look at his face and him huddling in his cape no

Ruby Kisses

Request:  Maybe turn the headcanons into an imagine of the reader and Patrick getting caught by her parents? Also love the concept of being Stan’s older sister! Maybe all the losers are having a sleep over at his house when the reader gets caught with him!

AN: i was gonna make a smutty version but then i got another kinda fluffy idea in my head and i ran with it. if y’all want a more Rated R version then hit me up bc i’m so down for nsfw patrick :) and this is way longer than i thought it would be wow, sorry

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18.

The first thing Scully registers is his face. He’s blurred, his features fluid. He moves his mouth and no sound comes out, and something is wrong, so deeply, terribly wrong. And then the cold hits her, the bone-deep bite of freezing air, a thick invasion in her throat. She tastes bile and river slime, a faint chemical sapor. 

Oh, God, what’s happening?

The memories spill back into her in a kaleidoscopic torrent - prisms of shattered glass on the asphalt, chunks of concrete rubble. The air warped with billowing flame. A whirlwind of flights and trials, a sticky, edematous corpse in cold storage. Mulder, whiskey-soaked at her door. Black helicopters in the hot night, a buzzing swarm, the parchment brush of cornstalk against her cheek. His voice a homing beacon, rising bright over the mayhem. 

Hegel Place. You kept me honest. You made me a whole person. 

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Avis Draconis

Pairing - Gajevy

Type - AU: Dragons and fairies because I’m trash for that trope

Words - 4334

Note: this was originally gonna be something for Gajevy love fest, so I’m still gonna put the tag, but I decided to post it now bc I’m too in love with it to wait until the day I was gonna post it. Also, this is going to become an actual fanfic, so here is the link to the story! Thanks for all the support so far <3

Levy let out a weak cry as she slid down the cold iron bar, too exhausted to stand any longer, much less throw herself against the cage like she had been. The frigid metal seemed to continually sap the life right out of her veins, and it was all she could do to keep the tears that blurred her vision from falling.

The dragon had thrown her in this cage, then up and left. He was probably preparing his torturous means of killing her. He’d probably start by cutting up her wings before tearing them off. Each slice in the thin membrane would cause her immense pain. Then, for all she knew he might even decide to break her flight bones before he even tore them from her back. The thought made her curl even further into herself and conceal her frightened form with those large wings he’d go for first.

The silvery feathers along the bottom of the membrane were out of place and mangled. The gold ones lining the bones at the top were patchy and dull. Her species of fairy, the ancient Avis people of the south, were a prideful one. So the sight of her plumage in such poor condition brought a feeling of shame upon her.

Not that its appearance was her fault though…

At the sound of footsteps approaching, she scrambled back from the door of the cage. But these footsteps sounded different than the ones she heard when the dragon left. She wasn’t sure how long ago that was, but she knew it had been a fair amount of time. So the sound of these new footsteps lit a dark curiosity in her. They echoed off the stone walls in what she could only assume was the dragon’s aerie, though it was dismal and bare, with only two windows and a dragon-sized door that had been slammed shut after they arrived.

“I’ve heard much about your people,” came a gruff voice from the darkness. She could only assume that it came from the same creature as the footsteps. “The prideful fairies of the south, the powerful, legendary Avis who come out only when the sun is at its peak, and when the moon is at its fullest.”

The torch on the wall near the cage only illuminated so far into the darkness, and whomever was now circling her stayed just outside its reach.

“I say you’re just arrogant fools who’ve hidden in your enchanted forest for far too long,” the voice hissed. Judging from it, she could tell it was a man, though she could not glean what species he was from the few words he had spoken. “You value your knowledge and your wings more than anything, so you have failed to notice all the changes going on in the world outside your borders…”

“You call me arrogant,” she croaked, her throat feeling like a desert. “Yet you keep company with a dragon. That seems to me both foolish AND arrogant…”

The man chuckled, the sound bouncing off the walls to give the feeling that his laughter was surrounding her. The next thing she knew, a hand reached through the bars at her back to take hold of her narrow chin and turn her around to face him.

“My poor little fairy, that dragon and I are practically one in the same,” he grinned. The sight of him took her breath away to the point that she had no response.

A wild mane of unkept black hair fell down his back, which was covered by a thick, luxurious cape. He had on a dark shirt with a high neck and no sleeves, giving a full view of his muscular, scarred arms. His light pants were tucked into worn leather boots to complete the look. But even more captivating was his face. A sharp jawline and prominent cheekbones gave him a very angular appearance. One odd thing about him though was the piercings scattered about his face. Three lined either side of the bridge of his nose, four were fastened in the place of both of his eyebrows, and two dotted the space between his lower lip and chin. His ears were littered with even more metal studs, and she found herself wondering what they felt like.

The grin that still cut across his face exposed his bright white teeth. Upon closer inspection, his canines were much longer - not to mention sharper - than any normal fae’s. Dragging her gaze away from them, she hesitantly brought it up to meet his own, then instantly regretted the decision. Once they made eye contact, she felt that she was paralyzed in her seat. His irises were the color of freshly spilled blood, and they bore hungrily into her soul. A stroke of fear shot through her, and she mustered all her will to tear away from his grasp and scramble away from him. Huddling on the opposite side of the cage, she concealed her body once more with her bird-like wings, leaving her head free to watch him skeptically.

“Aww come on little fairy. I just wanted to play a little,” he gave a dramatic pout as he took hold of the bars in front of him and hung almost seductively against them. “What do you think I’m gonna do, clip your precious little wings?”

“No, I’m sure the dragon will take care of that,” she muttered, voice wavering slightly at the thought.

“Come now, you really think that big metal head has enough use of his paws to be able to rip the wings off a teeny fairy like yourself?” He scoffed, straightening and slowly making his way around the cage toward her. He took a slow pace, emphasizing each step and clasping his hands behind his head. “If anything, should he decide he wants your wings clipped, he’d have me do it. But I don’t think that’s his intention…”

She hesitated, staying very still as the man continued to approach her. “T-Then what is his intention…if you know him as well as you claim?”

He sighed, coming to a stop behind her. He reached through the bars once again, but this time much more gently, to tug her closer to him. “I think it’s something much simpler than that, little fairy…” he murmured as he leaned down to nearly brush his nose to hers.

“Tell me…please…” It came out no louder than a whisper.

“Maybe he was captivated.” The sound of metal clinking against metal did not even register to her in that moment. “Maybe he wanted to keep you for himself.” The door was suddenly unlocked and opened, but Levy still was not free, as the man was suddenly situated atop her slight frame, his long legs straddling her waist and her arms pinned gently above her head with one of his hands.

“Maybe he wants to make you queen of all the lands he rules over instead of letting you become queen of that silly little forest. I’ve watched for two centuries as the war between the dragons and fae raged on, just waiting for a chance to end it, and I finally found that when you were named heir to the throne…”

“What are you talking about? You’ve been watching for two centuries? I’m the answer to the end of the-” Her voice trailed off as realization dawned on her. “Y-you… you’re the dragon aren’t you?” Terror coursed through her veins, but so did something else. Something much sweeter, much softer.

His expression changed slightly, looking almost guilty. “And what would you do if I said yes?” It was his turn to speak in no more than a whisper. “Would you run away terrified like all the rest of your kind? Would you refuse any consolation or friendship I might offer? No, I don’t think you would do that…” His free hand moved to slowly brush the strands of blue hair away from her face, almost lovingly. He then trailed it down her side until he reached her once awe-inspiring wings. “I thoroughly apologize for what I did to your wings, little one. It can be a bit difficult for a matured dragon to catch a fairy as quick as you. I foolishly hoped there’d be little or no collateral damage, but obviously I was mistaken.” Regret tinged his voice, almost making her believe him.

“If you say you’ve been around for two centuries, why did you wait for me to end this war? It’s claimed the lives of millions of fae and thousands of dragons…” Her voice was colored with fear still, and she didn’t try to stop it from trembling.

“Because I was the dragon that started it in the first place…” he admitted after a moment, not meeting her gaze.

“You aren’t-” She gasped quietly. “Black Steel Gajeel, the Iron King of the Dragons.”

“Do I frighten you a little more now? Does the name strike terror in your heart? I know I was the cause of all these deaths, and I wish I would’ve known two centuries ago what havoc it would bring. But I cannot let the rest of my brethren die off into extinction, nor do I have any more desire to bring destruction to your kind.” He dropped his head slightly, his face now hidden from her sight.

As his grip on her hands loosened, Levy slipped one free with ease, before hesitantly placing it under his chin to make him look at her. His skin was hot to the touch, and smoother than she would have expected from such a rugged looking man. “I think I understand why you brought me here then…” she admitted.

He glanced to his sides as movement caught his eye. But it was simply her wings, rising around him. Their impressive span was more than enough to wrap around the large man above her, and she nearly laughed at the fascinated look on his face as he inspected the feathered barrier around him.

“But I think I’d rather hear your explanation…”

He visibly swallowed, looking almost nervous. Never in a thousand years would Levy have thought she could make a dragon, much less their king, look nervous…

“I want to bring this cursed war to an end, my little fairy.”

Gathering her courage once more, she smiled ever so slightly. “Is that all you want? I find it hard to believe that the mighty Iron King would want just one thing of a lowly fairy like me.”

“You are no lowly fairy. You are Princess Levy McGarden, Heir to the throne of Avion, future ruler of the lands of Fiore and all the fae who reside within its borders. I may be king of the dragons, but if there is any creature to equal my power, it is you, both in status and magical ability.” He gazed down at her with such intensity that her heart fluttered in her chest. “I would like nothing more than for you to remain here by my side. Only together can we bring this fighting to an end. And only together would we be able to lead into the future to assure it does not occur again.”

“Convince me, o dragon king… why should I listen to a word you’re saying? I cannot deny that, while I’m tempted to accept your offer,” Levy hesitated, letting her fingers slowly trail down his neck to tug down the collar of his shirt. “I’m sure it would be an unlawful relationship in every meaning of the word. And while I’ll admit, you’re quite handsome…” Raising herself up on her already freed arm, she tugged the other from his grasp and wrapped it around the back of his neck. Only when they were nearly nose-to-nose did she finish. “Tell me how you wish to atone for all the sins that dirty those hands of yours.”

The almost stunned look on his face gave her enough self confidence to stay in that position. Otherwise, she’d have blushed so intensely she’d have burned to a crisp! But that confidence was tested as he gave a low chuckle. Here she was, trying her hardest to be intimidating and hopefully appealing, and he had the audacity to laugh at her… Anger tinged her expression as he stopped.

“I apologize, my little princess. This was much more than I’d expected. Had I known this would be the route you would decide to take me on, I’d have prepared a room for you to do with me as you saw fit, instead of leaving you in a cage…” As his words brought a deep blush to her cheeks, he ducked his head to press his lips softly to her neck. The tenderness of the gesture sent a chill down her spine.

He continued on after a moment of kissing her sweet skin. “So I hope it suits your needs-” he paused again, this time to look up at her. “If I offer my personal chambers instead.” With that, he allowed his lips to return to her neck, this time with the addition of gentle teeth scraping against her creamy skin.

Her wings slowly fell away from the pair as she felt herself going nearly limp at the feeling. As they made contact with the metal floor of the cage, she felt him slip one arm under the small of her back, and one beneath her head in what she thought was a mere romantic gesture. While she may have been partially correct, a strange leathery sound drew her attention away from the feeling of his mouth.

Opening her eyes, she drew in a quiet gasp. Above her rose a pair of metallic-looking dragon’s wings that put her own to shame, both in appearance and span. Gajeel gave her neck one last nibble before grinning down at her. The next thing she knew, they were out of the cage and soaring through the cavernous passages of the Iron Dragon’s stronghold. She was tucked against his broad, muscular chest, her wings folded tight against her back as his pumped thunderously above her.

