sorry for my face i can't fix it

i may or may not have totally tweaked her face lol shh

the barrel of a gun (remind me which side you should be on)

What do you do when the person you’d take a bullet for is behind the trigger? Spencer knows that no amount of hoping could undo everything, but he can’t help but wish for things to have gone differently.

wc: 1175 // gif not mine and try as i might i can’t find who made it rip

The gun feels like dead weight in Spencer’s hands and he’s breathing heavily, trying in vain to quiet down the huffs escaping his lips. His legs feel like lead and, in the back of his mind, he briefly wishes he was as physically fit as the rest of the team because he doubted he could go on any longer. All he wants to do is drop to the ground and go home and forget that he’s on a case, but he knows he can’t.

He wishes he stayed back for this case.

He wishes he alerted the team sooner and he didn’t go running off on his own.

But he didn’t and now, running through the abandoned warehouse, he’s fueled by only adrenaline and a responsibility to do the right thing and he’s not going to give up now. He has to do this. You would have wanted him to do this.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

id love to see some more angsty omega hux stuff. like maybe omega hux has long been bonded to a much older man and finds himself unhappy. in comes alpha and force user kylo ren, working with hux's general mate. basically omega hux pining from (not so) afar?

In another life, Hux knows he could have been a General. He’s confident in his own mind, in his own abilities as a natural strategist. Watching the war from afar, Hux knows that him being at the helm of the First Order like his father wanted him to be would bring the victory that the side so desperately needs.

If only he hadn’t been born an omega.

“Armitage, do try and at least act like you’re paying attention to me.”

Hux looks up from where he sits cross-legged in the middle of his bed to where his alpha stands at the closet, pulling out his formal attire.

“Sorry, sir,“ Hux says, brushing his hair back from his eyes. He sits up, bringing his knees up to his chest. “I’m listening.”

Hux’s movements make the bangles on his wrists and ankles rattle together to make gentle clinking sounds. It’s his outfits that set him apart from any other being on this ship; it’s the red harem pants that split up the sides revealing his pale thighs and calves to the world, its the golden bands around his upper arms and around his neck, its his bare feet, it’s the bite mark on his neck, it’s the fine golden chains that are fastened around his throat and chest every morning by one of the General’s servants, with a pendant of the First Order’s proud symbol in its centre.

Hux doesn’t belong to anything but the First Order, but not in the way he desires.

He wants to be its General.

General Randar rolls his eyes but smiles, approaching the bed, ungloved hand outstretching to tilt Hux’s chin up to him. Hux stares into his pale blue eyes, wishing he could find happiness; they’re mated after all. An omega is supposed to find strength and joy in his alpha’s presence, yet all Hux ever finds is a prison.

“My omega. Always daydreaming,” Randar says, kissing Hux softly on the lips before pulling away and turning back to his clothes. Hux refrains from wiping the excess saliva from his lips. “I was saying, you’ll have to entertain yourself tonight and the majority of tomorrow, my boy. The ship is preparing for the arrival of the Supreme Leader’s most skilled Knight. Kylo Ren, if my memory serves me well. Reckless and ruthless, people say. An alpha like no other.”

Hux feels a chill on his skin at the sound of the new alpha’s name. Kylo Ren. Something resonates within Hux at the name, something deep and something profound.

The bite mark—in the shape of Randar’s teeth—on Hux’s neck begins to itch, as though reminding him that he’s already mated, that Kylo Ren—no matter how alluring—can never be his. Hux feels a new wave of sadness wash over him, making him want to shiver.

“That’s alright. The First Order needs you. I understand.”

Hux shrugs, trying to focus on the man in front of him, the one he’s been bonded to since he was 20, for almost 11 years. Randar had been double Hux’s age when they’d mated, already greying in his early 40’s when Brendol Hux had pushed his bastard son into the open arms of the most powerful man in the First Order’s military, hoping to shed himself of the supposed weak omega.

“My good boy,” Randar says, buttoning up the front of his formal uniform over his bulging belly, brushing his short grey hair back into an orderly appearance. “So good for me. You always have been, haven’t you?”

“I try, sir.”

It’s true, Hux thinks, that he tries to make good things come out of his mating despite every fibre of his being wanting to escape. Randar, despite his age, has always treated Hux fairly well—which is more than he knows befalls other rare omegas in the galaxy—but there’s never been any real feelings for the alpha on Hux’s part. No attraction, no desire to be with him, no need to obey that goes beyond the fear of being punished.

“I know you do, Armitage,” Randar whispers, standing at the foot of the bed in his formal attire, staring down at Hux with a lust in his eye. “Maybe. I should reward you with something before I leave.”

Hux’s breath hitches as his alpha’s hands are suddenly on his knees, spreading his legs open, making him whine.

This is the part he hates the most, having to submit underneath the hand of an alpha he isn’t even attracted to, an alpha he doesn’t respect.

“Sir–you’ll be late,” Hux moans but Randar’s hand has already slipped beneath the waistband of Hux’s baggy pants and, always without undergarments, finds the tip of the omega’s slack cock with ease.

“I can make time for someone who worships me,” Randar coos, climbing inbetween his mate’s spread legs, continuing to fondle him.

Hardly,’ Hux thinks. ’Never.’

