#Rest In Flames Bozo

[plumsaffron]

How to cook your dragon

[lovebugism]

omggg im craving a halloween themed , rockstar!eddie x shy!reader at a halloween party , matching costumes and everything & he sees a ton of guys hitting on her & is like ???? my baby?

here you go lovie! hope you like it! — eddie takes his girl to a bar on halloween and gets jealous when guys hit on you like you're not already his (shy!reader, rockstar!eddie, established relationship, 1k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

The world didn’t know you before today.

You’ve been just Eddie Spaghetti’s girlfriend for so long — but now you’re Eddie Munson, up-and-coming rockstar and lead of Corroded Coffin’s girlfriend. The title carries a certain weight with it. You wear it with pride, but it weighs you down just the same. 

What’s weird about tonight, though, is you’re not sharing Eddie with the rest of the world like you thought you would. He’s having to share you, because everyone and their goddamn brother’s been all over you all night. 

Apparently, your coquettish rendition of The Bride of Frankenstein is making everyone else as crazy as it’s making him.

“God, go save your girlfriend, Munson,” Gareth jokes across the booth, laughing into his drink as he watches yet another guy stop you at the bar. “At least one of these assholes is gonna steal her from you.”

“She’s not property, dude. She can’t get stolen,” Jeff scolds from beside him, then flashes Eddie a sheepish glance. “But, yeah, the odds aren’t in your favor, Eds.”

Eddie pays no mind to his friends’ teasing — or the anger swirling like fire in the pit of his stomach. 

“Nah. She’s alright…” he mumbles into the rim of his glass. The whiskey burns his throat going down. It doesn’t match the flame rising in his chest at the sight of his precious girl talking to some douchebag dressed like Elvis Presley.

He wouldn’t say it if he didn’t think you weren’t a hundred percent fine. These bozos aren’t trying anything with you — hell, they can barely make conversation with you. You’re just entertaining it because you’re the sweetest thing on the earth.

It’s laughable more than anything.

He’s humored by it all. Not jealous. Definitely not jealous.

“Yeah, who’s the famous one here, again?” Jeff’s girlfriend jokes. She’d left to go to the bathroom with you but came back alone when you got stuck with dollar-store Elvis. She points to the rest of them with a long, manicured finger. “It’s you guys, right? Because I can’t really tell.”

“Fuck off…” Eddie grouses, forcing a grin while the rest of them laugh.

You return then, with a drink in hand and a frown on your face at the sight of your suddenly grumpy boyfriend. “You okay?” you wonder quietly, smoothing down your skirt when you slide into the booth.

The boy moves over to make room for you. “‘M fine,” he answers with a mumble that makes you assume otherwise. 

You reach a hand to his face, smoothing fluffy curls behind his ear. His cheek is warm against your palm. His faded seafoam Frankenstein paint job smears on your wrist.

“‘M sorry for taking so long. Some guy stopped me on the way over. I didn’t wanna be rude.”

Eddie shakes his head. Not a single part of him blamed you.

“It’s okay, babe. Not your fault.” 

He’s full-on beaming now. Just because you called that asshole “some guy.” It feels good to hear you say that, to know that that’s all he is to you — just some fuckin’ guy. You won’t remember him later, if you still do even now.

Honestly, you’ll be lucky to remember your own name at the end of tonight.

“He get that drink for you?” Eddie asks, nodding to the frosted glass in your fist.

You shrug. “Yeah. He bought it, but I watched the bartender make it, so it’s fine.”

He nods, proud and sparkling with it. “Good.”

“What is it?” Gareth wonders, squinting across the table.

“An Old-Fashioned.”

“You hate whiskey,” Eddie laughs, licking the alcohol from the plush of his bottom lip.

“Well, yeah, but he asked what I liked, and I didn’t know what to say, so I just told him your favorite drink,” you ramble, all mousy, as you drag the falling sleeve of your corset back up your shoulder. 

Your cheeks heat with embarrassment, still a bit overwhelmed by the attention.

Eddie’s grinning something fierce beside you. His chest swells with so much pride he thinks he might burst.

“Aren’t you just the sweetest fuckin’ thing?” he singsongs with a rosy grin, wrapping the ripped sleeve of his arm around your shoulders to pull you closer. 

Then he kisses you. Like, really kisses you. 

It’s deep and intimate and sloppy. He opens your mouth with his and slithers his tongue inside. He tastes like bitter-sweet alcohol. You get drunk on him accordingly. 

The rest of the table gags.

Your lips click audibly when Eddie pulls away. His smile glistens with a mixture of your saliva, lips a deeper shade of pink and slightly swollen. You wipe your chin with the back of your mouth — some of Eddie’s face paint comes with it.

“Where’s he now?” the boy asks with a mischievous squint in his deep chocolate eyes.

You shrug, totally uncaring and just wanting to be kissed. “I dunno.”

“Still at the bar,” Gareth answers for you, snickering to himself. “Giving your girl the sex eyes.”

Your face screws up in disgust. “Sex eyes?” you repeat, nose scrunched.

The group laughs.

“Think you can get him to buy you a round? You know, for the table?” Eddie asks you. His fingers trace shapes on your bare shoulder. You have to fight back a shiver.

“You want me to go talk to him?” you gape, like you must’ve heard him wrong.

“I want you to go get us drinks, sweet thing. Work your magic, you know?”

He’s not in the most right headspace right now. You know this. He’s still high on the post-show adrenaline and mellow on the alcohol.  He’s jealous and in love with you and aflame with hatred for bootleg Elvis Presley. He gets rash when he’s raging, risky and unpredictable — a deadly concoction.

“Eds…” you hum quietly, brows scrunched like the idea pains you. “I don’t wanna make you mad…”

“You won’t make me mad, sweet thing,” Eddie assures, squeezing your shoulder. He presses a sanguine peck to your waiting mouth, then his voice gets all low. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll reward you after.”

He smacks one last kiss to your buzzing lips.

You blink at him until your senses return to you. You slide out from the booth and saunter back to Some Guy, who’s seemingly been waiting on your return this whole time. 

There’s a sudden sway to your hips now, but it’s not for him. 

It’s for Eddie.

The boy with the wild hair back at the booth, missing splotches of his face paint and wearing your lipstick knows this too.

[seat-safety-switch]

Have you been to a teppanyaki restaurant lately? It's a fancy Japanese word that means, essentially, "fried on a metal plate." You go in there, you pay your money, and some dude does a bunch of corny jokes while frying your food right in front of you. Whole thing is a lot of fun, and you leave smelling like a barbecue just happened in your lap.

This sort of interaction between worker and customer is missing from many of our Western businesses. Things are just not fun. Nobody at McDonalds will flip a shrimp into her hat while cracking a joke about the stock market. When you get your car fixed, the team of mechanics doesn't build a flaming PB Blaster volcano to loosen the busted lower ball joint for your entertainment. And when you get someone to do your taxes, the lady they have working there takes one look at your box full of greasy parts-store receipts and just cries a whole lot, over and over, until the manager comes out and asks you to leave.

I figured it was time to change things up. Rather than ask already-overworked and heavily-underpaid workers to add an additional piece of unnecessary and annoying customer interaction to their plate, I wisely decided it would be best to ease everyone into it. Luckily for me, my general geographic area contains a very popular clown college. Thanks to recent maybe-errors in immigration policy, this school has over three thousand students at the moment, all learning the ins and outs of clownery and begging for a job, any job. And – unlike actual comedians – they don't get all froggy if you throw two dozen of them into a car and go driving around town, dropping them off at every business who won't pay our very reasonable "dismissal fee."