Just as she had grown accustomed to the feeling of flying without her own wings, they were slowing to a stop. It was then that she realized that her arms were secured around his neck, and her body was pressed flush against his. As he folded his wings to his back, allowing the thick cape to cover them once again, she looked at him in wonder.

“Would you like to hang on my neck all night princess, or would you like to try and get at least a wink of sleep?” He grinned as that adorable blush spread over her cheeks once again. She released her hold on him, only to be lowered about a foot to the ground by his strong hands on her waist. She then truly realized how much larger he was in comparison to her.

As he turned to push open a set of enormous metal doors, she made to follow, but froze at the sight that awaited her. She had thought the previous cave was his aerie, but she was surely mistaken. This cavern put the previous one to shame. Mountains of treasure rose up along the curved wall, and six tall pillars carved to look like incredibly realistic dragons helped support the ceiling, from which hung an ornate crystal chandelier lit with hundreds of light lacrima. But the center of the space was what truly caught her attention.

A smaller collection of treasures surrounded a raised platform that contained what appeared to be some type of nest. The treasures there looked much more valuable than those along the walls, as this horde contained crowns and treasure chests overflowing with jewels. While the surrounding ones glittered gold, this pile glittered every color of the rainbow, reflecting the light from the chandelier above.

She took slow steps toward the altar as Gajeel watched her with his arms crossed and a small smile on his face. She looked so small and fragile against the backdrop of his chamber. All the metal and treasure surrounding her, with her tattered wings and torn dress. Yet he truly believed that, should it ever come to pass, he would protect her with more ferocity than he would ever protect any of the treasure that he had gathered over the last two centuries.

She paused at the steps to the altar and glanced back at him as he stood in the doorway. Receiving a nod of approval, she ascended the stone steps to the place where his nest was perched. She circled the structure slowly, noticing the iron shell on the outside, and running her hand along the large pillows that lined the edge of it. It was very much akin to the nests her own people slept in, but on a much, much larger scale. As she reached the back of it, she paused to look up at Gajeel. With a look of dangerous curiosity and mischief, she unfurled her wings and leapt into the air.

Her plan was to simply fly up a little ways then fall softly into the nest. But her battered wings had other ideas. She only pumped her wings twice, before pain shot through them and her face contorted. Before she could even start to fall toward the nest, Gajeel was there, arms holding her protectively against himself as she tried her hardest not to cry out from the pain.

He slowly lowered them to the nest, placing her gently among the blankets and pillows before moving to inspect her wings. He moved his fingers carefully along the bone of her left wing, then finding it intact, he moved to the right one. He found that it wasn’t in fact broken, but there was a patch of skin along the bone that was heavily irritated. The feathers there were torn up and several were missing. Guilt welled up in his chest as he folded his wings once again and called out in a language Levy couldn’t understand.

“I’m so sorry my little fairy, I’ll get you patched up in no time,” he murmured into her hair. He gently pulled her into his lap, keeping her injured wing free. She laid against his chest for a long moment, before he felt her stir. She reached up to undo the clasp at his throat, letting the heavy cape fall away and leaving his wings exposed. Looking up at him, he nodded with a smile as he got what she was silently asking.

He slowly unfurled he left wing, bringing it forward so she could see it. He smiled at the look of wonder that came to her face as she gazed silently at it. She reached out a tentative hand to run her fingers over the length of his flight bone. After she reached the end of it, she trailed her fingertips down the leathery membrane of the wing itself, fascinated as she brushed over the bones extending down from the main one through the membrane to end in a little claw at the edge of the wing. The structures were so foreign to her, so captivating, that she didn’t even notice someone else entering the chamber.

“Gajeel, I have what you asked for,” came a clear, deep voice from the doorway. With a start, Levy looked up at Gajeel in confusion, and he nodded with a smile before looking toward the door.

“Thank you Pantherlily. You can bring it in.” With his wing in front of her, Levy couldn’t see who was approaching. So she slowly peeked around the large obstruction only to be dumbstruck at the sight.

A small black cat approached them carrying a bag full of what appeared to be medical supplies over his shoulder. The cat wore a pair of billowy olive green pants and walked on two legs, and as she glanced around, she decided it had to have been him that spoke before.

Retracting his wing and returning it to his back, Gajeel watched Levy’s expression carefully. She looked astonished as the little Exceed approached them, and it brought a smile to his face. As Lily stopped at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the nest, he bowed low, a gesture he had long since abandoned with Gajeel.

“Why bow now Lily? You haven’t done that in decades? Gajeel chuckled.

“The bow wasn’t for you screwhead. It was for her highness, Princess Levy of Avion,” the cat rolled his eyes. Levy laughed quietly, relaxing slightly against Gajeel’s chest.

“I like him,” she murmured to the dragon beside her.

“Tch, just hand me the supplies and be on your way,” Gajeel grumbled. As the cat stepped up to hand him the bag, he clambered over the side of the nest to joint them, seemingly much to Gajeel’s annoyance.

“So, Pantherlily, you seem to know who I am, but I can’t say the same about you,” Levy smiled as Gajeel shifted beneath her. She extended the injured wing, then shifted so her back was pressed to Gajeel’s chest so he could reach it with greater ease. She could have sworn he held his breath as she moved. “Where do you hail from?”

“I am an Exceed from the kingdom of Exlandia, a far away country where creatures like myself thrive. It’s nice to finally have someone around here to talk to about things as trivial as this,” he chuckled and shot a playful look at Gajeel. The dragon scoffed as he gently spread a salve over the injured area. It stung a bit at first, but after a moment Levy sighed as it soothed the pain.

“So tell me, what makes you stick around here Pantherlily?” She asked curiously.

“Gajeel saved me from many a battle when we were younger. Without his ugly mug, I wouldn’t be alive today. So I suppose it’s because we’ve formed a friendship. Or maybe I’m just too scared to fight with that dragon he hides inside that skin of his…” The little cat shuddered at some unspoken memory, which spiked Levy’s curiosity before she decided it would be better not to ask.

She inhaled sharply, trying to keep her wing still as she felt the ever unpleasant sensation of feathers being plucked from her skin. “What are you doing?” She hissed, turning to see what Gajeel was getting at.

“I’m sorry, but these feathers aren’t going to regrow unless they’re-”

“Removed, I know,” she cut him off. “But there are less painful ways of going about that, you know.” Her voice was colored in thinly veiled annoyance. “Let me handle this part. I won’t lose a single feather more than I have to.”

Rolling his eyes, Gajeel eased her off his legs to stand up. “Also know that your left wing is swollen near the base. Don’t fly for a while, I won’t have you injuring yourself further.” Stepping to the edge of the nest, he hopped out onto the altar. “I’ll be back.”

Her sense of safety wavered, and mild anger washed over her. “It’s not as though I asked to be injured and captured by a dragon today,” she muttered to herself. His footsteps halted, and she looked up to see him turn on his heel to face her.

“Do you want to end this war or not? Would you not sacrifice yourself for the sake of your people? Because I sure as hell would. I figured this would be the best alternative to one, or even both of us, having to die…” he retorted.

“You could have at least offered a treaty. Had you tried to arrange this peacefully, I would be much more open-minded to the idea, not to mention my wings wouldn’t look like a fledgling who fell out of her nest!” She replied somewhat defiantly.

In an instant, he was back in front of her, but now she was pressed against the pillows on the edge of the nest. His wings were flared out around him, and with the light from above him casting his face in darkness, she felt a true spike of fear run through her body.

“It can be a bit difficult to write out a treaty when you never learned to write in the language of your enemy,” he hissed, his eyes nearly glowing with frustration.

She was silent for a moment, letting his words sink in. Of course he wouldn’t know how to write in Fiorean. He was a dragon from the north. Up here they spoke Draconic, a long forgotten language in Fiore. Merely four fae still knew the language from the time before the war, and they were incredibly difficult to get in contact with. So should a treaty come to the queen of Fiore in Draconic, it would have taken an exceptionally long time to get it translated.

“I’ll make a deal with you then,” she proposed as an idea came to mind.

“What is your deal little fairy? I’m interested to know what you could offer.” His wings slowly lowered to his back, but his expression hardly softened.

“Teach me Draconic, and in return I will teach you to write Fiorean. I know it’s not much, but all I can really offer you is knowledge. I was a scholar, a magic wielder. I’m sure we would both benefit from this deal, just think it over…”

Since she was a little girl, some hundred years ago, she had always been fascinated with the dragons that plagued her people. She had heard tales of their complex language, and had dreamt of learning it. So the thought of finally being able to have a chance at learning even a bit of the difficult language intrigued her.

He hesitated, standing to his full height above her. “I’ll consider it.” Then he was walking away again, leaving her and a dumbstruck Pantherlily in his nest to tend to her wings.

Theory of Relativity - Part 1

ao3 | ff.net

Summary: In which Dick Grayson gets de-aged and everybody freaks out

Okay, so let me just start off by saying that, yes, this is going to be more than one chapter long. I’m thinking about five or six. The only thing is, updates are going to be sporadic because of Teach Me to Dream, I just really wanted to get this story out because of a prompt I received asking for this specific story. Since I already had this written I figured I would post it.

Thanks to @laquilasse for helping with (and inspiring) this story.


When Dick wakes up cradled in Bruce’s lap, he immediately knows that something’s wrong. One, Dick doesn’t remember ever leaving the manor after falling asleep last night. It had been a school night and he’d already used up his weeknight patrols for the rest of the month.

The second is that he isn’t wearing anything. He’s wrapped up in a big leather jacket like it’s a blanket or something, and it dwarfs him so spectacularly. He’s small for his age, sure, but this is ridiculous. Only his knees down are bared to the cold—plus the parts of his face that aren’t smooshed into a shoulder or covered up by the jacket collar. And even then, it’s not too cold.

He doesn’t know what’s going on but he’s sure that this is Bruce who’s holding him—Batman, really. But he doesn’t think there’s much of a difference.

The way Bruce holds him is familiar, arms wrapped around Dick tight, but not too tight, like he’s not completely sure of his grip. The Kevlar armor plating and the cape under Dick’s cheek, the rough fabric of gloves as Bruce’s fingers card through his hair, the familiar rumble of the Batmobile humming from underneath them. This is Bruce, of that Dick has no doubt.

“He’s too quiet,” a voice says, and it’s low and soft, but Dick’s sure he’s never heard it before. “I don’t like it.”

It’s weird, because Dick thinks it’s coming from the driver’s seat. Since when did Batman let anybody but Robin get into the Batmobile? It’s only supposed to be Bruce and Alfred and Dick. Not even Uncle Clark is allowed to touch the Batmobile.

“He’s unconscious,” Bruce lectures, his voice maybe a touch deeper and gruffer than Dick is expecting, but it could just be Dick’s imagination. There’s a pause, and then Bruce huffs an exasperated breath. “Or are you?”

Busted, Dick think and he peels his eyes open. He doesn’t move his head from Bruce’s shoulder, though, just pulls the leather jacket tighter around him and pushes his face into the crook of Bruce’s armored neck. Bruce’s arms automatically tighten around him.

It’s only then that Dick asks, “How’d you know I was awake?”

“You know exactly how,” Bruce says, but it sounds nothing like when Bruce had said it as a joke the other day over a cup of hot chocolate. It sounds all growly an intimidating. It doesn’t—It doesn’t really sound like Bruce.

Dick frowns, choosing to file that piece of information away for later. He has more questions, after all. “Why aren’t I wearing any clothes?”

Bruce pauses. Dick can’t see what he looks like, so he can’t guess what he’s thinking. Probably wouldn’t be able to with the cowl on anyways. He can, however, see the stranger in the front seat, the one with the domino mask that looks like he wants to be anywhere else but here. Yeah, Dick can see him, and he thinks that this guy has to be on the same level of trust as Alfred to be sitting there, and that’s when Dick knows something is up.

