under the white hood

Retconned: Chapter Three

I don’t own anything but the fanfic!

Toby Fox owns Undertale, Goth @Nekophy, Palette: @angexci . Error/Geno/fresh @loverofpiggies  Reaper:@renrink Retconned Goth… well i own this version. Underswap!Sans by Popcornp1nce.  Dream by @jokublog Cross!Sans and Cross!Chara by @jakei95

The first time Blueberry met Goth, he thought Error had kidnapped a new victim. The small eternal child had thought it was hilarious when Blue had grabbed him and tried to escape.

Goth would admit his humour was a bit twisted after living with Error.

“Wow, if you hadn’t shown me your house i would have never have found it in my wondering,” Blueberry said as he wondered the small cozy house smack dab in the anti-void.

Of course Blueberry’s stomach rumbled as this time he’d been kidnapped just before lunch.

“The kitchens this way,” Goth grinned.

Of course the always energetic Blueberry Sans, quickly noticed certain missing supplies.

“Where’s you taco supplies?” he asked.

“Ah… I haven’t learned to make those yet, but I might have the things needed in the basement food storage,” Goth said thoughtful.

‘No taco supplies… sacrilege’ Blueberry thought.

“Wait… how does a house in the anti-void have a basement?” he asked, after all how would one dig through nothing to build it and not see it from the outside.

“Why wouldn’t it?” Goth asked totally innocently.

Goth only caused the kitchen to burn once.

Then Cross appeared and stole all the tacos.


“Blue.. are you in?” a voice asked, the small Sans blinked as he recognized the voice.

“Come on in Dream, I was only about to make dinner,” Blues called, moments later Dream entered the kitchen a small frown on his face.

“Um… I have some questions about Error, we all had an interesting confrontation with him,” Dream said.

“Error huh, been three months since the last kidnapping… have a few more till the next one, Blues said frowning, sighing he turned off the stove knowing this might take awhile.

“Wait… you have kidnapping scheduled?” Dream said wide eyed at him.

“Only for the last five years, easier for no one to be killed and to see Gothy,” Blues said cheerfully.

“Would… Gothy… be a small skeleton kid that looks a lot like Geno and Reaper with a scythe and can travel in the anti-void?” Dream asked.

“Yeah, didn’t you know. Goth’s been living in the anti-void for years. Error’s really protective about him, since leaving the anti-void too long will kill him,” Blues said, really Goth was such a sweet shy kid… he just wished Goth could chance leaving the void often.

“Die?” Dream said surprised.

Blues looked down at the floor for a moment, he didn’t know what had happened to Goth to make him end up pretty much trapped there to survive… and from the look on Error’s face that day when he started to ask.. he had decided h didn’t want to know.

“Its, not for me to say. Ask Goth,” Blue said, then turned on the stove and proceeded to ignore his friend… sometimes it was best to have some secrets.


A slightly tired Goth yawned and rapped a wondering hand away from his dinner, he glared at Cross who was pouting at the taco’s.

“Come on Cross, go make your own food… this is why I can never make Taco’s anymore,” Goth said glaring, his form shifted to fell his self more prone to violence.

“Aw come on… just one, i even got a gift for you,” Cross bribed.

-Hey! I picked them out- the every ghostly Cross!Chara protested, Goth suppressed a shiver wishing once again he hadn’t gained the ability to see the other part of Cross. Chara of course thought it sweet, after all ne had someone else other then Cross to tease.

“Gifts,” Goth said form shifting to Canon Goths form, he absently pushed two Taco’s to the other skeleton and happily received a wrapped box.

“Ohhhh!” Goth said opening it, new clothing that didn’t match anything any of his selves had ever worn.

“Be right back!” Goth said and raced to his room to try it on.

Cross grabbed the rest of the Taco’s happily.


Goth liked the clothing even if how every different they looked from what he always wore, but eh supposed that something different was the point. His scarf was still around his neck but tucked under a white hood shawl combo with a golden orb/disk dangling down the front.

His shirt underneath was a very very light grey that tucked into large fingerless gloved with red ribbons around part of it and handing off them. Pants were white and tucked into white boots with yellow-gold edged tops and a small gold disk on the front of them.

‘Could use more Black’ Goth thought, after all he’d been wearing black since his uncle dressed him that day.

The clothing felt weird against his bones, and if it wasn’t for the red and gold bits he could probably almost blend into the antivoid.

“Whats this..” he said spotting something under where the clothing had been gold in colour… and glowing?

Quickly he grabbed it up and stared, it was a lantern and in its centre glowing was a save point.

How the heck did Cross get a save point?


Youth in Rebellion (working title/au

hey everyone Mr.E here back from month long break. I didn’t mean to be gone so long but i realized after writing for 2 years, that despite the fact there were moments i didn’t write for periods of time, I never actually took a real break from writing and while I didn’t mean to miss Starco week (and I’m trying to catch up) i think i needed it. so I’m back, almost done with the bad boy au. but first I needed to get this out of my head.

So I am a huge fan of the whole gentleman thief archetype. Katio Kid or the Phantom thief kid is my favorite anime character of all time and any time he comes out, it’s always my favorite episode. 