Several days later, when General Randar is on duty but due back to their quarters at any moment, Hux lies on their bed, awaiting his imminent return.

He’s adorned his most ravishing of outfits; a gold band sits around his slim waist with a green loincloth hangs from two clips on either of his sharp hips, covering his modesty. He’s replaced his usual golden bangles with cuffs, thicker and sturdier. His alpha prefers the cuffs, he says they suit him better. Hux knows they make him look more like a prisoner.

Chains hang down from his collar, wrapping around his torso in parallel lines, cascading between his ribs and defining his thinness, his lack of muscle, though Hux knows the only muscle that truly matters in this world is his brain.

He lies on his side on the bed, champagne on the table, eyes locked on the door. His alpha should be pleased with the spectacle Hux has created. Maybe if he’s good, Randar will let him onto the bridge to see…to see Kylo Ren.

Before Hux’s thoughts can linger on the new alpha, there comes a heavy knocking on the door, four harsh punches to the metal make Hux jump up, startled. His heart pounds, mind reeling. It’s a possibility that omega hunters have found their way here, ready to steal away the General’s prized pet.

Not without a fight, they’re not.

Hux sits upright on the bed, fists clenched, ready to brawl his way out of here if he has to.

But when the door is forced open, literally, and the angered figure is standing tall and leering in the doorway, all of Hux’s will to fight leaves him.

It’s him. Kylo Ren. The alpha.

Hux can only stare at him, the black-clad and masked man, as he strides angrily into the General’s quarters, breath seemingly distorted through his mask.

“Where is he?” Kylo growls, storming past Hux on the bed and into the fresher.

“Er–The General? He’s on duty. But you can’t just barge in here–”

“I’ll do as I please,” comes the alpha’s quick reply. “He’s a weak-minded old fool who thinks himself the strongest alpha on the ship.”

Hux huffs, sitting back.

“Tell me something I’m not aware of.”

And Kylo seemingly falters, turning back to look at Hux over his shoulder.

“You’re his mate,” Kylo says.


“You’re an omega.”

Hux rolls his eyes. “Again. Obviously.”

He looks up at Kylo, feeling his skin prickling at merely being in his presence. It’s intoxicating, it’s spectacular, and it’s something that Hux has never felt with his mate.

“I’ve never met an omega before,” Kylo says, and Hux imagines him smiling.

“Well, we’re nothing special,” Hux shrugs playfully, standing up off the bed, ensuring that his loin cloth falls perfectly between his legs. He saunters to Kylo, making sure that every beautiful curve of his body is moving, tempting those that can’t have him.

Or so it’s meant to be.

“We’re only the most sought after creatures in the galaxy,” Hux says, running his tongue across his teeth. He stands chest-to-chest with Kylo, absently admiring the thickness of the alpha’s body. “Rarer than the five-leaf clovers of Altaria, rarer than the rainbows of Jakku. And I’m already claimed. Forbidden.”

Hux slides his fingertip up the centre of Kylo’s chest, imagining the shape of his pecs underneath his layers of robe.

Kylo groans through his mask, making a purely animalistic sound that awakens something dormant in the pit of Hux’s stomach. The alpha’s hands are suddenly moving, and Hux’s breath hitches, thinking that he’s going to be touched by one that he craves for one, but Kylo’s hands reach up to his mask. The clasps hiss as they’re unlocked, and Hux gasps when the alpha’s face is revealed.

He’s young, strong, and Hux knows its love.

“Master Ren…I–” Hux finds himself speechless. Instead, he reaches up to caress the alpha’s cheek, counting every freckle and mole on his face, wishing that the alpha would make marks of his own on Hux’s milky flesh.

“Ssh,” Kylo says, grabbing Hux’s wrist, bringing his knuckles to his lips. “Please. Call me Kylo.”

Hux melts, feels his insides shatter into pieces that want to be fixed by this alpha’s hands.

Kylo’s lips are impossibly soft.

And Hux is impossibly lost.

Land Next to Me: Chapter Two

A/N: Thanks to @cupcakecana and @x-benihime for being amazing and giving me feedback/editing this for me!! <3

Enjoy Natsu’s POV of chapter 1, which is mostly to establish his world!

(won’t be posting on for a while because I ran into computer issues-i.e., I spilled water on it and it is fried)

Translations at the bottom for Trigedasleng 

Fandom: Fairy Tail/the 100

Rated: T

Words: 3120

Pairing: Nalu

Characters: Natsu, Gajeel, Acnologia, Sting, Levy- mentions of others

Summary: Three hundred years since the human race has set foot on Earth, one hundred teen prisoners are sent down with nothing but their wits. Even though she’s just as scared as everyone else, Lucy Heartfilia will do anything she can to make sure they survive.

<<prev         next>>

Chapter 2: Down Here, Weakness is Death, Fear is Death

“What the hell?”

Fire blazed in the sky, bright and blinding as it descended, moving closer and closer to the ground.  Natsu’s eyes fixed on it, at first thinking it was a star, but the closer it got, the less likely it became.

A large group gathered, surrounding Natsu, all looking up at the sky. The younger children muttered to each other about it being a falling star, just like he’d thought it was, but those who were older knew better.

This was dangerous.

A heavy weight settled in the pit of Natsu’s stomach, fear of the unknown creeping up on him.