Bruce doesn’t have anybody that he trusts more than Alfred. Dick doesn’t even think he makes the cut. Close, sure, but is Dick driving the Batmobile? Bruce probably wouldn’t even let him sit behind the steering wheel.

But the stranger, even with the mask on Dick can tell the guy’s shooting furtive glances at Bruce every so often. More and more the longer Bruce stays silent. They both know something, and neither of them are inclined to spill. Great.

So, even though he’s frustrated about it, Dick moves on. There’s no getting an answer out of Batman without a lot of hard work, and Dick’s not really feeling up to prying Bruce’ secrets out of him at the moment.

Instead, he says, “Fine. Then who is he?”

The stranger’s face twists up strangely, like he hadn’t been expecting Dick to say that, and honestly, Dick’s just about as confused as he can get. The stranger shoots Bruce another look, and then his gaze drops down to meet Dick’s from behind the mask.

Dick makes sure to meet the white lenses evenly, having enough experiences with masks to figure out where the guy’s eyes are. Besides, he’s already huddled in what’s probably this stranger’s jacket, looking like a little kid. There’s no way he’s going to show any more weakness in front of someone he doesn’t know. Even if Bruce seems to trust him.

“You don’t know me?” the stranger asks,, tone matching his expression.

“No,” Dick says honestly, and he feels it when Bruce heaves a sigh.

“Of course you don’t. Lucky you, then, I guess,” the stranger snarls. “Everybody’s just looking for an excuse to forget I exi—”

“Red Hood,” Bruce snaps, and the stranger snaps his mouth shut. Dick tries not to flinch at the shapr tone, and he succeeds, but his limbs lock up. He freezes. Because the last time Dick had hear that tone hadn’t been a pleasant experience, and it had led to the biggest argument Dick had had since coming to the manor.

Bruce catches on quick, but the stranger catches on even quicker. A sharp, mirthless laugh leaves his lips, and he gives Dick a sneer. “Well, that was a surprise. Didn’t think that the Golden Boy would ever be afraid of Batman.”

“I’m not afraid of Batman!” Dick protests, sitting up straight, even as his cheeks flush with ager. Bruce’s arms never leave him, but they do pull him in closer so that Dick’s back is up against Bruce’s chest. If he were afraid of Bruce, he would never even let Bruce near him. “What do you know?!”

“I know a lot,” the stranger says as they leave the city behind them, and he doesn’t sound like he’s joking. “I know that Batman’s actually Bruce Wayne. I know that you’re Dick Grayson. I know that being Robin get you fucking killed.”

“Jason!”

“How would you know anything about being Robin?!” Dick yells over Bruce’s reprimand.

“I’ve been Robin, kid.”

Dick sucks in a sharp breath, eyes burning and a tightness in his chest that doesn’t make much sense. That can’t be right. He’d made a mistake before, yes, but Dick’s Robin. He’s the only one that’s ever been and ever will be Robin.

“I’m Robin,” Dick insists, because it’s his name, his colors, and Batman is his partner, and the stranger has to be lying. Trying to get under his skin or something. He turns to Bruce, who watches them both silently. Dick demands, “Why is he even here anyways?”

“Bruce needed my help,” the stranger sneers. “And you’re both lucky I was there or we’d have two incompetent rich kids.”

“Yeah?” Dick asks, because that’s another thing. “And how do you even know our identities?’

The stranger snorts. “Told you, kid. “I’ve been Robin. Bruce adopted me.”

That something is back again, telling him that whatever’s going on it’s so, so wrong. And Dick swallows past the lump in his throat. Because Bruce wouldn’t. He wouldn’t adopt anybody else. He hadn’t even been able to adopt Dick. And besides, this guy has to be in his late teens, or maybe even in his twenties. The stranger is lying.

And so, Dick tells him that, and he makes sure his tone is ice cold. “You’re a liar, you know?” Dick seethes. “I’m robin and I’m the only one Brue has taken in. Right?”

He turns to Bruce once again, but the cowl is still doesn, and while Dick is getting better at it, he still has trouble readin the visible half of Bruce’ face for any emotion. For some reason, it seems especially hard now.

After a moment, Bruce inhales deeply through his nose and peels off the cowl, and Dick can’t help but flinch this time. Because—it’s Bruce, but it’s not. He’s older and broader and the hidden twinkle of kidness Dick used to be able to find isn’t there anymore. This is someone else with Bruce’s voice and personality, and Dick think that if they weren’t in the Batmbile right now, he would probably be half a block away by now.

“Dick,” Bruce says, and it’s tired. “There’s a lot that we need to tell you, but I don’t think now is the best time.”

“No.” Dick’s stubborn on a good day, and there’s no way he’s letting this go without a fight “Why is the guy—” he nods to the stranger “—saying he was Robin? I’m Robin.”

“Not now,” Bruce repeats.

“But—”

“Dick.”

Dick wants to shrink away. But Bruce’s hands are still holding him in place as the atranger weaves the care down the long winding road to the entrance to the Cave. Bruce is looking at Dick, swaddled in a stranger’s jacket, like it’s been such a long time since he’s seen him, and it doesn’t make any sense.

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” Dick says, just because he doesn’t know what else he’d supposed to think, and the anger’s back full force. “Why aren’t you telling me that he’s lying? Are you trying to replace me? Are you firing me again?”

“Again?”

The stranger jolts in his set, slamming on the breaks just as they make it to the Batmobile’s parking spot—and it probably would have been fine if Dick had been wearing a seat belt, but he’s still sitting Bruce’s lap, curled up in a leather jacket without his own hands to stabilize him, so he jolts forward with the momentum, too. Bruce barely pulls Dick away from the dashboard in time to keep him from getting a concussion.

“It wasn’t about Two-Face,” Bruce says once Dick is pulled back into Bruce’s hold, and Dick tenses at the use of past tense. Wasn’t. What is that supposed mean? “Trust me, Dick. Firing you for a situation I hadn’t prepared you for wasn’t your fault, and I’m sorry.”

Dick slumps back into Bruce’ comfort. “Then I don’t get it.”

“It’s…complicated.”

“Make it uncomplicated, then,” Dick demands. “Who is he? Why is he saying he was Robin? And why aren’t you disagreeing?”

And why is Bruce so old? He looks like he’s agd twenty years in between last night and now, and Dick just doesn’t know what to make of it. At all. Maybe this is all some drug-induced hallucination, or something. It really wouldn’t surprise him at this point.

Maybe fear toxin. His worst fears had been his parents—and then Bruce—falling to their deaths. But ever since Two-Face, he’s had a sort of different fear on his mind.

And yet, everything seems so clear. Bruce’s touch feels so real. He just doesn’t get what’s going on.

“Let’s get you something to wear first,” Bruce says softly. Then he turns to the stranger. “Go upstairs and get some of Damian’s old clothes.”

Dick doesn’t know who Damian is or why he would have clothes upstairs, but apparently the stranger does, because Dick watches him leave without a word. There’s just a glance between Dick and Bruce and he’s gone. Then, it’s just Bruce and Dick alone in the car, and Dick has a sneaking suspicion that Bruce had wanted it this way. Wanted to talk without the stranger interrupting them again.

“What’s going on?” Dick asks in a small voice. “Why was that guy saying all that stuff? And why aren’t I wearing any clothes? Why do you look so different?”

Bruce’s expression is grim, but his eyes are honest. “Dick, before we left for patrol, you were twenty-four.” Dick opens his mouth to say something, to deny it, to say that’s impossible, but he can’t get anything out before Bruce is speaking again. “We ran into some trouble. A gang had access to drugs that are able to manipulate age and memory. You were hit with a dart containing the drug.”

“I don’t understand,” Dick says, and he feels empty inside. Blank. Numb. The sense of wrongness takes over, and this—this can’t be happening. Dick doesn’t remember being twenty-four at all. He’s eleven. He’s the Robin to Bruce’s Batman. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It’s true, Dick,” Bruce says.

And Dick can see it now, kind of. He’s been trained to put clues together since he became Robin, and he sees it all adding up. This isn’t his Bruce. If what he’s saying is true, then this Bruce is thirteen years older than what Dick remembers. And Dick knows that if he’d changed so drastically in just the two years Dick had been living at the manor, then there’s no way he hadn’t changed in six times that long.

But Dick shakes his head violently, backing up into the dashboard to the best of his ability. No matter how many signs are telling Dick that Bruce is right, he won’t accept it. Not yet. Not until he can get this straight in his head.

Because Dick wouldn’t have just given up being Robin. It’s who he is, and Dick would never let it go. Not in a million years. So the stranger has to be lying. Bruce has to be lying.

But Bruce’s eyes are clear, and his gaze is steady. His hand comes up to push Dick’s hair back from his head, and Dick relaxes into the touch. He remembers this touch from when he’d woken up, too. He’d been so sure that this was Bruce, just by his touch. Because Dick knows Bruce. They’re partners. It’s Dick’s job to know.

So Dick slumps, and he decides that, for now, he’ll believe Bruce, and hope that whatever storm comes from it, from losing thirteen impossible years, doesn’t destroy them.

Fright - Akira Kurusu x Reader

Where did the school go? Your mind went blank as you stared at the castle before you, knees quivering as its dooming and dominating presence made you uneasy. You were sure you had gone the right way when getting to school, making this trip much more confusing and frightening. True, you had heard Ryuji’s loud voice from the midst of the alley that you use to get to the academy, but didn’t think anything of it when mindlessly walking through the alley until your vision shifted and morphed, making you almost believe you were dying. You gripped your bag tightly, sensors in your brain telling you to get out as fast as possible. But how? Your brain was clouded with confusion and fear. Why was there such a huge castle here? You didn’t pass out, did you? You pinched your arm just to be sure, wincing at the incredibly real feeling of pain. No, this is.. real.

You swallowed the accumulated saliva in your mouth and took a shakily step forward, extremely wary of your surroundings. You tried to see if your phone was on and luckily it was, however, to your dismay, there was no signal. You bit your lip and put your phone back into your school bag, setting a foot forward in the direction of the entrance of the palace. Perhaps there was someone in there that could help you, though deep in your heart, you realized it was a foolish idea, even if there were no other way.

The interior was decorated nicely, elegantly, making your jaw drop as you stared at the room. Despite the superficial decor in the room, everything seemed to shift before your eyes, making your head spin, as if this were all a distortion of someone’s imagination. You took careful steps around the stairs, slowing your breathing down to make sure your racing heart remains steady and not loud enough for any passersby to hear.

Every moment that you continue to walk in the palace is another moment that you wish for your significant other’s embrace and calm voice to tell you that you’re okay, that everything is fine, that he loves you. You smiled a little at the memory of Akira petting your head and pressing his lips on your forehead. However, the peace is shattered as your eyes set upon a flurry of guards that wandered around the halls, grumbling and keeping their guard up, as if they were expecting intruders. You stumbled back, accidentally crashing into a broken vase and it’s stool, gaining the attention of those.. Things. They weren’t human. Not with those red eyes and malicious stances. Your mouth quivered with fear as they rushed over to you, commenting on how they thought you were a prisoner that escaped. They had grabbed you, resulting in a loud scream from your lips as you pleaded to be let go and that you weren’t a prisoner here, tears already accumulating in your eyes and streaming down your face as the threats of becoming a prisoner frightened you and made your anxiety overflow from the strange castle to the disorientation that filled your vision.

You genuinely thought you were going to die in this hell of a nightmare.

Thrown to the ground of a cold prison cell, you huddled up with your bag in the corner, shaking uncontrollably as tears streamed down your face and your breathing choppy. You were too much in a panic to understand anything at all, the only thing in your body telling you right now is that there was no escape from this and that there was no hope.