The second half to this idea was the fact one of my favorite game series Persona has finally released the 5th game *i waited 9 years people and no persona Q doesn’t really count * and what do you know it’s all about thieves doing good. 

So I’m hooked but i’m fusing the two concepts because I am not even going to try to explain persona (and it’s a rated M game so yeah) I decided to simplify it.

So in this AU, Connor is a new student who finds an ancient mask that grants him supernatural powers. He decides to rob and teach lessons to those who abuse their power and their positions. Marco is a private Investigator asked to look into this sudden rash of thefts and Nova is suspecting Connor. (they are not friends in this version)

So here’s a small preview. I’m still working things out but i wanted to get this out of my head so i could finish starco week. Let me know what you think, any of your favorite parts or any ideas you have. Italics means flashaback have a great week and I’ll have a story up soon. a special thanks to @artgirllullaby who helped me with the idea and @hains-mae for drawing a really awesome Nova pic that inspired her outfit here

@hipster-rapunzel @isolated-frequencies

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so. mariah cosplay update

i made a mock shirt


its a bit tight (at first it was too loose and now its too tight except for the top part is still kinda loose)

however i gotta fix it anyway cus the neckline goes out too far so

plus when i make the final one its gonna have elastic on the top so thatll secure it anyway sOO

I also made ANOTHER hood (this is. the third time i made one – however i made it cus i somehow lOST THE FIRST ONE ANYWAY SO–)


I like this second hood more than the first so (and this is the one i just made a rogue hood pattern so–

BUT YEAH thats all that

hopeamy03  asked:

Hey, first of all, I love this blog. In the animated movie Under the red hood, Jay doesn't have that white strip in his hair, I learned here that that isnt canon ;), but he doesnt have the red bat on his chest neither. Since when he have the red symbol?

Thank you, my dear :)

He start to wear it in n52 and he explained that he did it to annoy Batman.

A Mission for someone little with great nerves

Originally posted by hashirama

Request: 1) Can I ask for a fic where the reader is really short (5'0") and goes on a mission with Altaïr?

2)Altair x short!reader on a mission in which the reader “burns” Altair because he teases her for being short? With an innuendo please!

A/N: Let’s give Altair some love… And a burn he will never forget ;)-Jinx

Warning: Cursing(I just can’t help myself, this is almost me as an assassin… The perks of being short lol) and nerves ;)

She watched as her fellow assassin walked in front of her, moving cautiously and silently in the dark corridor. She couldn’t help but think back on the frown on his face when the Grandmaster announced that he was going on a mission with her. Y/N thought that after all this time they had formed some kind of a friendship, and why not something more than that? The young female could have sworn that she had seen him look at her from the corner of his eye when she was training with the other men of the Brotherhood multiple times.

In all these years of knowing and secretly admiring him, she had developed those unwanted, strong feelings for the male. It was something not understandable, how could she be attracted by such an arrogant and selfish bastard?

She was mad at herself for caring for people that didn’t do the same for her.
She forced herself back to her senses, only to notice that Altair had stopped walking. Her fingers barely brushed at the back of his robes, and she prayed she didn’t notice. She wished she could do it again, but the Eagle of Masyaf would notice that for sure.

They hid in two recesses the wall had as some guards were passing by, their weapons ready for a fight, one they were trying to avoid. The last thing they wanted was attention. Altair looked at the h/c girl, and she looked right back at him expressionlessly. The man made some signals, and she nodded as she understood his plan. He turned his head away sharply, and Y/N noticed his body tensed and relaxed in a few seconds.

Altair carried on with his mission, and the female assassin stayed to that dark alley for a second. After noting that there was nobody near, she looked at the ground, and detected the outline of a very small door. Only a little child could get in it without getting stuck.

She was once thankful for her small body.

She opened it carefully and slid inside, ready to strike anyone that stood against her. With her muscles screaming in protest, she closed the empty space once again, so if anyone came they wouldn’t suspect a thing. The Templars wouldn’t know what hit them.

As if she would just stay hidden there, just like the Master Assassin had ordered her. They were in the same rank, for God’s sake, what was his problem? He was frustrating her endlessly with his constant attempts to impress Al Mualim. If the Grandmaster believed it was a mission for two, it was a mission for freaking two.

She could see some light at the end of the tunnel. She flicked her hidden blade out, and held tightly on the other hand her sword as she almost reached the end. She was ready for anything that would try to kill her, and used the darkness as camouflage. She took a deep breath, and looked down, to see that Templars had outsmarted Altair. And he was having a pretty hard time, something that didn’t go unnoticed by her. She could see blood on his robes, and she freaked out.

“Altair!” She screamed as she watched him add pressure onto his aching ribs and almost trip on his own feet. Just how tired was he? That idiot, that’s why this is a mission for two, she knew something like this would happen! That foolish, arrogant…

“Assassin!” One of the men yelled, and Y/N let out a low string of curses. “The hay! Move the cart away before she falls on it!”

But it was too late. She had already performed a very skillful leap of faith, and landed on the haystack with a small “thud”. The first templar that came her way felt her harsh kick on his jaw, and backed away, holding onto it painfully. Without losing anymore time, she threw a knife at his chest, ending his life instantly. Altair hadn’t stopped fighting with five or six other men, bigger and stronger than him. But as the h/c girl had noticed, he was faster.