Vieda.” Natsu tensed at the familiar voice and his back straightened as he turned to face Acnologia.

Natsu looked up at him. “Chief?”

“They’re from the sky—Skaikru. They are not welcome here.” A shiver ran down Natsu’s spine at Acnologia’s menacing expression and he nodded at the chief’s words as he hid his anxiety.

A new clan.


The unfamiliar word sounded strange in his mind.

Even if there were people falling from the sky, they wouldn’t last long if Acnologia’s expression was anything to go by.

He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t want to believe it.  

The legends had spoke of those from centuries past who’d travelled to the sky, but he thought they would all be dead by now. It was inevitable. How would they grow food, or even get water? They were in space, where there was nothing but stars and the moon.

Besides, even if there were people coming down, those flames would’ve surely engulfed them.

“Come,” Acnologia barked. He strode to the main war hut and paused at the entrance, looking back. “Gajeel!”

“What?” It was muffled. From the other side of the hut.
“Did you get everyone?”


“Well hurry the fuck up. Get the council members. We gotta figure out our defense. Go now.” With that, their Chief disappeared inside.

Reluctantly, Natsu made his way over, Sting sidling up next to him. He quirked a curious eyebrow at the blond, earning a mere shrug from him.

It was clear to him that Sting also had his doubts. He’d never been as good as Natsu at hiding his feelings.  

Natsu kept his face neutral and shoulders pushed back as he entered the hut. If he wanted to stay alive, he couldn’t let his guard down. Not around their chief.

Being part of the chief’s personal guard was never in Natsu’s plans, yet here he was, thanks to being a protective idiot. He never would’ve volunteered if he’d thought there was any other way to protect Romeo or one of the other kids from being selected.

Taking his seat at the round table, Natsu glanced to the rest of the room—Laxus and Cobra on either side of Acnologia, Sting and Rogue beside Cobra.

He narrowed his eyes at Gajeel who sat beside him, cool air following him from the outside. His obvious pleasure at being back here once again written all over his face, no doubt aching to kill.


Not to say that Natsu didn’t love a good fight himself. He just didn’t like killing for pleasure like the others seemed to.

“The legends spoke of the sky people and how one day they would return,” Acnologia stood, expression hard yet manic. “I cannot predict where their ship will land, but if they come into our territory,” he gazed at each other them, grin turning sadistic as his eyes landed on Natsu, “frag emo op.”

Natsu heard Gajeel let out a grunt of agreement, saw Cobra’s smirk and the coldness in Acnologia’s eyes, and made a vow to himself.

He would kill Acnologia, whatever it took.

The Chief assigned positions. Cobra and Laxus would cover the North and South, respectively, Sting and Rogue the East, Natsu and Gajeel the West. Natsu tuned out the rest. He didn’t care about strategies or whatever else they were discussing.

Shuffling pulled Natsu from his thoughts as everyone stood and headed out of the hut, excitement and bloodlust clinging to them. It had been quiet recently, with the new Commander’s coalition, not many opportunities for blood to have blood.

The needless wars and senseless killing had stopped for the most part. Natsu had been able to spend more time with Romeo and the other children, grateful to keep them from the danger the other krus could be, and teach them to how defend themselves—not only physically but mentally.

Never show weakness. He told them, fiercely. Weakness is death. Fear is death. Don’t show your fear.

“Let’s go, Salamander.” The gruff sound of his reluctant partner broke him away from his thoughts. He turned to face Gajeel, and with a nod, grabbed his bow and arrows. He followed Gajeel to the trees, the pair moving quickly and quietly as they approached their border near the mountain, neither saying anything.

They never really got along, though Natsu didn’t get along well with any of the guard for that matter. They enjoyed killing, he didn’t. It was as simple as that. If tolerated any of them, it was Sting and Rogue—mostly because he’d helped teach them to fight, and they knew when to spare a life.

The duo perched themselves up in the trees, facing the lake, waiting for the so-called ‘Skaikru’ to approach. Natsu still doubted that anyone could survive the fall on a flaming fireball. It could just be a falling star like he initially thought—even if that didn’t make much sense either—besides, if there had been people in the sky for all these years, why come down now?

“This is pointless,” Natsu grumbled as he adjusted his quiver. They would be stuck in this spot for days before Acnologia would send for them once he realized there were no invaders.

At least, Natsu hoped that was the case. If there really were sky people, they wouldn’t know about the boundaries or the kill order, and Natsu would be forced to kill innocent people in order to save himself.

He had to figure a way out of this.

“It’s the chief’s command, don’t complain.” Gajeel spared him a single glance as he surveyed the land in front of them. “Unless you’d rather step down from the guard?”

Natsu saw him smirk. Gajeel knew the answer already. The day Natsu stepped down from the guard was the day Natsu died. He would never let someone take his place and have them be subjected to Acnologia’s reign. It was his burden to bear.

Protect those who cannot protect themselves, Natsu. Don’t be afraid.

He wasn’t sure what Igneel would think if he saw him now. He hoped that he’d be proud.

Voices drifted over from across the river.

Voices speaking english.

His pulse quickened and his gaze darted to Gajeel, fists clenched at the ever-expanding grin on his partner’s face. He saw Gajeel’s grip on the spear tighten, poised to attack, aching to launch it.