You only wish you could have told everyone you loved them one last time.

The high pitched scream made the entire Phantom Thieves freeze, jumping to a hiding spot in the corner of the hall. Joker snapped his head over to where the the scream came from, his face hard as stone as he recognized the voice. Joker’s heart stopped in his chest, a sudden fear that he had never realized suddenly washing over his body. There was a possibility he could lose you. No, it would never come to that. He’ll never let it come to that. “That scream wasn’t a figment of the distortion, right?” He asked with urgency, turning to the wide eyed Mona. “Which way did they take them?” Joker added on, looking to the cat for help as his eyes were stern and his jaw set with a mixture of fury and fear.

Skull hissed to the two, obviously confused at the sudden turn of events. “How the hell did someone else get in here?”

“Because you were probably careless, Skull.” Panther’s remark caught him off guard, causing him to glare at the teen with displeasure. “You should be more cautious about being a Phantom Thief in public.”

Mona thought for a moment and hopped back up, looking at the way that lead to the many cells in the dungeon, the very same place that Joker and Skull met Mona. “They took them… to the dungeons.”

No sooner than Mona’s words reached Joker’s ears, he sped off in the direction of the dungeon, leaving the others to scramble behind him confusedly. The others cried out in protest, but Joker wasn’t having any. He asked them to watch his back and take care of the guards. “I have to save them-!” Joker growled, speeding up, ignoring the many enemies that stood in his way and barged into the dungeon, his voice raising and calling out for you. “(Name)!” He exclaimed, voice ringing through the dungeon as his black cape fluttered behind him, heart beating quickly as he heard the choked sobs and desperate cries that escaped your lips.

“A-Akira..” You choked out, crawling over to the front, a complete mess as you desperately longed for comfort in the choking cell. There was a flutter of wind by you until you saw concerned eyes peering into yours, startling you before you slowly recognized that it was Akira who stood before you, eagerly working on the cell’s door with sweat running down his cheek and eyebrows furrowed in concern.

Joker ripped the door open and dived into the cell, grabbing a strong hold of you and pulling you in his arms, his racing heart mixing in with yours. You sobbed carelessly, burying yourself into his arms as the stress crumbled beneath the relief. “I’m here, (Name), it’s okay. It’ll be fine. You’re okay.” His soft voice cooed, gloved hands wiping away the tears that streaked your flushed cheeks.

“I… I’m so confused… and scared… why are you dressed like that..?” You asked, voice breaking as you slowly composed yourself. Akira gave you a smile, leaning in and pressing his forehead to yours, breaths mixing.

His lips brushed against yours as his hands stroked your hair comfortingly. “I’ll explain it later. For now, we have to get you out of here. One day, I’ll bring you back here, but I’ll be with you at all times.”

You nodded, exhausted from the experience, not complaining as you were picked up by your knees and he small of your back as he carried you bridal style. You clung to Akira, burying your face in his neck and relaxing under the scent of him, a splendid mix of coffee and his cologne. “I’m sorry, you guys were probably doing something important, right?” You mumble, moving your head to look at Akira, admiring the thief get-up. “I want to help you all… I want to be braver..” You admit, hands trembling as you cling to Akira.

Akira looked down at you, a wide smile on his lips as he watched as a spirit of rebellion seemed to flicker in your heart. “For now, you need to rest. We’ll call the mission off for today.” He explained, meeting up with the rest of the Phantom Thieves, who stared at him with wide eyes, carrying you in his arms.

“We’ll finish this tomorrow,” Joker announced as the leader of the group. “Next time we go in here, perhaps we’ll have another member of the group. We’ll see what fate decides.” He said, watching as the others calmed down and agreed, the alert in the palace extremely high to continue forward with a non-persona user.

“Sorry you had to end up in that kind of situation,” Panther sighed, patting your arm with a kind smile. “I know the feeling, don’t worry.”

“Aren’t you.. Ann?” You asked, staring into her blue eyes. “And that’s Ryuji… and..” Your eyes widened as you spotted Morgana. “A cat..?”

“You couldn’t have known, but I’m not a cat.” He exclaimed, a little frustrated with having to explain it so many times.

You nodded, rubbing your temples. “Akira.. Please don’t make me wait long for an explanation. I don’t want to go through that again.” You mumble, a bright distortion overcoming you before you realize everyone was back in their normal outfits and you were all in the very same alley that you started at.

Akira sent the others away with a grateful ‘Thank you’, before setting you on your feet, an arm wrapped around your waist, while Morgana jumped into his bag. “Let’s go to LeBlanc. I’ll explain it there, alright?” He promised, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “You gave me a huge scare today and I just need to be with you the rest of the day.”

“Same here,” You breathed, leaning into Akira. “… I love you,” You say suddenly, catching Akira off guard. “I need to tell you that a lot more often. When I was in there..” Your hands shook, but you continued despite the fear that crawled on your back. “I thought I was going to die. And my biggest regret was that I couldn’t tell you how much I loved you.”

Akira stopped and pulled you close, closing the gap between your lips and his, a sweet kiss that made you realize he was just as frightened as you were.

“I love you too, (Name). I want to protect you no matter what. One day, I hope you’ll be able to join Ryuji, Morgana, Ann, and I as a Phantom Thief. Until then, I’ll keep you safe.”

You giggled softly, arms wrapping around his neck. “That’s another promise to add on to our growing list then, huh?” You point out, eternally grateful for being able to understand a new part of Akira, even if the cost was a panic attack that nearly made you give into despair. It just made you realize the importance of your relationship with Akira, the resolve that you wanted to uphold, and the future that you could be apart of.

And you’ll strive to help them no matter what.

HYFR - 1.

Pairing: Reader x Hoseok
Genre: Fratboy/Fuckboy AU, comedy, smut and mild angst in later parts
Summary: For the past couple of years, the Phi Kappa Psi boys are quickly rising on the list as the best frat on the USC campus. They’re all gorgeous, intelligent, fit, and just swell dudes. But it’s with their new pledges, the guys they call THE SUPREME SEVEN, that they’ll kick those Lambda Chi Alpha tools off their number one spot.




Chapter 1: They Lovin’ The Crew


It’s a new year, and that means new pledges.

It’s not really a period of time that Kim Seokjin, the president of the Phi Kappa Psi chapter at the University of Southern California, is really thrilled about, but after a disastrous bunch of pledges last year – when only one got initiated to stay in the house – he was glad for this year’s crop of fresh faces. Seokjin calls them the Supreme Seven because all of them seem to exhibit all the qualities that every Phi Kappa Psi brother should have – Charisma, Uniqueness, Nerve, and Talent - or something like that… (Hey, It’s not Seokjin’s fault that Rupaul’s Drag Race is a very entertaining show!)

There were over 350 rushees this year and these seven were some of the best of the bunch. Each of them ranked a place on the list of ‘Top 20 Rushees Every Frat Wanted to Acquire’ and with 20 fraternities on campus, that puts Phi Psi in the lead as the most desirable frat because those seven boys accepted their bid.

Seokjin knows with all his heart and soul that these seven new pledges will bring glory to Phi Psi name – if they get initiated, that is.

So let’s do a little introduction, shall we? Right here, right now, during this killer toga party that only the Phi Psi boys could throw and still make it feel fresh and new even though it has been done and beaten to death a billion times before.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Egos but with a hogwarts au? - anon spice

(Smol ego kids at hogwarts nice)
Bim looks at the fish on his desk, flopping in the place where his goblet had once been. He looks up to meet the eyes of the transfiguration professor, shrugging helplessly and feeling his anxiety flare when she raises her eyebrow at him. Before he can explain that he has very little control over his overflowing magic, his goblet-turned-fish is morphing into a wooden box. Bim covers his face in his hands, the Host gently patting his back while his perfectly transfigured needle glints in front of him.

“A good effort Mr. Trimmer, very impressive actually, but not what I asked for”, says, surprisingly sympathetic. Bim nods, not looking up.

Later at lunch, Bim pokes at his mash potatoes, head leaning against his fist. On his left, the Host reads quietly, having followed him over from the Slytherin table (probably to avoid Dark, the fifth year who seemed to follow him everywhere) and on his right, Silver huddles into his black cape, unhappy with the approaching winter. They’d both already told him that it wasn’t his fault his magic was so uncontrollable. Wandless magic is cool and all. Bim had told them that wandless magic wasn’t useful if he couldn’t control it.

“At least eat a little”, says the Host, pulling his silver and green scarf higher and putting his braille book down to take a bite out of his lamb. Bim takes feeble bite of peas, but doesn’t taste them.

The three of them startle when they hear a commotion over by the Gryffindor table and turn to find Wilford (obvious from his bright pink hair) is face to face with Dark, voices loud and argumentative. The Gryffindors cheer when Wilford whips out his wand and turns Dark’s hair a startling shade of red, but it hardly seems to faze him, hair turning back to black without the aid of his wand.

“I should go break them up before someone gets really hurts”, sighs the Host, climbing out of his seat and saying goodbye to his Hufflepuff friends before going off to break up the impending fight.

It’s almost comical, watching tiny, second year Host break the two fifth years apart, warning sparks light up the end of his wand. Dark drags him back to the Slytherin table and Wilford gives him a cheerful wave, eyes full of mischief. Bim picks up the book the Host left on the table and promises to give it back to him during potions. It’s routine by now, a normal day at Hogwarts by their standards.

CREATURE FEAR (chapter 1/?) | ice, circa season 10 | s/o to the wonderful @kateyes224 for her word prompt(s) | see ao3 for a/n 

summary: Welcome to the top of the world. Please enjoy your stay.

This is their glacial thaw in the modern era. It is D.C. spring and his feet up on the office desk despite the protest of his knees. He smiles when she knocks on the open office door before coming in. 

This the ironically earth-bound slowness of them. She’s balancing coffee with one hand and deleting emails with another. The basement is losing its bleached smell, or she’s becoming accustomed to it. It used to matter to her, the difference between real change and careful self-delusion. Now, she breathes in deep.

“The world is melting, Scully.”

Monday morning, and he’s armed with the apocalypse.

“I watch CNN,” she says. “But good morning to you, too.”

Keep reading

3 against 25

Author:  Yeahjusttrash (tumblr: @cartoonloverstuff)

Artist:  stevetwisp (tumblr: @stevetwisp)

Summary:
Just a sweet one shot of Johnny, Ash, and Meena trying to watch Rosita’s kids together for a night. Johnny is natural great with the kids. Ash has some difficulty adjusting, but managed. Meena is used to babysitting, just not so many kids at once. Not much in the way of plot. Mostly just fun fluff.


“There’s plenty of snacks in the fridge, help yourselves. First aid kit is in the upstairs bathroom cupboard. Bedtime is at 8pm for the kids.-” Rosita spoke quickly as she went over information Johnny already knew. He had been staying with Rosita and her family for the past few weeks and figured the she was saying all this for the other two teenagers present.

On Johnny’s right was Ash looking completely out of place in the family house and on his left was Meena in her signature nervous stance. “We’ll be back by 11:00 at the latest. Call if you need anything.” Rosita said right before she disappeared out the door with her husband, leaving the three teens in a house with 25 children.

“3 to 25. We got this!” Johnny said with more confidence than he actually had.

Keep reading

Prince Adam Soulmate Au Part Two

This is getting cut into more parts than two I suppose.

Tagged: @sherlockravenclaw @theresnofandomforthis @darkwing-katy @221b-johnlocked-x @withouthannah @bucky-with-the-metal-arm @my-whataguythat-gaston @frozenhuntress67 @the-jam-to-the-unicorn @ami212 @jclements919 @epicfallenismine

Part One


“Where did that damned donkey go?” You huffed to yourself, stepping over the root of an old gnarled tree. “I swear, when I find him, he’s going to slaughter.” It was far too late into winter for you to be stomping around so late, but you had not other option. You hadn’t eaten in almost three days. 