“A midget came to assist his friend?” One of the Templars that had surrounded her laughed.

“You really shouldn’t have said that…” She hissed lowly as she got up from the haystack, and another male laughed too, even harder than the previous one.

“A-A she? A short female will be able to stop all of us…” He was cut off by a knife thrown on his throat. He gagged at his own blood, and the others stopped smiling.

She walked calmly, maybe too calmly, to the first one that had talked, and smirked under her white hood.

“Do not ever, ever underestimate women, and short people, do you hear me?” She was carrying the man she had killed a few seconds ago, and two Templars ran to her, their swords ready to strike, avenge the death of their friend. Those two that came were previously fighting the male assassin, and he managed to assassinate other two.

He was tired, blood mixing with sweat and nerves with that unmistakable feeling of fear. It had a death grip on his heart, his worry for the girl increasing. Adrenaline pushed him to his limits, with just one goal; get to Y/N and help her out of this situation.

He stabbed someone in the chest with his hidden blade, and swiftly made a turn to slice the other man’s throat. After he was done with the distracted and very scared group that had overpowered him momentarily, he turned to Y/N’s direction again, and saw at least four bodies down. Her robes were full with the familiar red liquid, her arms and feet moving graciously as her rugged breathing matching his own.

He felt… proud of her.

He ran to her rescue, even though she didn’t really need to be saved, and stabbed a man at the back of his skull. A heart breaking scream left his lips, causing a few more heads to turn towards his direction. The duo fought back to back, always defending each other’s blind spots and putting up a very good fight against the Templars.

“The document, Altair!” She yelled in order to be heard above the clashing of metal. They were kept at the centre of the room; he would be able to find the right one there for sure. “Get it while I am finishing this up!” She had a swordfight with two men, some trying to follow Altair but meeting a tragic fate.

He obeyed, something that made her sigh in relief, and that was when a templar got hold of her. She braced herself for what was coming, and crushed her forehead against his, making him stumble back and call her many, many things.

She smirked and stabbed his abdomen with her sword glistening, and the last templar, looking like he was going to cry, ran away.

She was too tired to chase after him, and Altair came to her side, smirking. “No matter what he tells, I have stolen some unnecessary documents too. The Templars will not be sure which one we wanted.”

“Smart,” she complimented, and took a different route back to their horses. That coward would call for back up, and they had to hurry.

“Of course and it was, you would have never thought of it,” he commented rather sassily, and she growled.

Altair was smiling slightly at her flustered frame, and she threw a rather strong punch on his side.

“That’s the highest you can reach? You are disappointing me, Y/N.” He told her, knowing that being called short was not something she could let pass.

She got a bit taller by studying on her tip toes, and Altair let out a mocking laughter. She still couldn’t even reach the top of his chest.

“You bastard,” she hissed and jumped to grab hold of his ear. She pulled his face down with minimal resistance from him, and whispered quite seductively.
“Life is short too, just like your ‘hidden blade’”.

He was left there dumbfounded, as she continued walking to the exit, finally reaching it.

“I am not going to wait for you to stop daydreaming about me, Altair,” she said and sun bathed her short figure.

He smirked at the challenge she was giving him, already intrigued by her new-found attitude. He would push her more often and see where it actually leads them.

“For a person with such short legs, you sure walk pretty fast…”

“Goddamn it, Altair!”

Assassin’s Kitten Altair x reader

“Master Altair I have returned from my mission.” Altair nods from under his hood.

“Was is a success?” You nod.

“Yes I was able to kill my target and was able to gather a few documents before leaving.” Altair nodded and held out his hand. Reaching into your satchel you pulled  out the documents. When you hand him the papers he notice a part of your hood move.

“[Y/n] what is under your hood?” he asked.

“Um… nothing?” A soft purring noise could be heard. You tried to step away but Altair quickly reached forward and pulled back your hood. Under his hood Altair raised a brow at the small fluffy white kitten that was snuggled up against  your neck.  The kitten looked up at him and meowed.

“Heheh. I found a kitten.” Altair frowned.


“Oh Come on Altair. Please?” You pulled the kitten from your neck and held him out for him to see. “He was out on the streets starving and at the break of death. I couldn’t leave this little guy just die.”

“[Y/n] no.” you pouted you lips.

“Please?” You brought the kitten closer to his face and the kitten pressed his paw to Altair’s nose. Altair let out a sigh and moved the kittens paw from his nose. “Fine.” You smiled.

“Yaaaaay. Thank you.” Giving him a quick peck on the cheek you ran out of the room. Altair just shook his head and got back to work.

~The Next day~

Malik smiled as he held his quil up and let  the kitten bat at the feather. You smiled as you rest your head on your hand.

“I will admit he is cute.”

“I thought you would like him.” You giggled and scratched his head.

“So what did you name him?”

“Eman. I plan on trying to train him to do small things to be able to able to help me on missions.” Malik raised a brow.

“Like with what?” Malik started to scratch his belly and Eman tries to nibble at his fingers.

