “Just now?”

She shrugged helplessly, refusing to move. “I don’t know. I guess since our first kiss was so bad the first time around, I wanted the second one to be better.”

In a raspy voice, cracking as he struggled to speak, he whispered, “The first kiss wasn’t that bad.”

She snorted more to herself than anyone. “Yeah, it was. You don’t even remember it.”

“But it was with you,” he told her. “And that’s more than enough for me.”

Her heart leapt into her throat, and she found herself at a loss with words, because what could she say to that? She had always suspected that her partner might have feelings for her, but she had chalked that up to part of his package—full of flirting, bad puns, and a charisma the size of the Eiffel Tower. Knowing what she did now pushed the world off its orbit. It hurt a bit too because she couldn’t do anything about it—she had Adrien.

But if she didn’t have Adrien, and she had Chat Noir…?

Inhaling shakily, she forced a smile and let go of his hand, sitting up straight and reaching for her yo-yo. “As much fun as tonight as been, it’s almost two, and I have an exam tomorrow.”

“Good luck,” he intoned, shaking his head as if to clear the cobwebs away.

“As if I need it,” she told him, pushing herself to her feet.

He did the same beside her, and for a moment, she debated whether to throw caution to the wind and wrap herself up in her partner’s arms again. Perhaps they’d kiss. Perhaps they’d talk. Perhaps things would change—irrevocably and beyond saving. If she stayed on the beam, stayed with Chat Noir, she didn’t know where the night would take them. Under the moonlight, they stood still and locked eyes, each with burning thoughts at the forefront of their minds, though neither voiced nor acted upon them.

“I guess I’ll see you around,” she said.

“Maybe sooner than you think,” he told her with a wink.

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You just gave me another clue to finding out who you really are. I know how you kiss now.” He stretched his arms overheard, swinging one around her neck, and locked her gaze with a cat-got-the-canary grin. “Finding you should be easy.”

With a light laugh, she flung her yo-yo out to the nearest building, winding it around the chimney, and flashed her partner a sharp smirk. “What’re you gonna do, chaton? Kiss every girl in Paris?”

“If that’s what it takes,” he said and bent into a low crouch. “You’re always worth the work, my Lady.”

With a flick of his wrist as a form of goodbye, Chat Noir leapt off the Eiffel Tower with his baton poised to catch his landing, and with a soft smile, she watched her partner whisk away onto the streets of a quiet Paris below. Once he was out of sight, she raised a trembling hand to her lips, tracing them with her fingers, as if she could still feel her partner’s lips on hers. The realization made her smile because, as first kisses went, hers and Chat Noir’s wasn’t too bad.

“Goodnight, silly kitty,” she said and pulled back her yo-yo before launching off into the Paris skyline.

(But if she didn’t have Adrien, then she’d always have Chat Noir.)

“Have you ever heard of the term, Obscurus?” (Newt Imagine) Pt. 1

Hello there! So… concept: imagine your parents are some of the darkest most horrible wizards out there. You were abandoned by them as a child, but the past is quickly catching up to come destroy the life you’ve found peace in around you.

I have no idea where this story came from, I just grabbed my computer and was like “okay, write,” and this is what came of it haha! It’s not quite conventional I think, for a Newt imagine, but I enjoyed writing it so I thought, what the hay? :) It’s quite long so I’m going to post it in different “parts.” There is definitely going to be a lot more Newt being cutesy as the story rolls along, but there’s a lot of things leading up to it that I wanted to play with so hopefully you find some enjoyment out of it!

(*disclaimer- I’ve kind of created my own ideas regarding some of the machinations of the Obscurus and other aspects of the Wizarding world. I was just playing around so just an F.Y.I, it’s not completely perfect in the J.K. Rowling design of the Wizarding World.)

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N),” a voice echoed throughout the stone classroom. The sound bounced wildly off the walls, adding harshly to the effect of the already aggravated tone it took. You quickly shot around, looking towards the back of the room at the tall dark man that stared chillingly towards you as he waited in the doorway.

Keep reading

On a Quiet Stretch of Beach in Vacuo

“It’s been years.”