Searching deeper into the forest, you stopped for a moment to take a break leaning against a tree. Resting against the tree, you contemplated if your lame mule was worth all of this effort. Considering you didn’t feel like relying on your cousin Gaston to hunt dinner for you, it unfortunately was. 

Not long after you’d sat down, you grew drowsy and realized you should be heading home soon as it was getting dark. Standing up, you dusted off your skirt before looking round in attempt to regain your bearings. Unfortunately, you had a sense of direction that was as good as a blind man’s sight. You just weren’t having the best day, in all honesty.

With a sigh, you attempted to find your footprints in the dirt as an indicator, but it was too dark to see much. Looking to the last rays of sun stretch over the horizon, you decided you might as well chase the sun, and so you did. Marching off in the direction of the setting sun, you let Fate choose where you ended up.

And Fate has a twisted sense of humour, doesn’t she?


“Master, would you like a cup of tea, sir?” The polite teapot inquired of the hunched over beast. 

“No,” he growled, scratching at his wrist again. The fur was in patches and his skin was raw, he couldn’t care less. It’d been years since he’d seen her scrawl on his skin, why should it matter how it looks now?

“Please, sir, you haven’t had a thing all day,” Mrs Potts insisted from her spot on the tray, sliding towards the open window of the Prince’s chambers just a little farther. “For all of us, at least have a cup of tea.” 

“Fine,” huffed the overdramatic furball, extending his hand outward for the tray to slide up to him. Taking a sip, the prince sighed as he looked outside his window. His ear twitched as something in the wind caught his attention. “Do you hear that?” 


Without much thought, you’d taken to shouting out the names of your townsfolk, hoping someone would hear you. “Gaston! Maurice! Tom! Pere! Belle! Laurette! Dick! Paulette! Lefou! Stanley!” And on you went, shouting into the increasingly dark forest. 

You sure are a smart one, aren’t you?

It wasn’t until you heard growling behind you did you realize that yelling in an unfamiliar place at night isn’t always welcome. Assuming the wolves were finally going to make your their feast, you were ready to accept your fate when you heard a growling voice. 

“What are you doing?” Growled the gruff voice from an unknown source. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat and any sense of logic you had, you decided to put on a friendly face and hope they wouldn’t eat it. “Well, you see, funny story, I lost my ass and I-” 

“You’re not welcome here.” 

“Well buddy ol’ friend, dear pal I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me so if you could just show me the way to-” Your rambling was cut off by a roar. “Okay then, I’ll just-” A giant cloaked figure stopped you from taking off in the opposite direction. 

That didn’t go as planned. 


Your senses lost to fright, you awoke to the frost of the early morning and cold, unforgiving stone upon your back. The freezing breeze flowing in from the open wall rose goosebumps on your arms, your teeth chattering in attempt to warm you. Looking around, you saw the sun had yet to rise and night’s clammy hands still held strong on the world. 

The dank cell smelled of rot and mildew, the stones under your palms moist from the morning dew, aided by the frighten clammy nature that struck your jittery hands. The mist from outside flowed in with the breeze, adding to the goosebumps on your skin. 

The weather seemed to frost your joints solid, unable to stand even if you so wished- though huddled together to conserve warmth seemed to be the more appealing option at the moment. Without Drawing onto yourself, you buried your face within your knees, your hands becoming stiff with the chill. Escape could wait until sunrise and warmth.

Only the Lord knows how long you’d stayed like that, shivering for warmth against the unforgiving elements, your lips turning a bluish hue and jaw aching from chattering before anxious chattering from outside your cell door drowned out the howl of the wind. 

Raising your eyes from the slight warmth your position allowed, you saw a warm light flickering just beyond your cell. Pulling apart your trembling lips, you called out a meek “Hello?” 

The voices silenced immediately, showing you they undoubtedly heard you. “Hello? Please,” you attempted to stand, unable to. Defeated, you resigned to repeat, “Please.” 

The voices picked back up again, quieter this time. The faintness of their words too quiet to detect- not that you’d been able to hear much before. Finally, one of the speakers shushed the other and you heard the clinking of metal against stone before the clinking of metal was heard, a tink tink tink echoed throughout the dungeon, slowly fading away.

The voices had gone, leaving you to your frozen misery.


Days past, everyone the same. Food would slide silently through the cell bars of your door before first morning light, no hands seen holding the plain metal tray, the tray would slide back out after you took the scrap of bread and cup of lukewarm broth offered. It did little to warm you up, so you would quietly ration your small portion until the sun rose, providing you the heat needed to function. 

Later in the day, another tray would come through, a similar “meal” on it, except this time with weak wine instead of broth. Nightfall would arrive and a lone cup of warm tea would slide in through the bars, you would mutter a grateful “thank you”, you never received a response. The empty cup would always disappear by morning. 

Between these meager supplements, you spent your time counting the bricks in your cell- 3,486, not including the bricks that were halved, 3,578 if you included them, and only 3,532 if you put two halves of a brick together. Once you’d done that, you counted the stones on the floor and sorted them by size. 32 stones as big as your palm, 59 stones the size of a walnut, and 1,345 stones smaller than your thumb. You also worked your fingers till they bled chipping away at the stone around the wall, convincing yourself that any moment now the door would break away and you’d be free- fully aware it wouldn’t, but you needed hope in a place like this. And on and on, you founds different ways to bid your time. 

You’d already attempted to pry open the bars, to kick down the door, to scream so loud that you were sure Gaston could hear you from Villeneuve, you cried and begged and pleaded with whatever god had abandoned you to return, to lend their aid one final time each night before you succumbed to sleep in the unforgiving darkness.

Yet the next morning you’d awake to the frost growing on your fingertips and the chill of another morning’s breath upon your neck. 

Scratches made on the wall counted the days of your solitude, one, two, four, seven, ten, until an entire brick had been filled with tallies and you’d given up counting. 

Finally, one day you did not get up from your crouched position in the corner of your cell, you did not take the scrap of bread in the morning, nor the weak wine at noon, you did not thank the quiet, invisible hand that brought you warm tea before indulging heartily. You did nothing but stare out the open wall, unseeing eyes glazed over. 

All was lost.


“Master please, she’s just a girl-” 

“That doesn’t matter!” Roared the agitated prince, swishing his cape dramatically as he turned to face the pleading candelabra. “She trespassed, she must be punished!” 

“She will freeze!” Protested Lumiere, having made up his mind that he will help this strange girl. “At least allow us to bring her a blanket, she doesn’t even have a proper coat!” 

Glaring down his footman, Adam growled. “She’s given warm drink before bed, that is enough.” 

“But master-” 

“I will speak no more of this trespassing wretch. My mind is made.” 

“Master if you would just list-” 

Enough!” 

Taking a breath, Lumiere nodded to his master, bowing lowly before exiting the room. “Cogsworth, come with me. I need to discuss something with you.” 


“Mademoiselle?” Lumiere whispered as he approached your cell,. Night had fallen hours ago, his master was asleep and the castle was silent as the grave. “Are you awake?” 

No sound greeted him. 

Looking to his companion, the candelabra gestured for Cogsworth to give him a boost. Climbing to the lever, Lumiere used his weight to pull it down and open the cell door. It creaked loudly, echoing ominously throughout the tower as he did so. Lumiere shot a panicked look to Cogsworth before looking anxiously around him. Not even the echo of a nightingale’s fleeting wings alerted them. They had not woken their master. 

“Lumiere, this is absolutely foolish,” Cogsworth insisted, wringing his hands. “Remember what the master said, she is to stay in her cell.” 

“No, the master said nothing about her room,” Lumiere grinned smartly at his friend, feeling confident in his logic. “He only said she is to receive a warm cup of tea, he did not say it had to be in a dank cell like this.” 

Cogsworth sighed and knew Adam wouldn’t fall for his logic, but stood guard for his friend anyways- he did feel the master would be a bit unreasonable about this, so he felt at least a little justified in helping her. 

As the clock had an internal moral dilemma, Lumiere tentatively walked into the cell, looking around the large door to see you in the same position you’d been for almost two days now. 

Knees to your chest, your cheek rested on your shoulder. Your eyes closed, as they had been since midday of yesterday, a thin layer of frost cementing your lashes together. The only sign of life being the short puffs of steam coming from your nose as you breathed shallow breaths. 

Walking closer, he saw your eyelids tremor at the light he was emitting, so he blew out his hands, leaving only his head glowing faintly. 

“Oh mon dieu,” Lumiere gasped, calling to Cogsworth. The clock hurriedly waddled off to fetch assistance. “Mademoiselle, can you hear me?”

Your eyelids tremored a bit more, a sickening crunch of ice echoing in the cell as you slowly opened your eyes. First squinting harshly at the light before you, your eyes soon adjusted and you looked too the small man before you. Hunger had captured your mind, you were dizzy with frost, the glowing little man before you startled you very little- you brushed it off as a hallucination or alteration of reality. Mustering your strength, you lifted your head and nodded once. 

“Good, good!” Lumiere praised, “Now, please, can you stand at all?” 

Swallowing what little you could, you breathed in the frigid air and moved your stiff arms. The stone floor was ice against your palms as you attempted to push yourself up. Not without great difficulty, you managed to stand, albeit wobbly at first. Blood rushed to your head, hunger striking much fiercer than before, you clutched at the wall for support. Lumiere stood with baited breath as you attempted to remain upright. 

At what could only be described as the opportune moment, Mrs Potts came with her trolley and with some difficulty, managed to get your weak form upon it. “Come now, Mademoiselle, let’s get you to a better room.”


Scary Stories

Eleventh installment of the Jacob Black “Home” series (“Home” - “Familiarities” - “Reunion” - “Pitching Fits”- “Grand Gestures” - “Jail Break” - “Ice” - “Head Trauma” - “Changing Tides” - “Sunshine”) requested by so, so many of you. As always, more installments will be rolling in to follow the events of the series, so keep an eye out for the next installment or two, as they’ll be wrapping the events of Twilight and sending us blazing into New Moon territory. Hope you like it!

All past and future installments of this series can be found on the “The Story Continues…” page. Songs to accompany the series are available on the “Playlists” page.

Jacob was all but glowing beneath the sun, an image you could hardly tear your eyes from as you basked in the novelty of the uncharacteristic weather. His hair, tied with a rubber band at the nape of his neck, shone like polished obsidian, and his gangling walk made the sunlight dance along the crown of his head. He was in the middle of an anecdote, and one you were far too familiar with; he was spinning a rather exaggerated tale based loosely around the time when, at the ripe age of seven, you had pushed his older sister Rebecca into the tide pools at First Beach. He paused every few sentences to stare at you with eyes darkened by fabricated loathing, the betrayal you had dealt his beloved sister clearly weighing heavily on his broad shoulder, despite the many years that had passed since she’d gone flailing into the glorified puddle. Although this was technically your first date (Jacob had made sure to stress the technical bit, stating all boredom and lack of adventure on this such quote-end quote “date” was subject to the peculiarity of the “date”), your time with Jacob thus far seemed nothing out of the ordinary; perhaps, you thought, it was the matter of his personality and your own familiarity that made today seem so… normal. There was hardly anything you could think of him doing that would make a date of this nature seem anything more than a romantic spin with your best friend, but there was absolutely nothing wrong with that.

“And then, wearing nothing but rain boots and a cape, I jumped out from a cloud of smoke and sunk my teeth into her neck, killing her instantly.” You snapped your head to attention, prying your eyes away from the warmth that clung to the high plane of Jacob’s cheekbone, redirecting your gaze to lock on his eyes, glittering as they were over a wide, dramatic snarl. “There she is. How was your trip?” he jested, leaning into your side as he walked, chuckling to see you roll your eyes, your face ducked to conceal the blush that raged beneath the delicate skin of your face. “What were you thinking about?” he pried, his eyes raking over your face as it lifted from hiding, his eyes warm and attentive on yours. You shrugged, stepping pointedly over a divot in the earth, your eyes scanning the salted horizon, following the swells of the waves as they roiled inward toward land.