Friends, I'll be the first to admit that I fucked this one up, big time. I had absolutely no idea that clown makeup was flammable, or that their extensive bozo education did not include knowledge on safe food prep. That's just what happened at the A&W, which would have been bad enough if not for all the other stuff that happened. You've heard the rest of the defence from my team of attorneys, but I wanted you to hear it from me personally. If anyone has learned his lesson about employing clowns to blow up and then pop a balloon animal for laughs while standing next to the police bomb squad, it's me.

[sehtoast]

Happy Birthday (Homelander x Reader)

Fluffy drabble in honor of Antony Starr's birthday today. Gender Neutral Reader. Reader has spider powers. | Fic Directory

On the morning of his ‘birthday,’ he’s a grumbling, grouchy mess.

Homelander pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s not even my fucking birthday,” he tells you as if he hadn’t said it every single year since you’d both grown close. “Just what marketing thought would sell me better.”

Not only that, but he has to work on his ‘birthday.’ Run around for TV appearances, do his big, live-streamed save of the day to show the world that heroes don’t take a day off. They’ll always be there to save everyone, even if doing so is nothing more than a sore reminder of just how fabricated their lives really are.

Sure! He’ll zip around the state to appease his corporate overlords. Wave to the masses no matter how torn he is between loving and hating them, lift a car off some poor soul or catch another jumper. It’s what he does, right?

Because he’s a hero.

Right?

He’s not allowed to be like everyone else. Can’t kick his feet up and relax. There would be no day spent with you, no sleeping in, no lazy moments spent listening to your heartbeat before you wake.

He gets pepperings of you throughout his day, though.

You appear, in costume, at his birthday save. It’s the only reason he smiled when he touched down with that bozo who nearly leapt off the roof of an apartment complex. The emotive lenses of your mask let him know your smile reaches your eyes without even having to peer through the fabric.

It was your cheering that made it feel real.

He catches the sight of you blowing a kiss from behind the set camera during an interview. He worried his mask may have cracked on screen from how he smiled wider. He kisses you hungrily afterwards, away from prying eyes, before you’re both due to return to your respective duties.

You swing by during one of his meetings in the conference room, having taken the tray of coffee and stacks of paper from whichever employee was originally heading that way. You set a mug down for him and left the others to retrieve their own. The most you can give him is a friendly pat on the back– secret relationship things, y’know? But it means the world to him. You shoot him a wink before leaving.

It’s the only time he’s ever actually drank a meeting room refreshment.

When all is said and done for his big day, the sun has set. He finds you on top of the Chrysler Building, waiting for him atop one of the eagle perches. You’d set up some sort of picnic. He hears a song playing faintly from your phone– one he remembers you saying reminds you of him.

He lands with a sappy little grin.

You baked him a cake. How you managed to swing it to the top without any damage is a mystery to him, but he supposes most things you do are that way. How you love him, soothe him, free him… How your smile lifts the weight from his shoulders every single time.

“Make a wish!” You giggle before he blows out the candles. He takes a moment to admire the smudgy, wrinkly icing and awkward cursive ‘happy birthday, pumpkin!’ you’d written on top of it. More beautiful than that, there’s also you, bathed in the warm glow of the candles. It never gets old.

Yours are the only birthday cakes he actually likes.

His lips quirk into a lopsided grin when you lean in to kiss his forehead as he blows out the flames. He wasn’t sure what he wished for, but he thinks it must have been that. You tell him that his present has to wait for later since you didn’t trust yourself to carry it and the cake up the tower. He doesn’t care about that.

Not now.

Not when there’s a speck of icing to be dabbed on your nose and serenity to be had.

He takes you up above the clouds. The moon glows bright and full, but he has only eyes for you as you sway together. The music had long since ended, but you two dance nonetheless. Your hand rests in his, his arm wraps around your waist, and he floats you in a slow spin.

He thanks you for wiggling into his day as much as you could.

“S’what I do best,” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I love you, Johnny. Happy birthday.”

He wraps his other arm around you, pulling you infinitely closer, no longer spinning. He’d rather focus on holding you. Taking in the moment, being here, now, with you.

He’s happy.

Content.

Peaceful.

Loved.

Completely and utterly tranquil in the gravity of you.

“I love you, too.”

A very happy birthday and many, many more to our shining Starr himself <3

[exhoetic333]

the rest is confetti

JJ Maybank x fem!Reader

[2.4k words] An insight on yours and JJ’s life, from the day you met to the day you made it.

He’d been about thirteen years old when he went to his first party. It was at the Boneyard, so no biggie, but it was the first one he’d ever attended for real, no sneaking in with John B and getting shit on by the older teens or nothing.

So JJ had worn clean clothes (not his), fixed his hair and had chewed gum the entire walk so when he’d kiss a cute touron girl, his breath wouldn’t smell bad. They’d gotten the invite through the eldest boy of the family that lived right across the Château, the Routledges’ humble abode—though JJ treated it like it was his—and John B had made fun of JJ for being so eager. “This is when our life starts, bozo,” the blonde had told his best friend in his defence.

The party was a ruckus: crumbled red solo-cups in the hot sand; vivid flames outstretched, touching the midnight sky; honey-melon moon basking the teenagers’ faces in a drunk limelight. Everyone was either drinking, smoking weed or doing hard stuff behind the sandbanks, and music was blasting loudly through multiple speakers placed strategically around the beach.

Enjoying one of his favourite songs and the island heat in the summertime, JJ had lit a joint and went to sit by the shore. He was pissed because John B has found himself a girl to talk to before he did, and he cursed him mentally for leaving him alone at their first party ever. The blonde boy had used up his false bravado on half the girls attending, and it had gotten him absolutely nowhere. He took another draw of the joint only to find it empty, so he let out a loud groan in frustration before tossing it away.

Loud laughter interrupted his fit and he looked up to find you standing in front of him, showing all your pearly teeth like a trophy. You had your hands on your hips, creasing the soft fabric of the fitted yellow sundress you wore, and thick curls that fell in cascades over you shoulders. In truth, you might have been the prettiest girl he has ever encountered in his entire lifetime. Maybe he was being dramatic, but he was just a kid anyway.

“You look like you’re having the time of your life,” you joked. Successfully, your sarcasm coaxed a laugh out of him and you could have sworn its boyishness was the most attractive thing you’d heard all night.

JJ flipped you off, then introduced himself. You extended an arm out for him to grab, then pulled him off the sand and by the bonfire, where his best friend was glancing at him with wide eyes and wiggling his brows suggestively. You’d laughed again and JJ melted at the sound and when he asked you to dance, you found yourself unable to deny his proposal.

By the end of the night, you’d shared two joints in addition to the one he started the night with, gained a new scar on your knee from where you fell in the sand after he tried to dip you and made a friend for the rest of the summer. You exchanged numbers just as your school friends urged you to go back home. Right as you got in the car, he had texted you, not wasting a second, asking you if you wanted to go surf in the morning.

From then on, you and JJ had become inseparable. Joint at the hip, really. He introduced you to the rest of his friend group, the Pogues, and you fit in like a glove. Every morning, he’d come pick you up from your house and you’d walk to the Château where everyone else was waiting in the backyard. Your mother grew to love him, your father a little less.