“Well with things like distractions, delivering small messages, even maybe try to teach him how to pickpocket.” Malik just smiled and shook his head.

Suddenly with a knock the door to Maliks room open and walked Altair. Eman hopped off the table and ran over to Altair  and started to climb up his robes. Altair watched the small kitten climb but when he reached his waist, Altair picked him up by the back of his neck. Eman just meowed happily.

“Nhaaa Eman likes you Altair.” Altair gives you a side glare before setting Eman on the ground but he just rubbed up against his legs. Altair just let out a sigh.

“What is it you need Altair.” asked Malik.

“I have a job for [y/n].” You let out a groan.

“Really? I’ve only been back for one day and you already have more work for me?” Altair gave a small smile.

“Stop complaining; it’s only a small job. One of our instructors that usually teach the novices has fallen ill. All you need to do is take over till he is back to proper health.” You rubbed your hand over your face.

“Oh joy. I completely hate teaching the Novices. They act like they know everything.” Altair smirked and flicked your forhead. “Ow.”

“You shouldn’t be complaining. You use to act the same way when you were a novice.” Malik raised a brow.

“You were no better Altair.” You giggled at the sudden memories from being a novice.

“Remember all the times he would freak out when he would trip and fall into a puddle of water?” You both burst out laughing while Altair just frowned. You let out a squeal when you were tossed over Altair’s shoulder and walked out of the Malik’s room; taking you to the training ground. Eman just followed behind trying to grab at the end of his robes.

~Time skip~

It was now at the end of the day, and you were heading back to your room to take a nice relaxing bath. Eman lied on top of your head purring.

“Yeah I’m exhausted to Eman. Those novices can really take a lot out of ya.” It has been two weeks now and it turns out that the normal instructor was more sick than anticipated. But he is finally showing signs of recovery and should be able to come back in a few days. But other than the exhausting work with the novices for the past two weeks; they have have been fun too. For you have also been training Eman. And who might you ask has been the victim of that training? None other than Altair.  Yep you have been taking things like quills, his red sash, Eman even had once brought you his trousers. Giggling at the memory of a mad and furious Altair you enter your room setting Eman on your bed and start removing your weapons and robes.

“Alright now where did I put those candles and bat oils? Oh yeah.” You ran to your trunk and pulled out your things you wanted.

“Oh yea that hits the spot.” You rest your head at the rim of the bath taking in the relaxing lighting and the smell of lavender. But the moment was shortly lived when you felt a paw pat your head. turning your head you see Eman has something in his mouth. “Whatcha got there little one?” picking up the cloth and held it in front of you, your eyes widen. You held a tunic if front of you but it wasn’t just anyones tunic, you were easily able to see that it was Altairs. “Oooh shit.” You could hear your door suddenly open.

“Where are you, you damn hair ball.” Altair sound annoyed. You quickly tried to grab Eman but he was already out of your reach. A few seconds later  Altair came around a corner into the bath area. Your eyes widen and you clutch the tunic to your chest and tried to hide your body in the bath water.

“A-Altair!!” His eyes widen and his cheeks turned a light shade of pink. But it didn’t take long till a smirk and leaned his half naked body against the doorway.

“Well what do we have here?” You pointed a finger at him.

“Altair I swear come any closer..”

“That looks like a really relaxing bath. Maybe I’ll join you.”

“Altair you dick head don’t you even!” You quickly turned around when he started to remove his trousers. “No. No. No.No.” You hear Altair enter the bath. “No!No!No!NO! You felt arms try to wrap around you waist.


~The Next day~

You lift yourself out of bed and groans. You looked down at your lap and Eman was just sitting there acting all innocent. “I blame you.” Eman only mewed. Letting out a sigh you look at the small hickies that you had along your shoulders and chest. Getting out of bed you began to dress. Once you had your tunic on you searched for your trousers. “That’s strange I was sure that I left them next to my bed.” You froze and slowly turned around and just as you expected Eman was there with your trousers hanging from his mouth and being dragged along the floor. “Eman you get back here!” Running down the hall you chased after the little devil of a kitten. He ran through a door that was slightly agard. Not even thinking you slammed open the door but then regretted it. For there sat a smirking Altair sitting on his bed swinging your trousers back and forth in his hand with a purring Eman resting on his shoulder. You narrowed his eyes at him.

“You are an ass.”Altair chuckled.

“Would an ass let out take a day off from all work so you would spend it with him.” Your eyes widen and it was silent for a moment as you processed what he said. With a smile you came closer and scratched Eman’s head.

“I love you my little assassin’s kitten.” Altair smirked.

“He’s more like a devil.” You smiled.

“I agree.”

Not So Tough (Part 2)

Overview: Stefan Salvatore is a Brooklyn mechanic who’s built up his own shop from scratch and prides himself in the work he does. Caroline Forbes is a well-off girl from the Upper East Side that was born into everything that she has, though she’s not always thrilled about it. She needs an engine change, he offers to do all of the work himself, but they somehow find themselves changing all the while (All human!AU).  

A/N: I’m happy that this fic peaked a lot of people’s interests! I hope that the second chapter isn’t a let down, lovelies. Enjoy!