“Just… I don’t know, daydreaming I suppose,” you confessed, calculating carefully before speaking to cover the worst of your truth with the simplicity of a partial lie. Although your thoughts were primarily occupied by, well, by Jacob (though not entirely by his words, at the very moment), there was a part of your mind that remained firmly locked in thought, turning in and over itself trying to unscramble the enigma that was the Cullen boy. How did he manage to stop that van with just his hand, and how was he able to send you flying backward with so little effort? Although the hand print had all but faded from your flesh, the injury lingered like a bruise on your brain. There was something about him… so absorbed in Bella, and yet he wouldn’t join her on the juniors’ beach excursion. To be fair, you would have avoided Mike Newton like the plague, too, if given the chance, but it seemed… out of character for Edward Cullen to want to keep his distance from Bella, especially after their little get-together at lunch and the resulting carriage ride home. Jacob waited patiently for further explanation, knowing too well your character… and though you wanted so desperately to relay to him the truths that had kept you awake nights turning over details instead of sleeping, something in you forced you to withhold the information. Instead, you opted for a similar topic to Edward Cullen, hoping somewhat blindly that you could ease the conversation in the right direction and release some of your pent-up frustration without revealing the exact capacity your brain had for insanity. “It’s just… I feel kind of guilty leaving Bells with Mike Newton. She invited someone else, but they didn’t show.” Jacob grimaced regretfully, sharing in your sympathy for Bella.

“I can’t see why anyone would turn Bella down, especially with her being so… new to town. With a population the size of Forks, it’s a wonder she hasn’t been swarmed yet.” You shot a look in his direction that implied how severe the swarming had been already, and he winced playfully. “Yikes. So, who’s the outlier?” Leave it to Jacob to flip the turn signal when you were turning the wheel. You tread carefully, both physically and mentally, as you drew nearer to the beach.

“Edward Cullen.” Jake snorted, shaking his head in understanding. “What? Am I missing something, here?” Jake raised his hand, waving it absentmindedly in the space between you, dashing your inquiry from the air. You weren’t backing down so easily; he had you hooked like a salmon on Harry Clearwater’s fishing line. “Jake, come on. What is it?” Jacob’s warm eyes fell on your face then, his pace slowing to a lazy shuffle, his hands diving deep within his pockets as he lead the way down a crumbling sand dune, his direction aimed at the group of juniors huddled around a dazzling driftwood fire.

“Well, I mean… I was gonna say the Cullens don’t come here. They’re not allowed on the reservation… well, they’re not supposed to come here. It’s stupid, really.” You opened your mouth to speak, confused by his cryptic language, when Bella spotted you approaching, all but leaping from her seat and dashing to your side. She extended her arms to encircle Jacob, eyeballing you maternally over his shoulder, her face hinting at all the teasing to be expected with sisterly love, holding him at an arm’s length before addressing the both of you.

“Hey, Y/n, could I borrow Jacob real quick? I just had… well, there’s a boy over by the fire-” she jabbed a thumb in the direction of a staggeringly tall Quileute boy, his hair far shorter than Jake’s, but tied in the same manner. Jacob interjected, supplying the name “Sam” before allowing Bella to finish. “Right, sure. He was talking about… do you know any good Quileute legends?” Jake raised his eyebrows at you as Bella began to lead him away from the fire, her brow knotted in concentration. As she passed, her lips by your ear, she spoke in a voice so low you could barely hear. “Give me five minutes?” You nodded, shuffling your way towards the bonfire, accepting the sandwich Angela passed in your direction. You settled in by her side, extending your palms toward the flames, hoping to chase every remnant of the week’s icy history from your fingertips. Angela’s conversation was an appreciated shift; her quiet, serene voice was easy to grasp, and her talk of the upcoming school events kept your mind occupied, for the most part, on something other than the Cullens… and their strange ban from La Push.

Bella, as always, was good on her word; she kept you waiting no more than five minutes before returning Jacob to your care, his laughter giving him away long before their approaching footfall could cue their entry. He slid onto the log beside you, his body close enough to touch at every perimeter, Bella’s eyes darting to the lack of space between you both before raising her brows in your direction. You rolled your eyes, shifting slightly to the side, watching Bella bite her lip to keep from laughing aloud. Jake, oblivious to her watchful eye, minimized the distance between you again, shifting to compensate for your movement, his hands snagging the unclaimed triangle half of a sandwich from where you had balanced it on your kneecap. You elbowed him playfully, sharing the briefest of smiles before averting your eyes, hyper-aware of your sister’s gaze dissecting your every move.

“Tell any good stories, there, Jake?” you prodded, watching his shoulders shrug, his head tilted in your direction as he whispered his response. “Hopefully something better than the time I pushed Rebecca into a tide pool and you murdered a woman in cold blood.” Jacob’s eyes perked up at the mention of blood, his eyes dancing dangerously as they locked on yours.

“No, nothing could top that and you know it, but now that you mention blood, your sister seemed really interested in the stories of Quileute ancestry; you know, the spirit warriors who hunted as wolves and the cold ones that drank the blood of the innocent.” He tore a chunk from his sandwich, wiggling his eyebrows as he continued, his hand lifted to conceal the majority of his mouth to keep you from spying the food he was chewing. “Apparently Sam mentioned the Cullens, and she wanted to know why they weren’t allowed here, too. I swear, you guys must be twins. Are you sure you didn’t just… hang out in your mom too long? Like, you’re sure you didn’t just sleep through the alarm, there?” You laughed, somewhat halfheartedly, your mind distracted in every degree. Either Bella was digging for dirt on the Cullen boy (and his strange rejection when he seemed so smitten), or she had not forgotten the bizarre events that aided her narrow escape from death either. You stood from your seat, standing before Jacob as you dusted the crumbs from your hands on the rough denim of your pant legs. You needed to talk about something else, anything else. You were done destroying your brain over the Cullen boy.

“You wanna go revisit those tide pools?” you offered, watching Jacob dart up from his seat, his eyes eager as he, too, rid himself of crumbs. He mumbled something about being more than willing, so long as you didn’t push him in, your eyes rolling as you stepped around Angela’s feet. He gestured for you to lead the way, his hand brushing against the small of your back as you turned to leave the fire pit, your skin tingling at the touch. It was still such a strange concept, Jacob as anything but a friend, but you couldn’t say you didn’t enjoy this new side of him. He followed you away from the gathering, your sister’s eyes burning a hold in the back of your head as you climbed the dunes and receded out of sight. You turned to check for prying eyes as you stumbled forward, Jacob matching your pace easily, his shoulder rubbing against yours as you walked toward the treeline. “You know, we don’t have to go to the tide pools if you don’t want to, I just wanted to get away from the fire.” Jacob raised his eyebrows at you, tacking-on the nonverbal and your sister you didn’t want to admit. You sighed, smiling as you exhaled, nodding in confirmation. Jacob’s hand brushed against yours as you walked, twisting at the wrist and twining his fingers with yours, the warmth of his palm buzzing with electricity. You grinned, meeting his gaze in the silence of the moment before bursting into laughter, Jacob’s voice tangling with yours in the space between you, his cheeks wide with his smile. It was… strange, this sensation; the lightness in your chest, the burn beneath your skin, but with Jacob it all felt so… natural, even if it was a bit silly, given the extent of your familiarity.

“Hey, this isn’t so bad, is it? Not as weird as we thought it’d be,” he chuckled, swinging your hands between your bodies, your shoulder leaning against his as you walked, stopping just a few feet into the forest, your back against the trunk of a pine tree. Jacob held your hand, suspended between your bodies, the toes of his shoes touching yours, his teeth biting his lower lip to keep his smile in check. You beamed, your skin humming where it touched his, the sun that sifted through the emerald canopy above painting his cheeks with patches of golden light, crowning him before your very eyes.

“Not at all. It feels…” you trailed off, your voice failing you as Jacob drew nearer by a fraction of an inch, his hand on yours shifting just slightly to the side to allow for his advance. You tried again, clearing your throat nervously before parting your lips to speak. “It feels…” Jacob stepped close to you, then, his eyes flickering once between your eyes and your lips. He inhaled slowly, his voice soft with a gentle conviction.

“Right.” He ducked his face to yours, his lips a breath away from yours when Mike Newton’s voice rang out through the trees, startling you from your close proximity, your hands abandoning each other with the swiftness of criminals caught huddled over the body of their victim, blood staining their clothes. Mike’s face appeared by the path into the forest, a few feet from where you stood with Jacob, now at a comical distance, his hood pulled up over his carefully gelled hair.

“Hey, Y/n, we’re headed back to the store. Sky’s gonna open up any minute now, so Bella wanted me to come get you,” he explained, his eyes flickering between your face and Jacob’s, watching as your best friend toed at a stone, his eyes averted, one hand tucked away in the pocket of his jeans, the other absentmindedly scratching at the back of his head; the picture of a guilty party feigning lack of involvement.

“Great, Mike. I’ll be there in a second,” you sighed, your ears picking up on the splattering of raindrops as they struck the leaves overhead. Mike ducked out of sight, Jacob’s eyes lifting as soon as he had gone. You winced at the boy, his hand leaving his pocket to offer a shrug of powerlessness and faux-sympathy. “Guess that’s my cue. I’ll… I’ll see you around, Jake. I’m sure there’s a game on this weekend, so if you want to come over then, I’m sure we could steal some time away from the old men.” Jacob grinned, a little halfheartedly, his eyes burning on yours. You walked forward, your arms outstretched for an embrace, Jacob shuffling forward to fill the space between your bodies, his hands planting securely on the small of your back as yours wound around the back of his neck. “I’ll see you soon, Jake,” you whispered, pressing your lips to the curve of his cheekbone before detangling yourself from his arms, his smile halfway between bewilderment and contentment, his teeth biting down once more on his lips to keep his smile from overpowering his features.

“Sure, sure,” he whispered, grinning in your direction, returning your wave as you walked off towards the parking lot, leaving Jacob beneath the cover of the trees, catching a glimpse of his beaming smile, full to bursting with joy, just seconds before losing him to the forest. The rain beat down on the roof of Mike’s car as he shuttled the group out of La Push, Bella’s arm crushed against your side as you traveled homeward, your silence persisting even after you had bid farewell to the rest of the students. Despite all you had heard during your stay in La Push, not a single word was spoken in regard to the Cullens. Not a single word was spoken, period. You drove home in silence, listening to the steady fall of rain on the windshield of Bella’s truck, the wipers smearing water uselessly as the skies continued to bleed onto the earth below. Whatever Bella had learned on the beach was clearly distracting her, occupying her thoughts enough to bar her from making conversation, or even from asking you about Jacob Black’s so obvious interest. You couldn’t help but wonder if she knew more than she was letting on… or if, perhaps, she was just as lost as you were.

MHA dub commentary episode 8:

  • i have been putting this episode off for way too long and that’s probably because it’s about Bakugou’s emotional breakdown and i am emotional even before the video starts
  • baby Izuku and Bakugou are so cute i wanna cry 
  • have i mentioned how much i love Bakugou’s dub voice yet because if i have i’m gonna say it again: i love his dub voice
  • last time on MHA: Bakugou and Izuku fucking attack each other and, as usual, only Izuku got hurt
  • he’s still working on that
  • pauses the ep to admire all of Bakugou’s amazing expressions
  • “IN THE NAME OF VILLAINY, STOP THIS!!!” he cries as a bunch of giant rocks come rushing at him. i love you Iida
  • Izuku’s voice acting here is so amazing i just. love it
  • and the animation here is fucking spectacular
  • *pauses again to admire Bakugou’s distraught expressions* don’t look at me
  • i should also mention that Izuku has some fantastic expressions here too
  • i just. Bakugou just has fantastic expressions overall, but these ones are just. beautiful. i love my confused, terrified, distraught son

Keep reading

Tell it to the Marines - Swan Maiden/Soulmate AU

[A hope-you-feel-better short AU for @tsume-yuki, hope you enjoy it!]