When the start of the school year rolled around, you were both delighted to find out that you had a bunch of classes in common. For two fresh high schoolers, it was about as blessed a miracle you could receive from the higher powers. It was written in stone apparently, you were in this together.

You begun to truly see him when you fifteen. The sky was purple and an angry storm had ravaged the island and, still, JJ had showed up at your window. He was all drenched, tears and rainwater alike, but it was the bruises that blossomed from the hem of his pants to his neckline, littering his torso like flower buds, that alarmed you the most. You offered him fresh clothes and shelter. When he sat in your bed, making it warmer than you’d ever known, he told you all about his father and the atrocities he survived living in the Maybank household.

As soon as morning rolled around, you’d given him a key to the front door and said: “This is your house, too, Jay. You can come whenever you want, even when we’re not home. You don’t ever have to endure your dad ever again.”

JJ had always looked at you different than how you looked at him, but the sentiment had only deepened when he saw just how much you cared about him. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before, like he wanted to lean in and never pulled away. When you hugged him that morning, he didn’t care that his entire body was on fire, that the bruises put on his body by the hands of his acerbically agressive father felt like gulley wounds, he wanted you close like that forever.

For a little while, he tried to drown those feelings by putting some distance between you two, but it ended absurdly. You caught onto his game immediately, called him out for it and left him standing with his feet in the sand and hot regret brewing in the pit of his stomach. He’d apologized that same night, and you’d shared a bed, entangled under the covers. JJ told you that he didn’t feel good, and you simply assumed that what fuelled his odd behaviour was his horrible home life. You’d never have guessed it was you.

Kie tried to point it out a couple of times and, when John B started dating Kook princess Sarah Cameron, she had told you the exact same thing. Pope was sick of the both of you not acknowledging the blatant chemistry that was close to burning every lightbulb in the room. John B, knowing exactly what his best friends had been feeling through all those years, was living off cheesy jokes and not-so-subtle innuendos. Long story short, you two might as well have been the blindest teenagers there ever was.

That point of view was shared by everyone on the island, who simply assumed that the two of you were together. Belonged to each other. When you’d say you weren’t, they’d use it against you. At parties, boys would flirt with you to rile him up and you knew girls often texted him out of nowhere just to get a reaction out of you. But you often were calm and collected, whereas JJ was a boy that shared his father’s anger and didn’t mind getting his hands dirty. When a boy got too close to you while dancing, enough to make you uncomfortable, he’d swing first and apologize later.

You discovered that part of him the hard way and it had taken you a while to get used to what exactly JJ Maybank could do. He could beat up a boy a hair from death for trying to spike your drink at a party, just like he could be the gentlest person and carry you to John B’s bed at the Château after you’d had one drink too many. He was duality in itself and you’d have to learn to live with it because, knuckles bloody or not, he would always be the same boy who asked you the dance with a wide grin and boyish, disheveled hair on the night you met.

By seventeen, it was shared clothes, hours on the phone and him constantly in your room no matter the season. Summer was your shared favourite season because it meant you could spent all day at the beach, fighting over the surf only to end up flipping a coin for the waves. On the way back home, he drove and you sat in the passenger seat with his hoodie covering your salt-drenched figure and him obviously trying to steal glances at you through the rear view mirror.

When you got a car, a real, functional vehicle that didn’t ressemble the van John B had to jumpstart every time you planned a trip, you’d hooked one of the bracelets that adorned JJ’s wrist from the dashboard. Your father taught the blonde how to drive in it under the golden summer sun, in a supermarket parking lot, and from then on you were exchanging the car back and forth, leaving it there and there for the other. You even planned a google calendar to make sure your appointments didn’t clash. The car was the first thing you owned together.

During your late teenager years, you and JJ had become a lot more domestic. At the Château, you’d cook and he’d wash the dishes, and vice versa. He would drop off his laundry at your house whenever his father forgot to pay the bills and you’d sit on the ground and separate the colours together, either listening to some soft reggae on the old radio in the your kitchen or watching a movie on your computer. When you told the Pogues that his favourite film ever was Mamma Mia, they hadn’t believed you. That night, JJ pinned you down on his bed in the Chateau and you had a pillow fight over it, with ended up with him getting way too close and the door swinging open, which made you both push each other to opposite ends of the room, breathing heavily.

But that was simply how things were between you two. Oftentimes, your mother would joke that you act more like a married couple than her and your father and you’d get upset whenever she said it in front of him. Perhaps that was because you were hiding feelings you didn’t understand, magnetic fervour that only called out for him and no one else.

It didn’t matter how many boys you hooked up with and if he was on top of a girl in the next room, you’d meet for a joint on the front steps of the Château right after, unable to look at each other but still craving the proximity. That entire dance you both were doing was ridiculous but there was no stopping the music.

You got JJ a signet ring with the first letter of your name engraved in the centre for his birthday and quoted an old song that had played in the garage of your house one day when you were playing cards with the Pogues. He hadn’t taken off since he opened the tiny box and hugged you tight enough to break your bones. But you’d enjoyed it and kept your hands in his corn-gold hair and a wide grin plastered on your face. When JJ blew his candles on the kitchen table of the Château, you had grabbed his hand and let him outside, and all of you had danced in the April rain. All of a sudden, you were children again and there was nobody in the world but you and him, grinning kids, with hummingbirds in your ribcages.

It was during the summer of your eighteenth that everything took a turn.

It begun with a sunny morning, humid heat turned up to the max, and ended with two fresh adults sitting on the shore with their hands interlaced, swollen lips and eyes crinkled with blissful, eternal smiles.

JJ picked you up at the same time he always did. You said you want to walk, so you left the car parked in the driveway of your house and walked to the beach instead. The sweat on your bodies made them shine like glitter and you smiled the entire way, catching stolen glances of each other as you crossed the island. Whoever you crossed shot you knowing glances, you and him, which you ignored like you always did. But something felt different and it was floating in the island heat.

After a couple of hours in the water, you found yourself sitting in the sand next to the boy whose eyes were bluer than the surf you’d just enjoyed. You’d shared a joint and, just as it ended, kept your hand over his and didn’t move it. He wanted to part his lips and question it, but was afraid you’d pull away and leave him alone. JJ was a miserable man when it came to you, no surprise, and he begun to see his feelings of desperation in you as if he was staring at a mirror.

When you leaned closer and grazed your lips with his, the softest of touches, he could have sworn he found his new religion. JJ slid his hand in your hair through the nape of your neck and crashed into you feverishly, like he had been waiting his entire life for it. And he was, anyway.

You were both awake and sober and aware. Nothing about the moment you were living was fake. For a second, you were sent back to a foggy night at thirteen when you picked the loneliest boy in the crowd and made a beeline for him hoping to make a friend. You’d found a lot more than friendship that night. The both of you took too long to pull away. Once the pair of you realized what had happened, it was as if a wave ofc relief crashed over your shoulders. Like you both had been stuck in purgatory for the lay six years and you were just now entering the gates of heaven.

The waves crashes at your feet. The ocean was fully aware of the moment you had shared and vowed to remember it forever. Blissful, you pushed him in the sand he tossed a handful at you as his lips twisted into the widest grin you had ever seen him wear, and your laughter echoed all across the beach, ricocheting off the ocean.

And the rest is confetti.