His eyes scanned the horizon as the smell of the salt water hit his nose. The water glowed emerald and sapphire, its technicolor waves striking the powdery sands. Light caught and sparkled on the waves, as the sun glinted across it, like diamonds in the surf. A soft repetitive caw echoed across the empty beach. In his mind’s eye, he could see the young Team STRQ barefoot and soaked playing in the surf, with Ravens protestations at her hair getting wet, Tai’s playful verbal jabs as he threw a ball around with the male Branwen, and Summer’s growing splashes at Qrow to grab his attention, as he pointedly ignored her.

“C'mon Qrow! Get in the water! You’re the only one who hasn’t, yet!”

“That’s just cause I’m too fast for you.”

Sighing, the petite young woman spread her arms wide, already up to her waist in the surf.

“You’re missing out on all the glory of the water.” Her words were almost reverent as she pushed herself up and back into the waves, completely submerging. She stayed under for a long moment, too long for his comfort, and he felt his eyes grow wide with concern. Water wasn’t his enemy, but it didn’t mean he had to trust it.


Nothing but a few bubbles emerged, and his trust dissipated, as he sprinted forward into the water, diving in. Spotting nothing in the waters, he reemerged, turning to scan the horizon. A giggle spun him– directly into the wave of water the silver eyed pixie sent his way.

Now officially drenched, he met her eyes, nonplussed, his lips drug into a straight line.

“Hi.” She snorted a laugh.

The snort transformed into a giggle. A corner of his lips twitched. Her giggle continued into laughter, and the young man could no longer maintain his straight face. Allowing his lips to pull into a lopsided grin, he lunged forward and wrapped his arms around the sandy and salty waist of the young woman, flinging her up and out into the water.

“Qrow, no!” Her protest was laced with her own laughter.

He dove after her.

Memories danced like the waves, and the huntsman smiled as the good and bad washed over him. The teenager whispered in his ears that it was time to kick off his boots- he missed the feel of the sand between his toes. But the loss, the years distant reminded him that the time of that innocence was long gone.

The crackle of the fire blended with the soothing crash of the waves. Moonlight glistened a path, lighting across the tops of the waves. Wind tugged at their drying and stiff with salt clothes ever so gently. Above them, the stars were like pinpricks in the velvet of the sky. So full, the sky felt so heavy, as if one could reach out and touch the fabric.

Back against the smooth wood of a sand worn log, and arm supporting the back of his head, he took a moment to soak in the peaceful and happy faces of his friends. Raven’s head rested on a laughing Tai’s shoulder, his eyes glinting, hers half open and calm. Beside him, the petite young woman sat knees bent, her elbows on them, a slender piece of wood held loosely in her hands and she absently poked and prodded at the fire. A contented smile on her face, she laughed with her friends, and sighed in happiness.

Seemingly recognizing his gaze on her, Summer turned to Qrow. Meeting his eyes, she shared a smile meant for only him, her eyes sparkling in the firelight. His heart sped up, and he returned the smile. Ever so gently, he reached out and grazed her chee–

“Qrow?” His voice broke the thin man’s reverie, and he gently shook away the fog of the past.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m coming.”


He was slight
slight and fleet
restless upon sharp shoes
almost dainty in fastidious motion
aesthetic clothes
light but sharp
keeping clean and keen
following the sparse body below
long blonde hair
in a sailors queue
gently contouring
over the contrasting collar
green eyes
out of an aquiline face
glittering out from narrow eyes
traced blonde brows
not hiding the emerald glow
silently observing
cynically calculating
judging where
to keep the killer instinct
no one called him sweet
no one called him nice


Entirely Slytherin imagine inspired by fan fiction, head cannons, and my own thoughts:

Slytherin first years being gathered in the common room right after the feast, and being explained the rules:

#1: Do not go out of the common room after 8:00 without a partner, otherwise someone from the other house may find you and hurt you

#2: There is a list of names on the far wall, and these people are all from other houses. They are not to be harmed, teased, or offended in any way. They have proven themselves to be kind towards Slytherins, and if you need help, go to them.

#3: Listen to the upperclassmen. They do what they do to protect you. 