Ace had the mantle for as long as he could remember.

It always appeared in his possession if he traveled too far, materializing out of the air like magic. Falling across his shoulders like he’d never left it behind, nailed down deep in the chest at the end of his bed. The strange looks he’d received while walking into town with a collar of feathers around his neck were too much, so he tried getting rid of it.

Selling it was pointless because it would always come back.

Burying it did nothing.

Throwing it into the ocean, again, did nothing.

Burning it had no effect either, though it was gone longer than usual and he’d fallen into a deep depression during that entire span so he never tried it again.

Sabo had been fascinated, wondering if it had any other powers and overall had been the reason he came to accept the mysterious coat. Luffy just became all starry-eyed and asked where he could get one too. He’d been disappointed when Ace couldn’t give him a direct answer.

It wasn’t until after he left Dawn Island and became a pirate that part of the mystery was solved.

“That’s a Valkyrie’s cloak ,” Marco murmured in surprise, when the cape faded into existence around his person. The black and red feathers were all ruffled in an agitated manner, reflecting Ace’s mood as he sat glowering on the Moby Dick’s deck. “How did you come across something like that?”

It turned out that Marco was much older than he appeared. Much, much older. And knew what the mantle signified.

He’d been chosen, by some divine providence, to be the husband of a Swan Maiden.

A Swan Maiden or otherwise known as a Valkyrie, a mythical female warrior that served as protectors of the King of their choosing.

What the hell?

Ace laughed in the man’s face once he’d gotten over the shock of his explanation, because it was just that ridiculous. Who in their right mind would choose him of all people to marry such a powerful figure? He was the demon child of the late Pirate King. There was no way a woman (or any woman for that matter) would find it beneficial to be burdened with him as a husband. He wanted nothing to do with it.

Or so he thought.

He very much wanted to eat those bitter words the first moment he laid eyes on her.

She was on Luffy’s crew, his little brother her chosen King (because of course Luffy was that lucky, why wouldn’t he be). Riskua was her name, hair the color of a crimson dawn and eyes so startlingly yellow they could have very well been plucked right from a beast’s skull. She was a warrior, fierce and loyal. Vicious as a hurricane in the heat of battle.

And to him, she was as radiant as the sun.

It was no wonder he was tongue tied, the moment she strode up to him and gave a beauteous smile, her yellow eyes melting into warm amber.

“I see my favor has guarded you well. It’s good to finally meet you, I’ve been waiting,” she says, and Ace nearly faints.

He returns her mantle, and the red and black wings that burst from her back only add to her feral beauty. The Straw Hats crew give the appropriate applause, ‘oohing’ and 'aahing’ as she flaps the wings experimentally. Ace smiles as she takes to the sky, her wings beating powerfully through the air, her form shifting to that of a black swan, the crown of her avian head as red as her hair.

His heart soars with her and he knows now that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

They later sit beneath the stars, huddled among the feathers of the mantle, two hearts beating as one at last.

Jason Todd/ Red Hood X Reader- No Grave Can Keep Me Away From You

I kinda got carried away………

—————————

You punched the last crook in the face, breaking his nose in the process.  He collapsed onto the ground and clutched his nose, mumbling utter nonsense about how much his medical bill is going to be.  He stayed down, making your job easier, and allowed you to continue to beat the pulp out of the goons that continued to swarm through your old client’s facility.  He had decided to send you on a suicide mission to save someone, and you decided that his ass belonged in a grave for what he did.  He didn’t do that much to you, but he sent you to become a mindless slave.  There had been hundreds of men and women that were affected by this, and you would love to erase all of the things you saw from your mind.  He was sick in the head to sum it up, and it was now your job to kill his ass.  Once your last opponent fled, you made your way to where your client was holed up.

“Phil, you son of a bitch, where are you?” you hollered and stomped into his almost empty office.

You followed the sound of muffled sobbing and found Phil huddled under his desk, a gun clutched in his hand.  He gasped when you pulled him out from under the desk and shoved him against the wall.  You took the gun from his hand and pointed it directly in his lap.

“Hi, Phil,” you greeted, cocking the gun.  “Funny seeing you here.”

“(Y/S/N), wha-what are you doing here?” Phil stuttered out.

“You know why,” you growled. “How many people do you have to involve in your sick game?!  Do you realize what you have done?!”

He whimpered and continued to sob against the wall. You rolled your eyes and moved the gun until it was directly on the side of his head.  His sobs grew louder and louder until a familiar voice spoke behind you.

“Let him go, (Y/N).”

You pulled the trigger and watched Phil’s body drop to the floor, “You know, you’re always the one who says our names during hero work. So Batman, what are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to put an end to all of this,” Bruce stated.

You laughed, “You could have done that if you saved me from that psycho.”

“You know I did my best to-”

You interrupted him by ripping your mask off, revealing your scarred face, “THIS IS WHAT YOU DID TO ME!!  I followed every single one of your orders, even when I was grieving over my parents’ and Jason’s death!  Look where that got me!  I’m done following your goddamn rules.”

You pulled out a lighter and lit it, watching the horror appear on Bruce’s masked face.

“(Y/N), please come home,” Bruce begged.

“Hell no,” you laughed once again. “I’m not going through all of that again.  Do you realize what I went through to survive through all of that?  After I escaped on my own, I told myself to never trust you again.”

You dropped the lighter on Phil’s body and threw down a smoke bomb, causing Bruce to back away and pull his cape over his mouth.  You ran towards the window and collided with the glass, causing millions of pieces to fall after you.  You knew you were at least 60 stories above the ground when you saw someone soaring on a line heading towards your way.  You grabbed your grappling hook and shot it at the nearest building.  The figure was about fifteen feet away from you when you swung out of the way, landing on one of the smaller buildings. You landed and discarded the grappling hook, knowing that the figure was right behind you.  The figure was male and wearing a red helmet.  What really caught your attention was the red bat symbol under his leather jacket.  You stopped running and faced him.

“Did Batsy drag another poor soul into his conquest?” you asked the stranger, chuckling at his confused demeanor.  “Trust me, you’ll get more broken than you are if you trust that guy.”

The man continued to stare at you, not even moving an inch when you started walking towards the edge of the building.  

“See you around,” you smirked and disappeared from his view.

He couldn’t believe it.  You were standing there, right in front of him, alive and…. different.  Obviously your face was scarred, and you ditched Bruce, but your attitude had changed.  He watched as you left him standing dumbstruck on the roof, and he remained there until he saw Bruce swinging his way.

—————–

“It sucks man, I literally love her so much I don’t find other girls attractive anymore,” Jason explained while pacing around Roy’s workshop.

“Then go talk to her, idiot,” Roy said and continued to tinker with his latest contraption.

“Yeah, let me walk up to her and tell her I’m alive?  That’s going to be a great conversation,” Jason snorted.

“Dude, do you want her?”

“She’s all I want,” Jason admitted.

“Then go get her!”

“How am I supposed to find her?  She’s running around with a new persona and gadgets, plus she seems different.  When I saw her, she didn’t even care if I saw her face, she didn’t even try to attack me, and I know something bad happened to her while I was gone,” Jason added.

Roy sighed and set his screwdriver down, “Jason, all you need to do is find her and talk.  You can’t just go moping around like Romeo when Rosaline rejected his ass.  You need to go find your Juliet.”

“You’re really comparing my life to that tragedy?” Jason asked.

“That’s the only example I could think of!” Roy defended himself.  “Stop stalling and go!”

“Fine, but we’re not done with this conversation,” Jason grumbled before exiting the room.

“He’s totally whipped,” Roy chuckled and resumed his tinkering.

——————

You were finishing off a rapist when you saw him again, Red Hood.  After your first meeting, you did some digging on the guy and found out that he was with Bruce, but he definitely didn’t follow the bat’s rules.

“Hey stranger,” you smirked and pulled the trigger.  

The body fell onto the ground, blood already seeping from the fatal wound.  You turned around and saw that your gut was correct, the Red Hood was standing right behind you.

“What brings you to the dark side of town?” you asked and leaned up against the brick wall, not a hint of remorse in your system.

“I was looking for you,” he replied.

You smiled, “Do I have to ask why?”

Jason chuckled lightly, “Let’s get out of here before the cops arrive, and then I’ll tell you why.”

“Sounds a little risky, but I’ll bite,” you yawned and pulled down the fire escape ladder.

You climbed it until you reached the top of the building.  When Jason stepped onto the roof, he knew you wanted answers.

“We’re away from the scene, now why do you want to talk?  It’s not everyday a vigilante doesn’t want to talk with his fists and have a nice conversation with another, but mentally unstable, vigilante,” you said and sat on the edge of the building.

Jason sighed and took off his helmet.  You looked at him in confusion, but it soon became fear when he peeled off the domino mask.

“No, you can’t be real,” you whispered and backed away from him.  “It’s been a hallucination, it’s only a hallucination.”

Jason watched as you kept backing away from him and pulling at your hair, but ran to you when you were going to fall off the building.  He sat down and held your face in his hands.  He took off your mask and saw the (E/C) eyes that once bore into his with happiness, but they were faded, as if you had the life sucked from you.

“(Y/N), it’s me,” Jason said and pulled your gloved hands onto his face.  “It’s me.”

“How?” you quavered.

“No grave can keep me away from you,” Jason said.

You let out a laugh, a real laugh, and smiled.  For the first time in years, you actually felt at peace with yourself.

Jason smiled and stood up, taking you with him, “Do you think take out would be a good reunion food?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled his lips to yours, “I think it’s perfect.”

Elmwood (Ch 1)

So this went super long! almost 3k words. Which is why I’m adding a break. I’m tagging @promiscuous-jalapeno @kazekunai and @booyakasha516 Thank you guys for the encouragement to write more on this and the feedback!

Elmwood List

(2 years later)

“Saeyoung!” Yoosung spit the coffee he had been drinking out on the ground. His mouth was filled with mud and he tried to scrape it off his tongue. Saeyoung rolled around on the ground, his ruddy tunic picking up dead leaves and twigs.

“Why? What? When did you switch my cup?” Yoosung stuttered, attempting to clear out his mouth and stomp on Saeyoung at the same time. Saeyoung caught his boot as it came down and flipped Yoosung over. Yoosung landed with a loud thump, the breath in his body being knocked out. The bit of mud left in his mouth slid down his throat and he choked on it, his face turning red.

“Why did I ever agree to travel with you?” he spat into the ground, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiping his tongue and mouth. He scooted over to his waterskin and poured enough in his mouth to rinse it out. Behind him Saeyoung’s laughter began to die down.

“Aw, come on Yoosung, you’re just so easy to pick on. I didn’t mean anything by it. Here, I’ll pour you another cup.” Saeyoung turned to the coffee pot by the fire pit.

“No thanks! I’m not drinking anything you give me. In fact,” he stood up and walked back to the log he had been sitting on, “I’m not putting anything in my mouth that you give me.” He sat down indignantly. “Just wait until you need my help again. See if I feel inclined to heal you next time!”

“Don’t pout! You know I love you my little Yoosungie!” Saeyoung tried to pinch the blonde’s blushing cheeks. Yoosung batted his hands away. It was so much fun teasing the half-elf. He meant what he said too. He did love Yoosung. He’d been alone for so long when they had met, and even though Saeyoung tried to keep his distance, he had grown to enjoy Yoosung’s companionship and friendship. Before he knew it, he realized he would die for the young half-elf. He cherished the friendship but it still did not fill the hole in his heart where his twin should be.