[crayzkrypto]

Kat's Basic Introduction:

Name: Aether/Kryptopath/Nightmare

Nicknames: K/Kat/Kry/Ace/Reaper/Night/Ari/Aries

Age Range: 16/17

Taken: By my Boyfriend, Crayzkato/Kato! <3 Him ^ ^

How short am I?: I'm 5'1-5'2 TvT

Gender: Male + Non-Binary & Genderfluid

Pronouns: He/Xe/Xyr/They/It (Got an issue with neopronouns? Okay, L, get over it bozo, it's just a pronoun,)

Zodiac: ♐ Sagittarius (🔥 symbol)

Sexuality: Biromantic, Polyamorous, Demiromantic, Demisexual, and, Aroaceflux.

Main Fandoms/Interests & Stuff I watch: Lunime (Obvi), Wings Of Fire, Warrior Cats, Httyd, Genshin, Minecraft, ARK, Subnautica, FNAF (I have played a majority of the games, and know the lore a decent bit), Undertale, Harry Potter, Raptor Red, Fairy Tail (Anime), Tokyo Ghoul (Anime), Demonslayer (Anime), Attack On Titan (Anime), Avatar The Last Airbender (Anime), Bleach (Anime), MHA (Anime), Inyuasha (Anime), Vampire Knight (Anime), Pokémon (All the games except up to scarlet and violet, I have played. I've also watched all the Animes and movies.), Jurassic park/world franchise, etc,

Bands/artists I listen to:

Ac/dc, three days grace, Linkin Park, twenty one pilots, Cavetown, Mitchel Dae, Alan walker, marshmallow, cold play, the chainsmokers, Eminem, juice wrld, blackbear, onerepublic, owl city, bohnes, 5 seconds of summer, maroon 5, fallout boy, Panic! At the disco, disturbed, tobu, elektronomia, Vicetone, noisestorm, wheathers, Enhypen, seether, SIXXAM, thousand foot krutch, my chemical romance, stileto, rebzyx, AVIVA, Silent child, Voilá, Imagine Dragons, kordhell, the weekend, layto, neoni, theory if a Deadman, avenged sevenfold, five finger death punch, skillet, AJR, boywithuke, moon deity, cxvxlry, dxrk, post Malone, Christian gates, ragnboneman, system of a down, Sam tinnesz, rise against, interworld, Connor Kaufman, Khalid, And there's a lot more.

Hobbies: Art, gaming, writing, poetry, botany (plant growing), caring for my cats, making Vids, making music, making games, animating stuff, coding, etc.

Pets: Artemis (Cat), Loki (Cat), Cloud (Chicken/Rooster),

Pets I used to have:

Milo (An orange tabby cat named after Milo from Milo and Odus)

Snow (An Albino siamese cat, who was blind, died of a respitory cold of some sort, will miss him.)

Buttercup (A Stray tortoiseshell cat I befriended when younger, she has since vanished,)

Redwood (American Toad, she died one night randomly.)

Verden (Green Locust, she lived a happy and full life for a locust, ^ ^)

Octavia (Wolf Spider,)

Iridescent (A California Pipevine swallowtail butterfly I cared for after I found her struggling to fly in a parking lot, most likely cause was a car, as a lower wing was badly torn. Poor thing, she lived the rest of her time without more pain, and trusted me enough to pet areas that were not her wings, and to handle her.) (fun fact, Pipevine swallowtails are one of the world's deadliest butterflies, apparently due to them eating Pipevine plants as a caterpillar. Just be careful not to touch the wing power and you'll be good though, just remember to wash hands if you can after handling one just incase, however. )

Dark (Mouse)

Gem (Mouse)

Wof Sona: Aries, and many more wof sonas (I have like, twenty.)

Aries-

Fictionsonas: Kat or Kryptopath

Kat-

Kat the crystal child, who freezes people. ^ ^

Kat also has a high concentration of magic in his body, and can create blue flames, use dark soul magic, absorb energy from souls, or steal life force on similar terms to absorbing one's soul; only it's bit by bit, and the person is alive.

He's not particularly aggressive, just don't get on his bad side. Do the wrong thing, and you'll be saying farewell.

Kryptopath-

And now for a dozen Kry variants.

Main Sona (Also my first ever oc): Midnight/Night

Trigger warning for DNI list, bc mention of sensitive stuff !

Basic DNIs:

Homophobic ppl

Transphobes

Ableists

Sexists

"far right" people

Hypocritical ppl

Toxic ppl

Pedos

Zoophiles

MAPs

Classists

Racists

People who can't respect simple boundaries.

Proshippers of any kind

Ppl who are 12 or younger.

Anyone who is a "ultimate fan" of the Lunime ship "Cykophan" (If you come at me for hating the proship, I will block you. Sorry ! ), DNI.

People DNI list:

* Lithium (Shitty person)

* Roze (Even shittier person)

* Aida (Also a pretty toxic person) (These 3 went out of their way to make up crap that wasn't even true about me, for no reason other than to start shit it seems, I thought they were WAY more mature than that, too. People are surprising, People's behavior and immaturity never ceases to amaze me sometimes I swear. 💀)

* Injigo (I think this one's pretty fucking obvious. Injigo, kindly stay far away from me, harass me on anything, and I Will be blocking you. You are the definition of EW.)

* Charactery (I was in fact groomed by this asshole, and also dated him at one point unfortunately, I was 15 around that time. He also manipulated me with alts, and tricked me into defending him with said alt accounts, as well.)

* Mari/"djphantomxcykopath" (No, 10thousand TIMES Over and over again, NOPE! STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM MEEEE !) (Really bigoted, let's pedos into places with minors, showed nsfw art of a 7 y/o CHILD in my dms randomly and without warning and without spoiler before I blocked her on discord!) (defending Transphobes, racists, pedophiles, etc.)

* Poppy/Lilith/BlueVioletsGACHA (Pedo, groomer, groomed me, sent overly sexual stuff in my dms on discord despite me telling her to stop, racism, and more!)

* Asher (Racism & Ableism, also treated me like dogshit.)

* Kae/Kit (Zoophilia, was once identifying as a "MAP", was romantically attracted to toddlers she was babysitting, racism, borderline homophobia, borderline ableism, defending pedos and zoophilia, defending h/tl/r. And more...)

* Hunter (Formerly SeanIsAlone on Fandom) (Got upset over a 'mean lesbian' flag bc lesbians who hate men, idk why you'd get mad over that, esp since your trans masc?)

* Axo/Kstar (Racism, homophobia, Transphobia, ableism, bigotry, misgendered ppl constantly, spreading misinformation abt others, lying abt age big time, and more,)

* Enes (Racism)

* Wolfie

* Miijovie

* Shizu

* Naomi

* Revon/Malefor

* Rae/Rye

* Abyss/lost one/Abysskeeper/darkness ( Toxic bitch. Who said herself she sees people as toys and "chips in the game" and saying she "sees the world in red" implying age likes violence and hurting others to get what she wants, too, in fact she also said she'll hurt others to get what she wants before. Defending a racist/Transphobe/homophobe, very rude and problematic in general.)

* Fiore

* Tallie

* Radical Green (Go back to your bridge, troll.)

* AnimeMinecraftfan

Other DNIs:

* Netherite/Claydouh

* Dragonthereborn

* Aprilsilverwolf

* Trixity

-Art status-

Fanart Requests: Tentative

Commissions: Open

Requests: Very Tentative

Art Trades: Closed

Artfight Revenges: Tentative/IDK (As I am not going to have internet for a month or so, so I may not be able to even join this year's artfight.)