“Caroline!” said the loud, sing-song voice. “The early bird catches the worm, my dear!”

It was her mother, who loved waking their entire household up, bright and early, on Saturday mornings. It was a tradition, but one that Caroline could go without. Sure, pancakes, waffles, eggs, and beautifully displayed fruit were great and all, but they were not enough to make the table-talk any more bearable.

If they weren’t talking about Caroline’s career plans after graduation —which was a whole three years away—they were talking about Luke, Caroline’s “boyfriend.”

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Part 17: Secret Trap - Teen Wolf/Supernatural Crossover Series

[Chapters 1 through 16]

“Something about her doesn’t seem right,” Sam said.

“You said she smelled like sulfur, right?” Dean asked Liam, but he ignored Dean as he tried to listen to Y/N talking to herself in her bathroom upstairs.

“Hellooooooooo?” Dean waved his hand in front of Liam’s face.

“Shhhhhh,” Scott said as he was also focusing on Y/N’s voice.

Together they heard Y/N talking about how she was once a young girl with insecurities too.

“Is she…?” Scott asked, but Liam finished his sentence, “talking to herself?”

Dean and Sam looked at each other confused. “What?” Dean asked.

“Hang on,” Scott said, he waited for her to speak again. “She’s talking about her body being too innocent and clean.”

Liam’s eyes widen. “And that it needs piercings in certain places that shouldn’t be pierced.” Liam shook his head. “This doesn’t sound like her.”

“It almost sounds like if she’s talking back to someone else…” Scott trailed.

Judging by what Scott and Liam were saying, Dean and Sam knew exactly what was going on. Sam let out a frustrated sighed as Dean murmured, “Damn it!”

Scott and Liam looked at the Winchesters confused. “Can someone explain to me what’s going on?” Liam asked.

“That,” Sam lowered his voice and pointed upstairs, “isn’t Y/N.”

“Its Ruby,” a hint of hatred wavered in Dean’s voice.

Liam’s eyes widened as Scott asked, “how?”

“Demons need a host. Normally, they pick someone who’s already dead or has no chance of living and are practically dead.” Sam said honestly.

Liam was about to say something but Dean interfered, “Let’s not assume, Y/N is dead. There’s a chance she could still be alive, especially if you’re saying she’s talking back to herself.”

“Right,” Sam defended his brother. “It’s possible ‘Y/N’”, Sam air quoted her name with his fingers, “is actually Ruby and she’s talking back to the actual Y/N.”

Scott looked confused but Liam was following. Liam rubbed his temples, “so how do we get Ruby out of Y/N’s body?”

“Is that even possible?” Scott asked.

“Yes,” Sam answered and looked at Dean. “We need to get the stuff from the car.”

“Follow me, kid.” Dean ordered Liam.

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Heroes Die Here (1/?)

Summary: Gavin and Dan grow up closer than brothers, in a bad town full of bad people, clinging to their ambitions of making a change - until fate and circumstance pull them apart.

Both think the other is gone forever, so the last thing they expect is to reunite on opposite sides of the law. And with the Fake AH Crew about to pull the heist of the century, it’s the worst time possible for Gavin’s past to come breathing down his neck.

(GTA AU OT6, platonic danvin)


America fucking sucked.

Dan had been here one damn day and already none of his charging cords worked, he’d offended numerous people on the way from the airport to the taxi to his apartment building by not tipping them properly, and now – to top things off – he was half an hour late on his first bloody day of work.

“Nice of you to finally join us, Gruchy,” the man at the head of the board room growled when he finally, rather sheepishly slunk into the conference room of the Achievement City FBI Precinct, juggling a briefcase in one hand and a half-finished coffee in the other.

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Bucky/Darcy, Guardian Angel AU

for @leftylain

A/N: This is WAY longer than six sentences… ;)  Not sorry.  :P  

Darcy thought she was seeing things the first time he appeared:  a weird silhouette in the alley she was taking for a shortcut.  She rerouted and went the long way around to her apartment.  Only to read the next morning about a string of muggings that had gone down in that alley.

The sightings came closer together, until she swore she was going nuts.  

She swerved off the road to avoid hitting a man standing right there in the middle of it.  

The rain poured down and the thunder rolled and Darcy’s heart was beating out of her chest.  

“Don’t be scared, okay?” she heard from the previously empty passenger side.  

She gulped and turned, looking into the deep blue eyes of a face she could swear she knew from somewhere. “Don’t tell me not to be scared when you’ve been stalking me, you freaky…ghost person!”  

“Not a ghost,” he smirked. “More like guardian angel.”  

She looked at the hood of her car, white smoke billowing out from under the hood.  “Doing a stand up job so far.”  

“Oh, you think this is easy? I’ve never met someone so hellbent on dying early.”  

“I’m just doing my thing…Angel-Dude…you have a name? Gabriel or something?”  

He snorted.  “Look who’s full of herself.”  

She shrugged, “I may have missed a Sunday school lesson or a hundred.”  

“Just call me Bucky.”

“Wow.  I guess they’re scraping the barrel for Angel names, huh?”      

royals-of-maliciousness-deactiv  asked:

A young man with long jet-black hair that reaches his waist, holded together to a long pigtail walks through the night of London. He hides his faces under a black fur hood but you still can see his snow white skin and black lips. He stays in silent.