“Only if they cross, Gajeel,” Natsu spoke low, not wanting to draw attention to themselves. He couldn’t see the people yet, but he knew they were there, and they were most likely not Trigedakru.

“Yeah, yeah,” Gajeel waved him off, branch beneath him bending dangerously as he practically bounced on his heels.

A predatory grin warped his face.

Scowling, Natsu readied his bow and tried to figure a way out of this. He could only pray they didn’t cross the river.

The group appeared from the woods dressed in strange clothes and, from what he could tell, weaponless.

He frowned and slackened his grip on his bow, curious. He couldn’t understand why they’d wander this far from their crash site, if it was indeed Skaikru, and without weapons at that.

“Gajeel,” he stated, hooking his bow over his head, string across his chest, “these people aren’t dangerous. They don’t even have weapons.”

“Your point?” Gajeel scowled and his eyes narrowed, not bothering to spare Natsu a glance.

“Wouldn’t it be better to question them? Ask them why they’re here?” He was grasping at straws—a lost cause, and he knew it. Gajeel knew it too.

“The chief told us to kill ‘em if they cross, so if they cross I’m gonna kill ‘em. End of story.”

Natsu sighed and turned to the odd looking group. They were young, two girls and three boys, probably around his own age. They were discussing something, looking at a big piece of…something with markings on it. What was it? They were pointing to it and then looking up and around. What were they doing? Maybe he could get a closer look—

His heart clenched at that. He and Gajeel were here to kill them. They couldn’t come closer. They needed to leave.

There was a loud exclamation from the orange-haired boy as he ripped the…thing…from the blue-haired girl. The rest of them looked worried. Uneasy.

Hope bloomed in his chest for a moment.

But then the white thing was tucked away, Skaikru’s faces changed from worry to resolve, and Natsu held his breath.

They’d found the old bridge, a path that Natsu and the rest of the clan used to cross the river when they were hunting or when the kids wanted to explore. Natsu chewed his lip, hoping they’d be too scared to cross. But then the blue haired girl stepped in the water, and Natsu could practically smell the smugness coming from Gajeel.

He let out a shaky breath, dread running cold in his veins as he watched the young, innocent, ignorant, girl practically skip across the water, distantly hearing someone call her name. Levy.

Two of the boys followed.

And then the blonde hurried out, and Natsu could see the desperation on her face—the worry.

A lump settled in his throat. Constricting Heavy. He wanted to scream at them to get. Back.

She stepped out of the water and onto the land—their land—with a wide grin from her apparent success. Natsu whipped to look at Gajeel’s readied arm and lust for blood in One.

Levy turned to her friends, smile only growing.


Gajeel’s left arm extended to aim, the other bent, readying to release.


Gajeel launched the spear. A perfect throw. Straight for the girl. No curve.

He knew without a doubt it’d hit it’s mark.

A scream and a frozen smile. Eyed wide. Shocked and empty. Forever etched into his mind. His heart plummeted. His stomach churned, horrified at Gajeel and what he had done.

He saw the rest of the group try to get to her, but the orange-haired one stopped them. It looked like he was in physical pain to have to do so.
With how the blonde was digging her nails into him, he wouldn’t be surprised if he was.

And then Gajeel threw another spear.

He missed his target by an inch.

Anger roiled in Natsu. He had to stop this.

“Fuck.” He growled, unable to contain himself anymore. He leapt from the tree and he grabbed Gajeel by his ankle, yanking him down from his own branch. Gajeel reeled back, whirling on Natsu, his third spear now angled at him.

“What the fuck, Natsu!”

Natsu didn’t care. He shoved the point out of his face and yanked the spear away from Gajeel. “This is wrong, Gajeel. They’re defenceless.”

He quickly grabbed an arrow from his quiver and shot it out to the water.

A warning.

Though, he hoped at this point the message was already clear to the group.

They needed to get the fuck out.

His hands clenched as he looked back to Gajeel.

Gajeel was pissed.

And Natsu knew he was about to make it worse, but he didn’t give a flying fuck at the moment.

“You should be proud.” He made the hatred clear in his snarled words, spitting them at the black-haired male. “You’re turning into our Great Chief. Maybe someday you’ll kill someone’s innocent father as they beg you for mercy, just like he did.”

He’d struck a chord with Gajeel, he knew. He didn’t need to see the flicker of regret interrupt his gratified, murderous expression.

But then it was gone and Gajeel was advancing on him.

Natrona.” Gajeel spat, fist flying towards Natsu. The hit struck his jaw, his head snapping to the side, body twisting with it from the force.

He could already feel the bruise forming and metal rolling over his tongue.

He stood, shocked for a moment, before spitting at the ground and turning to look at Gajeel, tongue poking the inside of his cheek in frustration.

Natsu stayed expressionless, no pain or fear, as he met Gajeel’s glare head on.

“I may be a traitor, but at least I’m not a mindless follower of a dictator. You know these people aren’t dangerous. You know they’re innocent.” He squared his shoulders and ignored the throbbing in his jaw.

“They’re Skaikru, Salamander,” Gajeel argued, hand flying to the sky, “they’ve been living in the stars! They ain’t fucking innocent and I’m gonna prove it.” He turned his back on Natsu, took a few steps, then stopped, looking over his shoulder.