Socials:

Tiktok- neon_lunatic (×XNorthern~AetherX× as the display name,)

DeviantArt- xXKryptopathXx

Youtube- neon_lunatic (display name as xXKryptopathXx,)

Artfight- XxXNorthern_SystixXxX

Scratch- LightsOutLunar

Toyhouse- XxXNorthern_SystixXxX

Amino- xXKryptopathXx

Reality- Kryptopath

Spotify- xXKryptopathXx (KZO Band Member)

Fandom- Radioactivatian, or alt; xXKryptopathXx

Roblox- xXKryptopathXx (wingsofark10156)

Tumblr (aka on here)- crayzkrypto

Xbox Tag: ARKDinolove

Cashapp User: $Kryptopath

Thas all for nowww,

FYI Imma be moving to new house soon, prob today! I will not have internet for a month or so unfortunately!

[writingtheskies12147]

Ayo hold on a sec the brain worm is wriggling

***

“Candles!”

Bruce pulled at the cables, but they didn’t budge. Dammit. How did they capture all of us?

Each of them sat at cardinal directions just outside the circle save for Bruce, who was inside at North.

Once the circle was lit, the cultists raised their hands over their hands and started chanting.

Red Hood cursed from his chair at the southwest point. “How the hell are these so fucking strong?”

The rest of his kids struggled, but something made Bruce calm down.

Tick. Tock.

He knew that clock.

“At ease,” he commanded.

“B!”

“Are you giving up?”

“It will be alright.”

The chanting grew louder until the leader bellowed in English, “On this night, the moon and planets have aligned! Usurper of Tyrants! Balance of Life and Death! Come forth! Correct the injustices of the world, starting with these heroes!”

“I’m an Anti-Hero, bastard!” Hood protested.

The flames turned Lazarus green and the temperature dropped.

Embers swirled in the air, forming familiar constellations.

He relaxed in his bonds.

The leader grinned as he knelt. “He is here.”

The others fell to their knees.

“B!” Nightwing warned.

Claws caressed across his shoulders.

He closed his eyes.

A gloved hand tilted his chin up.

The room shuddered before he spoke.

“I recognize those lips.”

“Do you?”

He could feel his smirk. “I should make sure.”

He kissed him like he’d never left. Like it hadn’t been years since they last saw each other.

Bruce opened his eyes to meet beautiful emerald green.

“I missed you.”

Sharp canines poked the king’s lips. “Not as much as I did.”

They kissed again.

“What the fuck!?”

Their bonds slipped to the floor as ice coated the room.

The cultists couldn’t stand, as their knees were encased.

Danny pulled away to observe the room. “So these are your children?”

“Ours,” he corrected, “if you want to be their father.”

The ghost beamed. “Oh, B. You sure know how to woo a guy.”

“Can someone please explain what’s going on here?”

A flash of light, and Bruce watched his raven-haired lover skip towards Signal.

“So polite! Let me take care of these bozos and we can have proper introductions. Wait!” He spun to face Bruce. “We have to do the thing!”

The Dark Knight rolled his eyes. “I do.”

“I do!”

Fire encircled their ring fingers, leaving behind a black band of metal.

Danny picked him up by the waist to spin through the air. “Finally!” he laughed.

Bruce smiled. “Finally.”

Once he had his feet on the ground, Danny snapped his fingers and the cultists fell through green portals.

“They’re in Blackgate.”

“Danny…” he chided.

The monarch groaned. “Fine. Due process, and all that.” Another snap.

I’ve run out of brain power but they go back to the mansion to explain everything and Jason mentions sugaring.

“Oh please. I have at least two hundred years on Bruce. If anything, he’s the sugar baby.”

“What!?”

DP x DC

A House that Love Built.

Bruce Wayne has a reputation for adopting blue/green eyed kids with black hair. Many thought he was seeing himself in these boys (trauna of his parents death) and is just trying to help.

The true reason is that he's building a family (more like a cult) for his beloved. A family of Vigilante.

See, when Bruce was training with the League of Assasins, one night while exploring, he fell in the pits. There he met Danny.

Danny helped him navigate the realms, and even trained along side him under Ancients. They fell in love. Danny became Bruce's ray of sunshine. And Bruce became Danny's voice of reason.

On their graduation, Danny is Crowned King, and Bruce is gifted a special cape, imbued with the power of each ancients. Unfortunately, Clockwork had to cut their time short. "It is imperative that Bruce return. He can not stay. But fear not, you will be reunited"

The two bid each other farewell, and Bruce awoke in his LOA bed (no time passed) and on his hand is the cape. It wasnt a dream. Examining the cape he found a glowing sticky note. "When 7 souls resonate, on a night when the planets and moon align, star-crossed lovers will be reunited and wed" -CW

That's our story so far.

[kumeko]

A/N: For the @mirkozine! I love her so much, ahhh, and want more of her and Hawks interacting (and probably annoying the shit out of Endeavor)

…

…

…

…

Mirko had been to a lot of dinners. It came part and parcel with the job—fundraising galas, retirement parties, celebratory meals after a mission well done, she’d had them all. So it was utter confidence that she knew that she’d been to funerals that were more cheerful than the night out she was having. Who could have known that have drinks with the number one and former number two hero was going to be this depressing?

Then again, she hadn’t really expected a riot from Endeavor. He was only comical in the accidental ways, like how his giant frame hunched over to fit into his seat in this crowded bar. They’d even picked a corner seat for all three of them, somewhere he could spread his legs a bit, and still he looked ridiculously big, like an adult sitting on a child’s chair. His serious expression only made it worse.

No, the one that Mirko had some hope for had been Hawks. She glanced at the man seated to her right. His usually wild hair was gone, leaving him with what looked like baby chick fuzz. A perpetual smile graced his lips and she was used to it being the only warning before he gave one quip or another. Yet there were none of his usual light jokes, nothing to keep the mood going tonight. No, instead Hawks was more interested in finding the bottom of his beer bottle than anything else.

Though, that was starting to look more and more appealing by the moment. When she had thought of celebrating the end of her physiotherapy or even the modest success of Shigaraki not destroying everything known to man, this hadn’t been what she’d imagined at all. Maybe getting drunk was the only way to get through this meal.

Endeavor looked at her strangely and Mirko raised a brow. Before she could ask, he frowned and asked, “You’ve been to better funerals?”

“Huh?” Mirko’s eyes widened. Had she accidentally said that aloud?

Unperturbed, Hawks laughed. It was rougher than usual, almost gravelly, and she wasn’t sure if it was because his vocal cords were also singed or if his new defeatist attitude was even affecting his body now. “What funeral was this? I missed out.”

Mirko clenched her teeth. At this point, she might as well commit. If these two bozos wanted to act weird, they could do it on their own time. “Yeah, I have. Even All Might’s retirement was more cheerful than,” she gestured at their table, “whatever this crap is.”

Hawks snorted, not all ashamed. She should have known he wouldn’t be. Taking another swig, he shrugged. “Well, this is our retirement, so I guess it’s on par. Glad to know I’ve beaten All Might at something at least.”

“Retirement?” Maybe her ears were more damaged than she’d thought.