The Count looked at the person curiously and smirked, sensing that this individual was not human and watched him closely before following him, “…and what might you be be doing here?”, he asked, standing behind him.

The Great White Blight: Holding the Line with Azelia and Nicki

They haven’t found a good replacement for black girls but they keep trying to make us go quiet.

There is a black girl thing that hasn’t quite been captured yet. They’ve been working on it for centuries now, from the first call , to the ring shout, to the Mississippi Delta growl, to the sugar cane song .

Iggy Azalea and Azaelia Banks have been the ship that has launched a thousand post liberal  hip hop pieces. Nicki Minaj and Iggy Azalea was the ship that launched a thousand tepid feminist pieces.

This is not a hip hop problem , this a blues problem that very pointedly never gets named and comes and goes with every single apex and nadir of black music,or black female creativity.

Black women speaking about the reality of their lives is uncomfortable, we swing it, growl it and yes enjoy it , but at the crux speaking black woman’s experience diasporically and an American one specifically is voicing the politics,erotics and aesthetics of the constant knowledge of your own disvalue. 

Banks assertion that this is the thing we made is most heartbreaking for it’s truth than it’s theoretical application to cultural appropriation. Hip-hop like blues and jazz is a thing we made , and more importantly it was a thing black women have used to force artistic playgrounds that later seem to be freeing for everyone but them. Banks more outré experiments, are screaming call backs to Missy Elliott. Elliott  who bursted to centerstage after years of production work , on an Ann Peeples sample who was straight from the same St.Louis that gave us Bessie Smith. Nicki calls to Kim who called to Betty Davis, who called to that same Smith and Ma Rainey. While being their own distinct and innovative thing black women in hip hop have always reminded the world of the existence and innovation of black women and their lives, GROUNDED in their sociopolitical oppression . 

 “We hate Iggy”is the “easy “ problem of race and hip hop rather than the more difficult problem of a cultural  landscape struggling with needing back women around to provide cultural product, while needing us to be seen as not producing anything to justify our abuse.  Black girls are on constant defense, and are considered to have no selves to defend , Azaelia is defending hip hop , not black girls, Nicki is making “superb racial commentary” not straight up staking her claim as a lyrical master. When did defending black women not become enough?

When Azaelia Banks cries during an interview about whats happening, the idea that a pretty blonder Iggy is somehow taking it from her is safe. When Nicki says “When you hear something from me I wrote… No shade” it’s easier to write about her “slamming Iggy” or the geo politics of over inflated women’s fights than the reality. Azaelia is talking about her own paid, Nicki is talking about her own prowess, but those declarations are instinctively seen as fights, because Black women’s centrality is seen as aggressive, or “jealous”. We can’t be just mad , we have to be mad AT, and Iggy seems t o be committed to making her self a great target by being insensitive and questionably talented.

Even more so that it exploded on Twitter, a domain once maligned for, now just mined for black women’s  culture responses is even richer . T.I’s tone deaf defense of Iggy was made more comical by the fact it was done in a medium that is making much of it’s relevant hay on the consistent hard knocks black women face on it every day.  Rather than answer what’s so special about Iggy that she cant get ( the mildest form of ) this work , T.I defaults to insulting Azaelia and black people (some !) for claiming cultural “stinginess”. We are expected to give and fade quietly while enterprising ( men) like him reap the benefits. His Ain’t No Mediocre a video that sees him jet off to Brazil, to center Iggy as a goddess galumphing her way through favelas, takes it worldwide , his idea of successful going global is a white Australian rapping like “Gangsta Boo”.

The easy accusations of drag and minstrelsy  are superb indicators that the conversation isn’t being had with black women. This isn’t generalize blackness being mocked, this is black womanhood. When cornrows and big booties are lauded for white women, but a woman can throw a wig on a penis call it a black woman and still be called a feminist icon, appropriation is the nice way for saying , we are watching a concerted effort to make Black women jokes and also to keep them from being able to discuss it. When Nicki cites Kanye, it is both astute observation and public personal caution. Speaking out gets you got, and what happens when it’s in medium that is cruel to you anyway.

The problem isn’t that we talk too much about Iggy. The problem is that we don’t talk about black women as a respected legacy of skill talent and creative force of which hip-hop was the latest itineration.Black people getting moved out of hip hop is terrible but is preceded by black WOMEN being moved out of hip hop first. Not just as subjects ,but as artists and commentators. Talking about Iggy is fine , if we actually HAVE THE TALK. Words about appropriation aren’t enough , when very specific aspects of black woman hood are under attack. Iggy’s white privilege is a GREAT thing to talk about if we actually bring the people it’s constructed on for its potency.

~ Sydette


Characters: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Blood, injury, cursing

A/N: Part 3 to Repercussions. Sorry this took so long guys. I had the option to finish this up in one part or draw it out and it was hard trying to choose what to do. Anyways, this should have probably two more parts. Let me know if you guys are liking it so far! I’m not so sure about it myself but I hope you guys are liking it.  