“Though I doubt you’ll still be alive to see I’m right,” he spat, letting out a humourless laugh before taking off in the direction of their home, not once looking back.

Natsu never expected anything less from Gajeel.

He turned to face Levy, absently scratched at his face, and winced.

He really was an idiot sometimes.

So much for never stepping down, he thought, frustrated.

But he couldn’t have stopped himself.

These people were helpless, their knowledge of this world limited, as was his of theirs. They didn’t know any better. That didn’t mean they should be killed for it.

He turned back to the water just as they disappeared into the safety of the trees.

Good, he thought, flee.

He looked around, spotted some comfrey plants, and grabbed a few on his way to the girl. Gajeel was a good shot, but he’d been a fair distance away when he’d thrown the spear. With any luck it wouldn’t have gone all the way through and she’d still stand a chance.

He dropped to his knees next to her, taking care to not pull out the spear as he moved his hand under her small body. He sighed in relief as he felt only clammy skin, no trace of the spear or blood. He lay her back down, double checking for blood on his fingers, before he moved to her wrist to check for a pulse. It was faint, but it was there.

He couldn’t believe it.

With a quick prayer to Pramheda, Natsu gripped the spear around and took a deep breath before he pulling it straight out, quickly and carefully.

He heard a sharp intake of breath followed by a pained groan, and his head snapped to her face. He froze for a brief moment at the sight of her eyes open, the terror in them unnerving. Her lip quivered, tears falling from her eyes in silent horror, the pain too much for her to speak.      

“It’s okay,” he reassured—in english—dropping the spear and reaching for her hand. He worked quickly, pressing leaves into the wound, giving her hand a gentle squeeze at her soft whimper. “I’m Natsu kom Trigeda. I’m here to help.” She barely reacted, either confused at the use of Trigedasleng, or she just wasn’t processing his words. She was scared and in pain, and he was going to do his best to help her.  

He placed pressure on her wound to stop the bleeding..

He bit his lip, worried.

He couldn’t move her on his own, not without risking her injury getting worse, and he didn’t want to leave her in case she wasn’t there when he returned.

He wasn’t just worried about the wild animals.

He watched as the girl’s eyes closed and muscles went slack. Though he felt slightly guilty, he was grateful she wouldn’t be awake and in pain. He could’ve taken on Gajeel and stopped this.

But he had been a coward.

He could leave her, go back home and deny Gajeel’s accusations, which he knew Gajeel was making to Acnologia. He could say he just wanted to make sure the girl was dead, but nobody would buy it. Even if it were the truth, Acnologia was looking for a fight. He was looking for blood. He wouldn’t want Natsu to be innocent.

Natsu ran his hands through his hair, frustrated. He couldn’t think properly. He needed to figure something out. He needed to survive. He’d been doing it all his life. It was the one thing he was good at. So what was he supposed to do?

Protect those who cannot protect themselves, Natsu.

Igneel’s words always crept back. He knew what the right thing to do was.

But how was he supposed to do it?

With a deep breath, Natsu tried to calm his racing thoughts. There was a logical solution to this.

He spotted his quiver and he grabbed it, ripping the cloth he kept tied around it and wrapping it around her small frame to cover the wound best he could to apply a bit of extra pressure to it.

Natsu didn’t typically work with the healers—he only knew the basics in case he got hurt and was by himself—but he couldn’t help but feel a bit proud of his handy work. In any other case he would just go see Porlyusica for help. That wasn’t an option at the moment though…obviously.

He slung his quiver with its remaining arrows over his shoulder as he tugged lightly on the makeshift bandage to make sure it would hold. When it did, he slid his hands under the girl and hoisted her up in his arms.

He could only hope that he would be able to hold the injury steady long enough to get her somewhere safe.

He adjusted his hold, making sure she was secure, and looked out at the lake in front of him. He was doing the right thing.


If he didn’t bring the girl to them, she would probably die. He couldn’t count on the others coming back for her, and it felt wrong to just leave her.

But thoughts of his friends and the kids from home plagued his mind. He couldn’t leave them. Some of them didn’t have parents anymore. He’d be abandoning them.

Maybe he could go back after bringing the girl back. He could talk to Acnologia, could beg him to believe him.

Taking a deep breath, Natsu took a step forward, foot hitting the water.

He could only hope he wouldn’t regret this.  


Vieda (vay-da)–> Invaders
Trigeda (tree-ged-duh)–> Woods Clan
Skaikru (sky-crew)–> Sky people
Frag emo op (fe-rag em-oh ah-p) → Kill them all
Trigedakru (tree-ged-duh-crew )–> People of the woods clan
Natrona (na-trunna) → Traitor
Pramheda (präm-head-da) → First commander
Kom (come) → From/of the

I started drawing this two nights ago as a combination of needing to draw fucked-up Jean and wanting to draw Droplets fanart. By a complete coincidence rainbowd00dles drew the exact same scene except 500% better, though, so now I just feel silly posting this, haha. ;;;

Oh well. Can never have too many fucked up Jeans on your dash. P:


this is a lackluster post but i wanted to have her face here since i sort of fixed it.. ref shit. 

i’m trying to get back into my writing so if i disappear for a while (or forever.. whoaoaoaoaooao) then you know why.