“That…” Endeavor slouched slightly, an action that somehow made him look even more comical. Even his constant flames looked dimmer than usual. Regret coloured his voice as he slowly replied, “I owe you both for your sacrifices in this matter and I know that meal cannot make up for any of that—”

“It’s not something you owe me for,” Mirko retorted immediately.

“Hey, it’s not like we’ll get thanked otherwise. Well, me at least. You’ll get thanked plenty.” Hawks laughed self-deprecatingly. He looked smaller without his wings. “Sure, it’s not a fancy retirement watch, but I’d rather have the drinks anyways.”

“Are you serious?” Mirko growled, the last of her restraint snapping. It was a miracle she hadn’t punched either of them till now.

“What?” Hawks shot her confused look, stopping before he signaled the waiter. “You’d rather have the watch?”

The spoon in her hand snapped and it looked like she was going to have to pay for damages. Again. Teeth bared, she growled, “What do you mean, retirement? You want to quit? Speak for yourself!”

“What?” Hawk’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious? After all of this?” He gestured at her prosthetic legs, at his burned head. At the scars and mangled limbs they’d earned after the raid. “You’re barely able to walk, let alone run.”

“I don’t see anything that’s stopping me,” she replied, her lip curling in challenge. Leaning forward, she sneered, “What, you telling me you can’t do anything without those wings of yours?”

For once, Hawks was stunned speechless, and she felt an irrational amount of pride at that. Endeavor, on the other hand, gave her an approving nod. Relief flooded his voice. “That’s good.”

Immediately, her blood boiled over again. The gall of him to feel relieved! What was it with top heroes and their smug confidence that if something went wrong, it was their fault? All Might had been equally as annoying and Mirko was going to stop this right here, right now. “I’m not doing this for you!” she snarled, turning her ire to him now. “Cut the crap with all of this guilt shit, this is just what a hero does.”

Startled, Endeavor blinked at her owlishly. “I…”

“I should have known this would happen.” Mirko leaned forward and snatched the beer out of Hawks’ fingers. Finishing it in three large gulps, she slammed the bottle on the table. It was time she taught these top assholes a thing or two. Standing up, she growled, “The fu—”

“FREEZE! THIS IS A STICK UP!”

A woman screamed. Slowly, Mirko turned to the front, where six masked thieves burst into the bar, each of them holding guns. One of them was pointed as the cashier, the rest of them pointed at the guests. Around them, people cowered in their seats in various states of terror. Mirko twitched. “Are. You. Kidding. Me.”

Hawks whistled, turning to Endeavor with a smirk. “Attacking the place you’re having dinner. They’re not taking you seriously at all, huh, Mr. Number One?”

Immediately Endeavor’s flames shot up and Mirko leaned away before she got roasted. “I’ll be back.”

The second those words left his mouth, he was out of his seat and flying at the wannabe thieves. In mere seconds, he incapacitated two of them, his thick arms wrapping around them and knocking them against each other so hard that they knocked each other out.

Mirko didn’t stare for long before kicking into gear. Her legs were slower than she’d like, unable to keep up with her reflexes. Shoving away her chair, she dashed forward before someone grabbed her hand, jerking her backward. Whipping her head around, she glared at Hawk and his offending grip. “What?”

He wilted slightly at her glare, though she wasn’t sure if that was another joke. “Scary!” Not letting go, he gestured at Endeavor who was dropping the two robbers and rounding onto the third. “He can handle this without us. You’ll only get in the way.”

“Again, speak for yourself moron.” Mirko yanked her hand away, not wasting even a second on his words. “Some of us are heroes.”

Pushing down on her prosthetics harder than her doctors would have liked, Mirko bounded toward the front. Endeavor had grabbed the third thief, leaving the other three for her. Those were the odds she liked. “Who’s first?”

“What the?” Startled, the closest thief aimed his gun. His neatly trimmed black bangs looked like they covered his eyes, but maybe he didn’t need to see to use his quirk. He fired two bullets in rapid succession. “Stay back!”

“That the best you got?” she goaded as she nimbly dodged the bullets. Sure, her legs were slower than they used to be, but they were still more than enough to defeat a total amateur’s reflexes. Closer now, she leapt onto a table, knocking over a vase onto a man’s lap.

“Weren’t you in rehab?” Another robber gawked, confused.

“Not anymore!” A plate cracked under her foot as she somersaulted forward. Her left leg hit the first robber with a hammer-like strength, knocking him to the ground. Her prosthetic shattered from the force. Well, she had wanted to replace the damned thing anyways, it wasn’t designed for combat at all. Mirko stumbled as she landed, falling forward.

“I’ll get you for that!” the other robber shouted. She pulled out a set of knives, tossing them at Mirko with pinpoint accuracy.

The knives grazed her cheek and ear. Mirko felt the sharp sting of a cut and she licked her lips. “Not if I get you first.”

That was the only warning Mirko gave before rolling forward onto her hands. Her right leg swiped at her opponent’s knees, knocking her down to Mirko’s level. There was a time when Mirko had been fascinated with wrestling and she had never been more grateful than now for that knowledge. Quickly, she wrapped an arm around her opponent’s neck, forcing her into a chokehold.

“You,” the robber gasped.

“Me,” Mirko agreed, tightening her grip until the woman passed out. By now she was certain Endeavor must have finished the last of them.

“Let her go,” a cold voice ordered.

Or not. The number one hero was slow today.

Cold steel pressed against Mirko’s forehead followed by the click as a gun’s safety turned off. Not bothering to loosen her grip, she looked up to see the other end of a barrel. A man stood in front of her, desperation colouring his face. With a smirk, she tightened her chokehold. “What?”

“I’m not kidding!” the man in front of her growled. Whatever intimidation he was hoping for was lost as his voice cracked at the end.

“Neither am I,” she replied, tightening her grip again.

The woman gasped before croaking, “Let…go…”

Mirko grinned ferally. “Only if he gives up.”

The last robber glared. “Not happen…ing…”

As his voice trailed off, he collapsed, revealing a smirking Hawks behind him. He winked at her. “You looked like you could use the help.”

Looked like he remembered who he was and it was about damn time. Mirko was almost willing to overlook the insult. Almost. “Not really.”

Letting go of the woman, Mirko rolled over onto her side and pushed herself up to a seated position. By now Endeavor had tied up four of the robbers up, trussing them up like a turkey. That had always been her least favourite part of the job and she was more than willing to let him grab the last two and finish the job.

“Your leg is shattered.” Hawks idly observed as he crouched next to her.

Mirko snorted. “Did you lose your eyes as well as your wings?”

“Nah, just…I know a good mechanic.” He smiled this time, an oddly honest expression from him. “They can fix you one that’ll last a little longer in a fight.”

“Is that so?” She raised a brow.

“Might even make you faster,” he added, glancing at her right arm. The prosthetic was cracked but still in one piece somehow. “At least you didn’t break all your limbs.”

It was as close to an apology as she’d get from him and definitely more words than she’d wanted in the first place. Mirko held out her hand, allowing him to pull her up. “You’re not on fire, so we’re both a step up.”

“Literally.” He slung her arm around his shoulder, supporting her weight.

It shouldn’t have sounded as funny as it had. Mirko laughed.

“What’s funny?” Endeavor asked, back with them now. He glanced at her, frowning. “Your leg is broken. I didn’t need your help.”

“So?” she challenged, her jaw set and shoulders squared. Considering she was only standing because of Hawks, it probably wasn’t giving the image that she’d hoped for, but whatever. It was the intent that mattered. And she was certain her expression was more than enough to get that across.