Read Repercussions (Part One)

Read Regrets (Part Two)


Your phone beeped again signaling that you had another voice mail. You had avoided listening to most of them in the past few hours but your resolve was weakening. You picked up your phone and dialed your voice mail box, hitting the appropriate buttons to let the new messages play.

Y/N. Can…can you please just text me…or Sam even. I know you don’t want to talk to me but I just want to make sure you’re doing okay. Just text Sam. Please.”

You exhaled and hit the delete button before you gave in and listened to it again. He sounded worried but mostly just sad, defeated. Just hearing the despair in his voice made your chest tighten. You didn’t want to hurt him and you knew he didn’t mean to hurt you but this was the only way to really avoid either of those things.

You did, however, think him and Sam deserved a little peace of mind so you brought up your text messages and scrolled through the list until Sam’s name showed up. His name was bolded which told you that you had new, unread texts from him so you pressed your finger against his name and read through each one.

“Hey. I just talked to Dean. He sounded upset. What happened with you two?”

“Listen, whatever he did I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”

“At least let me know you’re okay. I’m getting worried.”

You selected ‘new message’ and began typing with your thumb while your other hand stayed on the steering wheel. You had barely gotten through your first few words though when your phone vibrated and began shutting down before you could finish. The battery was dead and now not only could you not contact Sam but you had no GPS to find a nearby motel. Crap.

And then, as if you weren’t having a bad enough day, you heard a loud screech and soon there were clouds of white smoke billowing out from under the hood of your car. The little Honda lurched forward, causing your head to smack against the headrest, and you stepped on the brakes. You tried to aim the car off the road but it slowed to a stop right as you began crossing over the yellow line. You popped the car into neutral, letting out the most annoyed groan as you flung open the door and braced your hand against the door frame and pushed, using your right hand to steer until your car was off the road and clear of any oncoming traffic. You snatched up your keys and purse and shut the door, giving it a good swift kick in the side to let out a little steam. When you pulled your foot back there was shallow dent in the side but it didn’t stand out much amongst all the others. This wasn’t the first time you’d taken your frustration out on your car.

“In a bit of a pinch, princess?”

You turned at the sound of a deep, scratchy voice and found two men to your right, standing side by side about three yards away. You watched them and before you had the change to speak up they both blinked, revealing their shiny, black eyes that stood out even against the dark night. Your hand swung around to your hip and you unsheathed the blade you had hidden there, making no attempt to hide or conceal your intentions.

“Great. As if I haven’t had a shitty enough day. So, tell me. Are you one of Crowley’s minions or does mother dearest have a hold of your leash?” you bit out.

The man to the left brought his hand up to adjust his tie and suit jacket before reaching inside to retrieve the knife he had. He ran his fingers along the sharpened edge lightly before pointing the end at you and tightening his grip over the handle, a wicked grin plastered across his face.

“That’s none of your concern. And you won’t be alive long enough to find out.”

And before the last word barely slipped past his lips both demons came charging at you. You kept your eyes on the knife and dodged to the side, seeing the first man fall past you, overstep and fall to the ground. You brought your hand up and swung it out, the knife tip landing right in the abdomen of the second demon. You shoved your arm forward, driving the knife in deeper and watched as his skin lit up, the light from beneath flashing a few times before his eyes went blank and he fell to the ground. You turned back to your first opponent who was trying to pick himself up again and you wiped your blade on your pant leg, leaving a red stripe of blood staining the denim.

“It’s gonna take more than two of you to take me down,” you teased humorlessly.

“How about three,” came a voice to your right and without bothering to find out who was there this time you instantly spun and just as you brought your knife up in front of you a third demon was barely a foot away and you watched as the blade pierced through his white dress shirt. Your hand came up to the man’s shoulder and as you watched the life fade from the demon’s eyes you let out a painful wail. He’d gotten a little too close. Close enough that you could stab him but also close enough that his blade landed in your side. It didn’t go deep but it was enough to hurt like hell and it began to bleed pretty profusely once he fell away, taking the knife that had stabbed you with him, allowing the wound to open up and blood to freely trickle out.

Your hand fell to your side and you pressed your fingers against the tender flesh to try to staunch the flow of blood. You took a deep breath, your teeth gritting together as you turned back and stomped forward, wasting no time in shoving your knife into the last demon’s chest just as he was taking a step in your direction.

You looked around and surveyed your work. One broken car, three dead bodies and a cut that was definitely going to need some attention soon. You shucked off your jean jacket and stumbled to the car, throwing it inside and to the passenger side floor where it wouldn’t be noticed. You pulled your t-shirt over your head and let out a loud gasp when the stretching of your arms over your head caused a sharp pain to to shoot across your side. Now you were in your bra and you used your bloodstained t-shirt as a bandage, wrapping it around your torso and tying it tight against your injury, hoping that would stop the bleeding enough until you could get to a motel. You hit the trunk button on the inside of your car door and shuffled around the back to pull a clean shirt out of your trunk. When all was said and done you looked a little worse for wear but nothing too bad. The makeshift bandage seemed to be helping and the new shirt you put on didn’t have any blood on it yet.