  • "Baby, that's just me."
  • "Somewhere we went wrong."
  • "I won't forget about us."
  • "You've got me smiling in my sleep."
  • "I'm terrified of what you do."
  • "For the first time in my life I know it's real."
  • "I can't make you feel what you don't feel."
  • "There's so much you need to know."
  • "I can't wait for you to understand."
  • "I don't know how to fix the pain."
  • "We're out of time."
  • "You've got a face for a smile."
  • "Maybe you'll call me someday."
  • "I promise you today I'll wait."
  • "You're not sorry."
  • "I don't fall easy often."
  • "We'll stay up all night long."
  • "I want you and I want you bad."
  • "Tonight I'm letting go."
  • "Gonna give you every little piece of me."
  • "I only want the best for you."
  • "You didn't have the will to fight."
  • "You must be a miracle worker."
  • "You told me you'd never fall in love."
  • "Baby, try to understand."
  • "Give your heart a break."
  • "When it comes to you, I'm never good enough."
  • "You make me wanna act like a girl."
  • "Pain's more trouble than love is worth."
  • "I'd rather be numb."
  • "You'll be coming home with me tonight."
  • "I can't sleep tonight."
  • "You could be my sanity."
  • 'I don't know what I'd do without you."
  • "One day I'll have to let it all go."
  • "I never want you back in my life."
  • "You can take your words and all your lies."
  • "I really don't care."
  • "Maybe you shouldn't come back."
  • "I hate you, don't leave me."

anonymous asked:

now what if one of bruce's kids was de-aged to a very small child approximately how much would he try not to be awkward but also can't help being super protective and loving and spoiling the heck out of them because *bruce*


Bruce spun around, the sneering scientist still pinned up against the wall as his eyes searched for the child that had just called out his name. He froze as he saw the girl kneeling on the ground, practically drowning in the black cape, a mask hanging loosely over her small face… The unmistakable yellow outline of a bat across her chest. She was clutching a syringe now half-filled with a strange blue-tinged liquid, staring at it, holding her left arm in pain as her breathing grew thicker.

‘…Cassandra?’ he breathed in disbelief, forgetting all protocol surrounding secret-identities. 

Batgirl looked up at him in horror; her large black eyes, filled with helpless confusion, meeting his own. 

It is Cassandra. 

Bruce turned back on the scientist, a deep scowl forming across his face as his grip tightened. ‘What have you done to her?’ he demanded, his voice rough and dangerous.

The scientist laughed. ‘Only de-aged her by about, oh, ten years or so I would wager?’ he chortled. ‘I am pleased to see that it was a success. Some of the other patients weren’t so lucky—’ 

He cried out as he was slammed down to the ground, knocking the air out of his chest. Batman stood over him menacingly, his whole posture a warning of the lengths he was willing to go to make the scientist talk. ‘Tell me how to fix this,’ he growled. ‘Where is the antidote?’

‘Now, now, Batman,’ he wheezed with a wicked grin. ‘You assume too much. There is no antidote. If you want to fix this you’ll have to do it on your own. But… I believe you have more pressing matters now?’

Bruce saw the henchmen out of the corner of his eye, guns raised towards the girl, advancing on her. 

Normally, they would have already been taken out. Normally, this wouldn’t have been a problem. Normally, Cassandra wasn’t eight years old and stuck in her now oversized suit. 

Bruce cursed under his breath and, leaving the scientist on the ground, pummelled into the gunners before they could shoot. He then ran towards the girl, scooping her small body up in his arms and bolting towards the batmobile as the gunmen fired after them into the night…

They rode home in silence, Cassandra staring at her tiny hands, Bruce fixing his eyes on the road, too distressed and unhinged to say anything to each other. They drove into the batcave and sat there in the car for a moment, Bruce grasping awkwardly for something to say, anything, to reassure her that it would be alright, that they would figure this out. 

‘I… I’ll fix this, Cassandra.’

The girl looked up at him, and for a moment it actually looked as if she would cry. ‘How?’ she asked in a small voice, her hands trembling. 

Instinctively, Bruce reached out and took her hands in his. ‘I will fix this,’ he repeated, trying to convince them both.

Cassandra looked at herself in the mirror, wearing some of Dick’s old clothes from when he was a child, still a little too big on her, and felt the panic rise within her chest. Images of herself as a child, training with her father, doing as she was told, obedient, unflinching… all of it resurfaced, filling her mind with the painful memories. She clawed at her face, the fear burning through her until she could take it no more. 

She shattered the mirror with one swift kick. 

She came down into the batcave to find Batman still in his suit, typing furiously on the computer and running diagnostics on the blue liquid that had been injected into her body. Bruce had done all the initial tests: taking a blood sample, carrying out a full body scan, checking all of her vital signs to be absolutely certain that she was safe from harm, if physically ten years younger. But from his expression, Cassandra could tell that it was all in vain.

‘Let me go after him,’ the eight-year-old said.

Bruce turned away from the computer and started in spite of himself. He too, remembered that girl from the video, the innocent smile that had crossed her face mere moments before she had killed a man. But he also saw Dick standing in front of him as a young boy, swearing that he would fight to make sure no one else had to go through the pain of losing their parents. They were both so young. Too young.

‘No, Cassandra,’ he said, forcing himself to turn back to the computer. ‘Until we know exactly what it is you’ve been injected with, I can’t let you leave the manor.’