Endeavor stared at her for a long moment. She glared back. Finally, he turned off his flames and looked away. “Our food’s getting cold.”

“Is that really a problem for you?” Hawks quipped, laughing.

She guffawed. “From number one hero to microwave?”

There was no way to tell if Endeavor really understood her point. Maybe she’d find her patrol routes oddly cleaned by him, find her villains neatly bagged, and the man still giving her guilt-ridden lunches and dinners.

Well, even if that was the case, it was fine. Mirko had plenty of time to beat it into him. Even more so when she finally made it to the top hero spot.

[taeswurld]

Ace V [Nova]

pairing: bakugo x fem!reader genre: humor, romance TW: violence, cursing, angst, fluff

Summary: Shifting into My Hero was a total mistake, all those tiktoks you watched on a daily about shifting somehow convinced your brain to take part. Now the question is how to wake up, and most importantly, DON’T GET ATTACHED TO STUPID DRAWINGS!

A/N:

HI! I am so sorry for the late post, but I literally just got home from work, I cleaned my room (because I cannot work with a dirty room), and then I had like a bunch of homework. But here’s the new chapter I promised! 

By the way, I decided to name your quirk, you guessed it, ‘Nova’!  

{ACE MASTERLIST}

After breakfast, you decided to go kick some ass. 

Well, more like figure out how to kick ass. 

Since the little anger-issues moment, you had no idea of what your quick was, but you could tell that it was powerful as fuck. 

And you weren’t exaggerating, your new friends, specifically Midoriya filling you up on pretty much everything there is to know of your quick, along with a few videos of course.

You asked him if he was a stalker. He turned beet red and swore up and down that he asked permission before even writing you down in his notebook. Sweet boy. 

Which brings us here, Gym Gamma. 

You were with Midoriya and a dual haired boy to which you still haven’t gotten the chance to meet, and Bakugou. 

Apparently, when the boys had nothing to do, instead of hanging out with their classmates, the decide to train together to improve their quirks. Although, Bakugou insists that it was his idea to train alone, and these “bozos just tagged along”. 

While Bakugou went off to train on his own, Midoriya and the other boy stayed by your side. As they began their stretches, Hiro was sitting right by you, wondering when the action was gonna start. 

���Okay L/N-san, do you ha-”

“Okay, number one,” you said standing up. “Don’t call me L/N-san. It’s weird. Just call me Y/N. I don't really care about formalities all that much. So just don't worry about it.”  You walked up and put your hand on Midoriya, just to reassure him that it was okay. 

“A-are you sure?” He said, turning red and looking away. What was this kid’s deal? Has a girl never touched him on the shoulder before? “Because you can totally call me Izuku! Or Deku! Or Midoriya! Or sometimes Kacchan calls me dumbass! Whatever works for you! I could totally deal with new nicknames! In fact, I-” 

“Midoriya! I’ll just call you Midoriya if it gets you to chill out! That’s cool right?” You asked as you took your hand off his shoulder to make him a little less uncomfortable. You turned to the other boy. “And what can I call you?” 

“Todorki is fine.” He said, not really caring or interested in the conversation. 

“Okay, Todoroki it is. You can call me Y/N by the way.” You said sticking out your hand as a way to be friendly. 

He looked at your hand and then back at you. 

“Okay.” As said as he went back to his stretches. 

Great, so you have one overly-enthusiastic boy, and one under-enthusiastic boy. 

“Okay Y/N,” Midoriya said as he led you to the center of the gym. Todorki stayed a few steps behind, giving Hiro curious little glances every now and then, with Hiro giving them right back. 

“We’re going to start off to see if you can still summon your quirk on command, just to see if you have a little sense of control over it. There’s no need to overdo it immediately, so try to be as careful as possible. Todoroki and I will be here to make sure nothing gets too bad, okay?” He says walking backwards to give you some space. 

Jesus, just how insane can your quirk be out of control if you needed two out of three of the kids with the strongest powers to help you control? 

“Whenever your ready Y/N. We’re ready and on guard.” Todoroki said, getting into a defensive stance, Midoriya nodding before getting into position. 

While they stood a good 10 feet away, Hiro stayed right by your side, on guard as sensing something big and dangerous was going to happen. Even though Midoriya tried to call him over, Hiro wouldn't budge as growled at him. 

‘I stay here, with her. No matter what’ he seemed to say. 

You took a deep breath before closing your eyes. You weren’t even sure what you were supposed to do. 

According to Midoriya’s notes, you were supposed to feel a slight tug in your stomach before feeling your quirk flow through your blood stream. 

You focused and calmed your beating heart as much as you could, and then you felt an uncomfortable, barely-there tug before feeling your body ignite with power. 

When you opened your eyes, you saw the familiar white aura around your hands and clothes, feeling your eyes burn with great power. 

“Y/N, don't over do it! Try to keep your aura to a minimal! Take deep breaths!” You heard Midoriya yell, before seeing a green power flow through his body. 

As you tried to take his advice and calm yourself, you saw Todoroki ignite his left side with flames. 

You started to panic seeing the two boy’s super powers, and as your quirk overtook your brain and went into defensive mode, you felt your quirk overtake your body, and let out a bloodcurdling scream. 

You felt as if your morning headache came back, this time, multiplied by a million. It was the worst pain you ever experienced, and made you go into overload. 

As your headache continued to pound your head, you couldn’t think straight, and you screamed out an all powerful forcefield into the gym, as if trying to get the power out of you. 

Closing your eyes, you sank to your knees, and pushed your hands to your head, squeezing it as hard as you could to stop the pain. You felt tears run down your face, and blood run down your ears. Nothing, not a single thing, could compare to the type of experience you were feeling right now. 

“Open your eyes, dumbass!” 

Letting out a gasp, you open your eyes to see your body blanketed in a blinding light, seeing the rest of the gym filled with the sheer power you were pushing out. 

“BREATH!”

You took the deepest gasp you could through your mouth, choking on a few tears, but trying to calm your quirk. 

“You got this! Come on! We’ve done this a million times before! I’m right by your side, baby!” 

You quickly close your eyes as to get a small sense of your surroundings, letting air into your lungs before pushing all of it out, slowing repeating the process until your heartbeat got back to normal. 

When you opened your eyes again, you saw nothing but a great disaster. 

Gym Gamma was pretty much destroyed from the inside, with all the pillars turned into nothing but rubble. 

Midoriya was on his knees and his hands squeezing his head, with his ears dripping blood, trying to catch his breath.

Todoroki also had some blood sipping down his ears, but slightly less that Midoriya, sitting up and putting his right hand to his face as a couple of ice cubes shot out. He gathered them up and handed a couple to Midoriya to help with his headache before placing a few on his own head. 

You saw Hiro come up to you, not injured, which was a little odd, but he nuzzled his head to your stomach. 

‘Don’t worry, I’m right here’. 

You quickly wiped your tears trying not to move your head so much, as to not upset your headache. 

“Jesus christ, that was an utter shitshow.” 

You look up to see Bakugou holding you against his chest. His ears were also dripping with blood, although his ears seemed way more severe than Midoriya’s  or Todoroki. 

“Well princess, haven’t you gotten stronger?” He said as he gave you a shit eating smile. 

Wait...