It took a few hours to clean up the other issue. Dragging bodies into the woods and burying them on your own was hard enough but with a shallow stab wound on your side it was excruciating. You weren’t sure how long it took you but you could only assume it was a couple of hours at least. And when you were finally done, your face dirty and your body covered in sweat, you grabbed your things again and began a slow walk down the dark country road.

The night had been pretty shitty so far save for one thing. It turns out you were close to a motel, only a thirty minute walk away to be more precise. You trudged through the empty gravel parking lot and when you finally got to the door to the front desk you barely had enough energy to pull on the handle to get inside. You smacked your hand against the silver bell on the counter, letting it ring much louder than you’d meant to. A kind looking man stepped out from the back. He looked to be in his sixties and despite your discomfort you smiled up at him when he approached you.

“One room please.”

The man nodded and grinned as he began tapping away on the computer. The transaction didn’t take long and within minutes you were all paid and the man handed you your key. You muttered a 'thank you’ and just as you reached for the door you heard the man call from behind you. You turned around just in time to see him shuffle around the counter and hand you a small plastic box, the words 'First Aid’ written in red across the lid. You looked up at him again and he held a sad smile on his face.

“What’s this for?” you asked quietly, trying not to let on to the pain you were in. The man simply nodded down to your side and your eyes followed his gaze until you noticed the spots of red dotting the fabric above your wound.

“It’s not the first time I’ve had someone come in here all beat up. Now you go get yourself cleaned up.”

You watched him until he disappeared into the back again and let out a small chuckle as you looked down at the box in your hand. You weren’t surprised that there had been hunters here before and it made you happy to know that if you ever needed somewhere to stay that there was someone here that was discreet and understanding about whatever condition you might show up in.

You made your way to your room and the moment the door was shut behind you you pulled your shirt off and began unwrapping the t-shirt you wrapped around your middle. The wound had stopped bleeding and you got up a and retrieved a wet wash cloth from the bathroom to clean the blood that had caked there. When everything was cleaned you tossed the rag into the corner and sat on the edge of the bed as you used a needle and some string you kept in your purse for just such occasions to close the wound for good. The finished product wasn’t pretty but it would do for now.

You grabbed your purse then and began digging through your bag. It didn’t occur to you at the time with your newly acquired stab wound and all but now you realized that maybe it would have been a good idea to grab your duffel bag from the trunk. Not only did it have fresh clothes but your phone charger was in it and you’d be lying if you said the only reason you wanted your phone charged was to have the GPS available. It was late and after all those texts and calls from Dean and Sam you were sure they were panicked by now. And of course, with technology making it ridiculously easy to store information, you didn’t actually know either of their phone numbers off of the top of your head. You never saw the need to memorize them until now.  

When you didn’t find your phone charger in your purse you dropped it to the floor and tossed your dead phone down after it. You slowly laid back against the bed, careful not to pull on your stitches too hard and failing miserably. You let out a loud whine when your skin began to sting but you shot back up instantly, ignoring the pain when you heard a smooth voice coming from near the door.

“Hello love.”

It didn’t take but a second to recognized the familiar British accent and when you did your back stiffened as you remembered the little altercation you had had and how it was more than likely caused by the man in front of you. Your eyes followed him as he strolled towards the small table near the door and took a seat in the chair nearest to him. You did the same and just before you sat down you pulled the knife from your hip and set it on the table, point aiming right at the man’s chest with your fingers skimming lightly over the handle, ready to snatch it up at a moments notice. Then you tilted your head to the side and put on your darkest smile, making sure with every look you gave him that he knew exactly how much trouble he was in.

“Hello Crowley.”


More updates on the Blue Beetle. In this edition of photos, blue painting on the roof and side panel were the false gas cap was. Decorative trim added to the hood and the engine cover. Gross 43 year old carpet removed and replaced from the very back of the interior. Also new trim under the hood and on the white door. 

It’s almost done, unless I decide to replace the seats, because I removed one of the seat covers and the seats are pretty bad. But if I don’t do that I’m going to take off all of the wheels and paint the wheel hubs powder blue. 

anonymous asked:

Can u explain how eto's kagune looked in chapter 52, when it look like cloth ?

Sure! I think there’s two explanations: either it’s her releasing a ton of RC cells to form her massive kakuja form, or she carries around a large cloth with her when she plans to go into Owl mode (cause she’s covered by cloth that looks like her dress but is much larger than her dress when we see her in the Anteiku raid).

But it’s definitely not her dress, and it’s too connected and long to be her bandages.

So basically, maybe she starts releasing the RC cells and they flow together in this pretty cloth-like way, and trail behind her as she flies to land on the roof of the LE tower.

When she lands, we can see that she hasn’t fully completed taking on her huge monster owl form. Her head and kakugan (glowing white under the hood from her dress) is still visible above the kakuja’s mouth, and the cloth thing is still flowing around her (I highlighted in red again).

And then on the next page, she’s actually finished her transformation, her head is no longer visible behind her kakuja form’s mouth. No more cloth thing all over the place.

But idk maybe it’s a cloth she uses for when she does the Owl form thing. It doesn’t look like it’d be very good for that though, given that it’s thin and long and trailing. But idk. [shrugs]