‘I can fight.’

‘It’s out of the question,’ Bruce said firmly, unwilling to look her in the eye. Unwilling to let any more harm come to her tonight.    

‘My mind is… the same,’ Cassandra pressed. She walked up to Bruce and lay a hand on his arm, her small voice pleading. ‘I’ve been fighting since I was  young.’

‘He said there was no antidote.’

‘He could be lying.’

Bruce sat there in grim silence, not wanting to face the facts. He had analysed the contents of the syringe but a cure didn’t look promising. The medicine was so advanced he had no idea where to even start. He knew she was probably right: that the scientist had likely just been buying time for himself and had the antidote hidden away somewhere. 

He couldn’t call for backup; Tim, Nightwing, even Spoiler… they were all busy tonight. It was just him and Batgirl. And he knew that she would never listen to him if he told her to stay put. So he came up with the best excuse he could think of in that moment:

‘Your… suit. It doesn’t fit you anymore.’

Cassandra flashed him a devilish smile, turning her gaze on one of the many display cases that lined the wall of the batcave. Bruce followed her gaze then turned back immediately, pointing a finger at her. 


Bruce sighed, massaging his forehead as the girl dashed in front of him: an all-too-familiar blur of red and green and yellow. He damned himself inwardly for letting her talk him into this, but was hard-pressed to think of a time he had seen Cassandra so excited. The four-foot girl laughed, actually laughed deliriously as she flew above the Gotham skyline, her yellow cape and short black hair whipping behind her in the wind. And Bruce felt the mixed surge of overprotectiveness and amusement he had experienced so often in the early days with Robin, course through his body.

I’m getting too old for this, he thought, his heart skipping a beat as he watched the eight-year-old perch precariously on the edge of a ten-story building. At least Tim had been fourteen. What was I thinking with Dick? 

Batgir— Robin. Don’t… stand so close to the edge,’ he said, his nerves getting the better of him. It felt odd calling her by that name, but she was wearing the uniform.

Cassandra looked back at him. ‘Sorry. Dad,’ she said, her tone dripping with practiced sarcasm. 

Oh no. Bruce thought, his heart exploding inside his chest, all other thoughts receding from his mind as Cass smiled at him. The only thing he knew for certain in that moment was that he would do anything to protect this girl. 

‘Cassandra, please,’ he said, eyeing the edge of the roof. ‘I know you’re technically the same age but…’ he stopped, grasping for words as the girl peered at him curiously. Damn it. 

‘—But… you can’t help worrying?’ Cassandra finished for him. 


She stood back from the edge then, her smile fading with the sudden realisation that Bruce hadn’t been doubting her abilities when he had asked her to stay at the manor. He had been worried about her. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised, but somehow, that simple realisation broke something in her. The idea that someone would care for her as a child, worry for her safety, be determined to protect her… instead of using her for her skills. Instead of throwing knives at her back and shooting her to raise her pain-tolerance. Instead of only showing affection when she had performed admirably. 

But Bruce didn’t need her to do anything, except be safe. 

The tears began to roll down her cheeks, over the green mask, falling soundlessly on the “R” that was fixed to her chest. 

Bruce had no idea what was going on. All he saw was an eight-year-old child crying in front of him. All he saw was Cassandra. Crying. And his body moved without thinking. 

He pulled Cassandra’s small body into a hug and she lay her head against Batman’s chest. Crying for the childhood trauma, the father she had never had, the guilt she had carried with her all these years… Things she thought she had gotten over, thought she had moved past. 

Bruce held her as the tears slid silently down her face, and whispered three gentle words into her ear. 

Everyone assumed that ‘more than words’ was the way to show affection to Cassandra. After all, she had gone most of her life speaking only in movement, in gestures. But what they didn’t understand was, now that she understood, now that she spoke, words had more power and impact over her than even she knew. It was a means of expression she had been denied as a child, there had been no need for it. No need to use words with her biological father, the man that had so ruthlessly trained her as an assassin. .

Bruce was a man of few words, but that only meant there was more weight put on whatever he said. That he really meant it, from the bottom of his heart. And those three words whispered to his daughter as they stood on the roof of a building, meant the world to Cass.

‘It’s not so bad… being a child,’ Cass joked, her voice breaking slightly.

‘I don’t think Tim would be too happy, being replaced as Robin.’ Cassandra laughed, and Bruce felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. He pulled away from her gently and wiped one of the tears out of her eye. 

‘Let’s go find a way to fix this,’ he said.

HA. Sorry Anon! I started writing and got CARRIED AWAY as I always do. Thought it would be fun to write Cass being de-aged and kind of having to face the trauma of her childhood again. As well as Bruce going into concerned parent mode because MY SMOL DAUGHTER MUST BE PROTECTED but like he knows she could kick everyone’s ass even as an eight-year-old. Also, the mere thought of Cass wearing Dick’s original Robin suit melted my weak heart, so I knew I had to write it in… ;)

Thank you for the prompt! Feel free to send me more you guys… i must procrastinate MORE.


Thanisson’s Sweet Sixteen continues.

I think we all know where this is going ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Edit: whoops I forgot the FO symbols on the cake. Fixed it.