He sighed wistfully and sat on his own log facing Yoosung on the other side of the fire.

“Thinking about Saeran again?” Yoosung asked quietly, Saeran was usually the only reason Saeyoung would ever frown. He was normally happy-go-lucky, even though Yoosung knew it was only to mask his insecurity and sadness. Saeyoung’s half-brother had disappeared when they were 15 and Saeyoung had been looking for him ever since.

Saeyoung nodded, his head down, elbows at his knees, hands clasped. The redhead looked up at Yoosung, he was the only person he had ever trusted enough to tell his complete story to. He supposed they had a mutually shitty past and could commiserate. He blinked his amber eyes and asked, “Do you ever miss your home Yoosung? Your family?”

Yoosung bowed his head and shrugged noncommittedly.

“My mother, that’s all. But I’ll see her again. You’ll find Saeran. I know it. I’ll keep praying to Gala for help.”

“You do that.” Saeyoung snickered. He held no stock in gods, they were too fickle for him. However, he did appreciate the power to heal that Yoosung’s god gave him. Without it, Saeyoung would be dead.

They had had to leave Fennear in a hurry. Saeyoung had been hired to obtain information about an up and coming influential player in politics. He cared little about those people, as they played no role in his own life, so he had taken the job. Unfortunately, the information he obtained had pertained to the man’s daughter, who would have been used, or killed, to achieve a political goal. Saeyoung didn’t have many rules, he bought, sold, and stole information for a living, never giving a second thought as to what it would be used for, however, he would never put a child’s life in jeopardy for a few gold coins. Those who hired him didn’t see it that way and had put a bounty on his head. With Yoosung’s help, they had escaped just in time, before the noose tightened within the city. Now they travelled towards Windward Cross. It would be easy to disappear in a city that large.

 As they sat there silently, each with thoughts of their own past filling their minds, a large explosion sounded to the west of their camp. They both stood up and stared at the roiling black cloud ascending to the sky. Looking at each other they shrugged, grabbed their weapons, and headed out to investigate.

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Fools II Jaspar fanfiction

The tale of how Caspar Lee fell in love with Joe Sugg, told by Joshua Pieters.

Disclaimer: Nothing here belongs to me and obviously none of this is true. All events depicted here are purely fictional.

A/N: Yo this bitch got inspired and started yet another story… this doesn’t mean my other stories will be abandoned

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「roommates - jjk: 1」

part one - part two


“you, my friend, are possibly the worst person to put makeup on.” cassidy positioned hayden’s head forwards for what felt like the hundredth time. a bad habit hayden has when she gets nervous is that she twists and turns, unable to stay in one spot. groaning, she leant her head against the back of the chair rest and closed her eyes, beginning to let her imagination free. she imagined what the crowd looked like out there, bordered off from the red carpet that was screaming her name. flowers were tracing the edge, paparazzi lights flashing in her direction, and voices cascading throughout the area. opening her eyes again, cassidy had already moved to a different station to fix up a different actor who was also walking down the red carpet. a scoff escaped her lips as she positioned her head back to a normal position and stared at the reflection before her. hayden couldn’t deny the power cassidy had whenever she applied makeup. her insecurities out of sight made her feel on top of the world.

“hayden! anna! lauren!” the faint voice of her manager shook her back into reality as she stepped closer to the three girls who were to make an appearance on the red carpet, looking more stressed than usual. her eyes dotted from the clock to the trio. “you three have five minutes before you go on. hayden, why don’t you have your outfit on yet— actually, it doesn’t matter. just go put the dress on immediately.”

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(I have no idea what Infinity War will be like, so I’m going to make up some stuff to write this scene because I Need.) 

Bucky’s heart clenched as he looked at Steve beside him in this haze of alien gunfire. As determined as the tiny punk who fought bullies in alleyways, the super soldier had his teeth bared in defiance, shield held up to deflect the blast away from the pair of them and right back at the grunts. What a damn beautiful disaster.

“Steve!” Bucky yelled as he fired a couple of rounds into the wave of enemies. Despite how hard the pair of them and all their allies fought, Bucky knew a last stand when he saw one. And, well, there had always been one thing he’d wanted to do before he bit it.

“Yeah Buck?” Steve vaulted off Bucky’s shoulder to kick an alien in the chops. Trust Steve to just kick things in a battle where mystical red magic and that caped wizard’s reality warping was going on.

“You know how we always talked about getting married? Like our perfect gal, where we’d have it, how your tiny ass would look in a suit?” Bucky hurled a grenade over a car the grunts had taken cover from Falcon behind.

Steve just smacked another alien into next week with his shield. “Yeah?”

This banter was just like the old days.

“Well I reckon that if we’re gonna die here today I want to get married.” Bucky rolled behind the bus that was the centre of the fight as a blast melted the tarmac where he’d been seconds ago.

“Nobody’s dying today!” Steve yelled, hurled his shield, hit five aliens with bounces then caught it again. How he even did that, Bucky had no idea.

“Steve!” The desperate edge on Bucky’s voice made Steve turn toward him eyes wide. Bucky just grabbed his friend by the front of his Star Spangled Spandex and pulled him close as they both huddled behind the shield. “Will you marry me?”

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Burning love

Anon request: 13,25,36,46 with Peter pan please

I blew my h/c hair out of my e/c eyes as I basted the hog roasting over the fire what seemed like the millionth time.

The heat from both the fire and the island was getting to me. I guess I’ve always been pretty sensitive. My face was glistening with sweat and I wiped it on my shoulder as I had my hands full.

The lost boys were mostly gathered in the centre of the camp playing some stupid rowdy game, likely to get themselves hurt. I could see it happening already.

A few of them remained to ‘help’ prepare the food for tonight when we were having another celebration for a new lost boy. I swear Pan will look for any excuse to have a party. He can be remarkably happy at times considering the foul mood he’s usually in.

Those preparing the food were hindering more than helping, and to top it off, Felix was adding his unhelpful input.

“Y/n you missed a bit,” he drawled.

“Where?,” I said, exasperated.

“On the flank.”

I rotated the hog to check. “No I haven’t.”

“Made you look though.”

I rolled my eyes and continued basting.

On my right I could see a lost boy cutting fruit clumsily.

“You want to be more careful holding the knife like that,” I told him.

He gave me a look of discontent. “Do it yourself then; cooking’s a girl’s job anyway.” He slammed down the knife and stalked away.

Great more work for me.

Or…

“Felix could you finish cutting those for me?” I asked sweetly.

He just laughed. “Who died and made you queen?”

“Ugh, fine but if the roast gets burnt, I’m not taking the fall for it.”

I prayed it wouldn’t burn on one side while I finished cutting the fruit. To be sure, I kept a careful eye on it, rushing when I was cutting the last few pieces because I could see the roast start to go a little too black.

I threw the last few berries and fruit pieces into a bowl and returned to the hog, turning it immediately. The boys playing their game had quietened and were staring at me.

“What?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “It’ll be done in a bit, have some patience.”

They just smirked as if they knew something I didn’t.

Whatever.

But then, I felt someone’s presence behind me as they grabbed my arms, shouting, “boo!”.

Real mature. But I didn’t even jump. I was used to this type of childish behaviour by now so I was almost always on high alert when things seemed suspicious.

I turned around to give him a scolding look but he was wearing a mask so I couldn’t see who it was. What was I saying about being childish?

I stood on my tiptoes to reach him and pulled the mask consisting of wood and hide off of him and throwing it into the fire.

“Grow up,” I said.

“HEY!” he said pushing me. “Why’d you have to burn that?”

“Why do you have to act so childish?” I retaliated.

A chorus of “oooh”s and “you gonna take that?”s followed.

I heard Pan’s voice not far away through the silence, coming closer to camp. Because of that, I chose not to take further part in the banter with the lost boys and ignored the idiot behind me.

He appeared to have heard him too.

“Simple bitch,” he said, before turning away.

“Don’t talk about your mother that way,” I chided. I know I said I wasn’t going to retaliate but…

The lost boy shoved me hard so I fell onto the hog roast, breaking the pole it was tied to and my torso upwards ended up in the fire..

I was shocked. For a moment. Then reality made a swift return when the pain of the flames licking me kicked in. I launched myself backwards away from the fire as the heat sank into my skin.

A scream tore from my lips in an octave I hadn’t known I was capable of reaching.

I’d only touched the fire for a second or two at most but it felt like minutes as my skin burned. My hands the most as they’d gone straight into the hot ash as a natural reflex to falling.

My cape had caught fire and I hastened to remove it, fumbling with the knot but at last flinging it off onto the ground where it continued to burn.

Tears streamed down my ashen face. I tried to reassure myself it probably wasn’t as bad as it felt but it still hurt like hell.

Pan emerged with the new boy from the trees at the edge of the camp to find the huddle of lost boys silent and myself crying.

“What’s going on here?” he asked in a calm voice.

When no one answered. he repeated himself. “I said what’s going on here?”

The asperity in his tone was evident.

“I was pushed into the fire,” I said at last, choking on my words.

“Who pushed you?” he said, coming closer while eyeing my cape smouldering on the floor.

I shook my head. The boy who did it had slipped away at some point during the accident and I didn’t even know his name.

“Who did this!?” Pan roared at the lost boys.

Felix cleared his throat. “Darren.”

Pan’s eyes turned dark with the desire to kill. He scanned the faces in the crowd and within seconds a boy dropped to the floor dead, after the unmistakable sound of his neck breaking by the force of Pan’s magic.

I gulped, looking away.

Pan grabbed my scorched hand and teleported us to his tent.

“I should have something for the burns,” he stated, pulling open a cupboard filled with jars. He rummaged through them then pulled out what looked like a creamish-white coloured salve.

“Where are you burnt?”

“Just my arms and my face, I think.”

“I mean do you have any burns on your… chest… area…?”

He coughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No.” I said. “All the layers I was wearing, I guess.”

“Right,” he said. He opened the jar of the salve. “This is probably going to sting,” he warned.

He started rubbing the salve onto my face which produced a cooling effect but became more painful as he got further towards my jaw.

I had to say, it was strange to see this nicer side of Pan for the first time. He’s usually always so passive-aggressive or neutral at the least - never nice.

He reached a spot on my neck just under my jaw that caused me to flinch away.

“Ow! You’re hurting me,” I complained.

“I know,” he said empathetically. “I’m trying to be gentle. Trust me.”

Once he had eventually rubbed in the salve onto all my burns, I asked, “why are you being so nice to me?”

“It seemed like the honourable thing to do.”

“Ok, but usually you act as if you couldn’t care less what the lost boys do to me.”

He paused from screwing the lid back on the car. “What do the lost boys do to you?” he said slowly, as though afraid of the answer.

“Uh…never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

I could sense Pan’s anger resurfacing.

“You tell me the next time one of them makes you feel threatened or lays a finger on you,” he demanded.

“How come you’re only caring now?” I asked, fiddling with my fingers.

“I’ve always cared about you!,” he exclaimed, shocking me.

“What? Why?”

“Because I love you y/n, that’s why.”

I was stunned. “I’m confused? You never showed any sign of caring before…”

“I didn’t want to admit it to myself, y/n. I thought I could hide my emotions but seeing you hurt today… I can’t let that happen to you.”

“Wow… I’m just surprised… I guess. I thought you didn’t like me…”

Pan got down on one knee, taking one of my hands carefully in his (so as not to hurt where I was burned) and said, “y/n if you’ll be my girlfriend, I’ll treat you like the queen you were always meant to be. That, I promise you.”

I felt myself blushing. I’d never felt wanted by someone like this before. “I’ll be your queen,” I whispered.

He stood up and kissed my lips gingerly.

“I love you.”