#4: You can fight with other Slytherins, but it never leaves the dorms, and you will never question whether or not the other person belongs in Slytherin.

#5: If another Slytherin is in trouble, help them no matter what.

#6: Every Slytherin is clothed well, we have a general clothing fund that is contributed to by everyone with a monthly due based on your families income, and everyone is allowed to take from it to buy things so they look nice.

#7: Never tease anyone about their economic standing. It is not something they can control.

#8: If you bring a non-Slytherin into the common room, be absolutely sure you can trust them. This is our safe-place, and if it becomes unsafe, we have nowhere else to go.

Then, every first year has a spell placed on them, one invented by Slytherins, called a safety spell, that shows where they are at all times on a map of Hogwarts that is on the wall next to the list of other house friendly people, and it shows whether or not they need help. 

After that, every first year is assigned a upperclassmen who will help them with school work, learning about the house of Slytherin, and about Hogwarts itself.

The wards around the entrance to the Slytherin dorms are then explained: if any non-Slytherin is approaching, their name, house, and year will glow on the back of the door. If the wrong password is stated by any non-Slytherin, then a silver man and a green man will appear, and force them out of the dungeons.

And, to add to all of this: Slytherin purebloods are given private tutoring sessions about muggles and their culture, while Slytherin muggle-borns are educated in the ways of purebloods and the wizarding world. Slytherin half-bloods can chose to take either class. 

After the classes on culture are over, each first year is given the newest laptop, headphones, and the Hogwarts WiFi password.

And, at the end of the first week, Slytherin first years are given an invisibility necklace with a silver snake charm that twists elegantly around the letter “s” with emerald eyes that glow red when anyone with a dark mark is approaching the wearer, and it becomes warm when a teacher is nearby. 

A class is offered to everyone in the Slytherin house of any year on how to speak mermaid, so they can talk to the mermaids that float by.

Every Slytherin gets their own room, for privacy, though sleeping in someone else’s room is allowed if both parties are okay with it. There are muffilato charms on everyone’s room.

There are five rooms of requirement connect to the common room. 

When a Slytherin graduates, their rooms are preserved and not given to anyone else so they can visit, they can still give to the clothes fund, and their safety spell is still there, but it only makes a large image of the person on the wall next to the map and names when that person needs help. 

There is a bulletin board simply for good quotes, tips, and pleas for help with homework or other things.

No Time


“There’s no time to argue!” Percy hissed from where they were hiding behind a bush. He rummaged through his backpack and handed her a folded piece of paper and knife wrapped in rags. “One of us has to make it to camp. My scent is stronger, the monsters will follow me. I’ll distract them and you can make it. The world as we know it will end if camp doesn’t get this knife, you know that.”


I rode the road
like water plunging over a cliff
falling ever faster horizontally
down the long coast
coiled as a snake
on a desert rock
neither living nor dying
an emerald held over a candle
priceless and free
courting danger
on the edge of town,

She left me in Lisbon,
never showed in Nice
there was a rumor
a faded photograph
left at a hotel in Istanbul
a folded note slipped under my door
by a stranger who left
the scent of cinnamon
drifting in the hall
Dhakar or Alexandria
or maybe Algiers
smudged stamps on a passport
as evidence
anyplace could be the place
she was at for a moment

A collection of slivers
in the driver’s seat at the wheel
of the cherry red ‘66 Impala
a moving memory to remind me
of America
of long nights in desert motels
where it began
sunsets drenched in sweat and sin
indulging in delights
of every flavor
we could imagine
until it wasn’t enough
for her
She needed more,
I needed her

She left

I followed

I follow
seeing the same moon
over a hundred highways
a moon without borders
drawing me
guiding me
because I know
somewhere under this same moon
she is
She is herself
nothing less
nothing more
and that

Is all I need

Lucinda Hollingsworth with Fabergé Egg
John Rawlings (American; 1912–1970)
Published: Vogue (December 1958)
© John Rawlings

In this glowing photograph by John Rawlings, the model acts merely as a frame for the Fabergé egg, which emits a radiant shower of light. The gold and jewels found in the piece are echoed in the model’s collar necklace, which is made of square-cut emeralds and round diamonds and is paired with a matching ring.