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3

Day In The Life (Day 3)

Originally posted by metal-armed-jesus

Read The Day Before

Pairing: Roomate!Bucky x Your Writer

           It was another one of those days.

           I would wake up expecting Bucky to be in the shower, while I go and bumble about the kitchen, fixing together breakfast for the both of us. Yet, today I understood was another one of those days. He doesn’t have them often, but when he does I know to expect to hardly see him that day.

           I woke up to hear the shower off and his bedroom door shut, and I had felt my heart kind of sink at the realization. I made the usual bowl of cereal and ate in silence, focusing on my inner thoughts as my spoon scraped against the bowl. Then, I got up and put the bowl in the sink, letting the water rinse the milk out.

           I made my way back down the hall and past Bucky’s room. I got ready for the day and plopped on the couch, allowing the TV to run as background noise, while I wrote. By the time late afternoon rolled around without a trace of the large, metal-armed man, I felt the need to do something. I shut my laptop and got into the kitchen, silently making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

           Grasping the plate, I slowly made my way to his room. I gently rapped my knuckles against the door, before opening the unlocked door. The room was dark with the blinds tightly shut and I saw his large dark silhouette sprawled on the bed. I didn’t say a word as I set the plate on his nightstand, before turning and making my way back to the door.

           His deep, quiet voice broke the silence. “Wait.”

           I paused, my hand resting on the doorknob, before I slowly turned to see his head turned towards me. His eyes glistened in the dark of the room and his face was taught with difficult emotions. His gaze held strong to his fear, yet they also held a yearning. I slightly nodded my head, before padding over to the bed. Then, I slowly slid next to Bucky, keeping a reasonable distance, but close enough to offer him comfort.

           I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath, allowing myself to relax, and focus on nothing. I then listened to the steady, quiet sound of Bucky’s breathing, and found myself drifting off. The cold brush of metal against my fingers made me slightly snap out of it, I slightly lifted my right hand, and Bucky slid his hand into mine. My hand grew cold after awhile, but it didn’t bother me as I gripped his hand.

           He whispered, “I remembered something last night.”

           My interest piqued and I squeezed his metal fingers tightly, letting him know that I was listening. He had told me once that he couldn’t exactly feel anything through his metal arm, but if you applied a certain amount of pressure, he could sense it. So, I made sure to always squeeze his hand tight. Even, now.

           Bucky then continued, “I remember a mission. Back, when I was with the Howling Commandos. We infiltrated a—” He paused, and I heard him swallow thickly.

           I then lifted myself to where I could rest my head against where his shoulder met his torso. I could feel the hard, uncomfortable feeling of his metal arm through his shirt, but I paid no mind as I turned my head and nuzzled into his shirt. I breathed in his familiar scent and rested my hand on his stomach, lightly running the pads of my fingers over the soft fabric of his shirt. He rest his arm around me, allowing his hand to rest on the curve of my side.

           He let out a deep breath and he relaxed beneath me, before he began again, “We infiltrated HYDRA camp in Belgium. It was another successful mission, but I remember coming across a hidden entry, and I went down a flight of stairs. I—I saw a torture chamber. They had people chained to the walls, and they were all dead. It was as if someone went down there and shot them all, as if trying to let all their secrets die with them, and I was horrified…”

           Bucky drifted off, his breath shaky as he fought the onslaught of emotions and memories. He had tensed beneath me again, and I looked up at his pained features. His eyes were screwed shut, and his jaw was clenched. I held so much sympathy for him, and I grasped his shirt with my fingers.

           “It’s okay, James.” I whispered, “You know you don’t have to tell me.”

           “No, it helps when I tell you.” Bucky turned his head to look at me, and I had my eyes closed. His fingers gently squeezed my side, and a soft smile came across my face. He said, “You’ve always helped me…”

           I mumbled, “I only do what I can.”

           “Okay, I think I can tell you the rest.” Bucky took a deep breath, “They were all hardly clothed and so skinny. A few still had healing flesh wounds that were just crawling with flies. I wanted to throw up. And when Steve found me… He took me out of there as fast as he could, but I couldn’t get the image out of my head. I wished we had gotten there earlier. I wished we could’ve saved them…”

           I slid my hand up his chest, before lifting my head, and brushing a few strands of hair out of his face. His eyes were glazed over and held so much pain that I had to grasp his cheek to snap him out of it. Bucky’s gaze flickered to me and I offered a kind, reassuring smile. The edges of his lips slightly curled up, but I understood what he was going through. He was carrying this immensely heavy burden on his shoulders, all of it would rip a man apart, and yet he still held strong. Bucky still managed to smile at the end of the day, and I only hoped that I could help alleviate some of the pain.

           I smoothed my fingers over his brow, and his face lost all worry. I smiled at him, “You are a good man, Buck. An amazing, kind, funny, and wonderful person. I care about you, Bucky. And I will always be here for you, and I need you to know that…”

           Bucky gave me a thankful look, before I bent my head, and pressed my lips against his forehead. I pulled away and sat up, his hand slid off my side, and he couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face. I got off the bed and fixed my shirt, before I grabbed the plate and handed it to Bucky.

           “Now, please eat. You are a very large man that needs to keep his stomach full.”

           Bucky grabbed the sandwich and took a bite, before giving me a thumbs up. “Will do, darling.”

Read Day 4