Did he call you baby? 

taglist : lanaxians-2

[cringe-phase]

Sisterhood of the Travelling Deleted Scene

This is the deleted alternate beginning of....many abandoned ideas. First it was gonna be a quick one-shot to practice stuff in preparation for a multichapter project, but I decided to just start the multichapter instead. I tried to make this work for the beginning of “One Two Three (Four)”, but I was too sold on Draxum being the cause for Don’s amnesia, so I rewrote it and liked the new beginning better anyway. Then I tried to make it work for two other ideas that I quickly lost interest in for being too serious--I like my lighthearted moments too much. 

Nowadays I think it's destined to be forever unfinished...but I still dig it even without a use...so, here just take it in it's abandoned and unedited glory.

Summary: The brothers stumble upon the Foot Clan and get into a fight on the rooftop when Donnie gets blindsided. Takes place early Season 1.

Disclaimer: characters use the concept of using a crutch as an insult and is not a reflection of what the author thinks.

It had all started so well.

Four brothers were on their way to their go-to pizza joint. The pizza joint was in no way their favorite, it was simply their go-to because it was owned by a Yokai and therefore they could dine in for once and enjoy an atmosphere that wasn’t a sewer. They adored their home and all, but no windows and the same view day in and day out would be a bummer to any free spirited teen. So off they went for some well-deserved pizza and socialization on the same night that the universe decided that today it was going to roll the dice.

It was Mikey that spotted the breaking and entering taking place. The little orange turtle immediately pointed it out, and much to the middle children’s displeasure, Raphael’s moral responsibility steered them to the crimes instead of the pizza. Said displeasure was expressed through groans and claims of “The police can handle it, not every little thing had to be our problem bro”, but was quickly silenced by the reveal of the perps and this week’s villain of the week.

“It’s those flame head guys again. For such a big city, we run into them a lot.” Raph pointed out, scratching his chin as they perched on the building next door.

“I think they have a stealing things obsession--”

“Kleptomania.” The purple turtle interrupted the slider.

“--they’re always breaking and entering when we find them.” Leo ignored his brother.

“I mean, that’s probably in the bad guy job description.” Michelangelo said from his seat on Raph’s shoulders.

“....D’you think they’re hiring?”

“Leo!” Raph scolded and Leonardo immediately shrugged unapologetically.

“Whaaat? It was just a little question.”

“No, you are hereby BANNED from joining the bad guys!” Raph nodded at the finality and jumped to the roof of the break-in-in-progress.

Donatello casually joined his blue banded brother’s side as Raph leapt with Mikey still on his shoulders. Leo glanced at him curiously.

“What do you think the pay’s like? Theoretically.” Donatello asked with an interested tone.

“Better than ours probably, considering we don’t get paid.” Leo crossed his arms to pout. “But Raph said we can’t. Oh well.”

“No,” Donatello smirked and looked at his brother slyly before lightly bonking him on the forehead with his tech bo, “Raph said you can’t.”

“What?! Donnie?!?!” Leo gaped as his snickering brother leapt off to join the rest of their quartet. He pouted as he jumped after him, fully intending to snitch on the purple teammate but immediately getting shushed by Raphael upon joining. “I didn’t even--”

“Shh, Leo, look!” Raph gestured to the turning of the knob of the stairway door to the roof. “Hide, now!”

The turtles had just barely all gotten into hiding spots as the door finally swung open, the hand on the doorknob connecting to a large brutish guy. The Brute held the door open for his skinny partner.

“I thought I heard something out here.” The Brute said, suspiciously looking around.

“I told you,” His Lieutenant said, “You need to get your tinnitus looked at.”

“I don’t think it was that Boss, it’s not even that bad.”

“Then you’re being paranoid.”

“I’m tellin’ you, Boss, I’m onto something! Everywhere we go those turtles show up!”

“Hey!” Although Mikey was whispering, he was doing so quite loudly. “They’re talking about us!!”

“Mikey shhh!” Leonardo slapped his hand over his younger brother’s mouth, nervously peeking back around the structure they had both hidden behind. The Foot representatives hadn’t noticed them, and Leo breathed a sigh of relief. He could see Donatello hidden smartly behind the structure with the door the bad guys had walked out of, ready to move counter to their location to remain hidden indefinitely, and Raphael was camouflaged as a gargoyle perched on the corner of the building just out of the light enough to be a vague shape. He looked to his brothers to gauge what the plan was going to be and ignored Michelangelo’s tapping on his wrist. Were they going to wait out the bad guys and follow them in like real ninjas? Were they going to ambush right here right now? Was Donnie hacking into the building right now to locate what the Foot was even here for?

All of a sudden Leo’s hand was warm and wet. “Ew!” He recoiled his hand back and looked at his little brother, betrayed.

“Hey, who’s there?!”

Leonardo hastily started wiping his hand on his brother’s head, ignoring his quiet protests and peeked out from their hiding spot and met the eyes of the Brute. He yelped and quickly hid again.

“Look! Boss it’s the turtles, I told you!” Brute exclaimed. “They’re here just like always!”

“Enough of your conspiracies, just deal with them!” The Lieutenant commanded as he started folding paper faster than an average human.

Leo swore as the Brute ran towards them and grabbed Mikey by his shell to move him out of the way while he wiped his own spit off of himself. A fist came down on their hiding spot as Leo threw Mikey out of the way and ran the opposite direction to get some distance.

“Leo! Mikey!” Raphael sprung into action as the Brute turned to pursue his blue brother. A trio of origami soldiers poofed into existence and cut him off. “We were supposed to be stealthy!”

“He licked me!” Leonardo complained as he dodged a swing and backflipped onto the roof of the doorway. “It caught me off guard!”

“Mikey!” Raph scolded as he blocked a punch and threw one of his own.

“I couldn’t breathe! He wouldn’t move his hand off of my face!” Michelangelo defended as he ran to assist his eldest brother.

“All of my brothers are evil!” Leo continued on his drama streak.

Donatello emerged from his hiding spot in the shadows and landed a surprise attack on the Brute, his tech bo in its hammer format and sent the bad guy to the ground momentarily. “Can we save the family bickering until after we are no longer in combat?!”

“Why do you say that like this is a game?” The Brute asked from the ground, curious. “This is real life, kid, we could really hurt you.”

“Roll for initiative!!” Donnie yelled as a battle cry, using his bo to vault himself over the Brute and toward the Lieutenant, smacking into a hastily made Origami soldier instead while Raph hurried to cover him.

Combat was successfully initiated. Origami soldiers were created and fists continued to fly. (Do better transition)

“As much as I love the impromptu field test of my new tech bo addition,” Donatello swung his bo with a manic grin, the chainsaw application tearing apart the paper soldiers like they were butter, “We’re going to be here all night if we don’t focus on the source!”

“Oh yeah,” Michelangelo thoughtfully added, “Like the spawners in Minecraft! They’re just gonna keep coming forever.”

“I mean, we actually have a decent handle on this. Plus I’m kinda having fun shredding these bozos!” Leonardo had taken the opportunity to practice some more extravagant swings and flourishes. Since upgrading to a single sword he’s been curious about pulling off one of those fancy spin-attacks he’s seen on some fighting games.

“Yeah I’m down with downing more of these paper pawns!” Mikey agreed, eyes alight as he set some origami soldiers ablaze with his mystical kusari-fundo.

“Ok so we got two for having fun with these jerks for once, how about--”

“Raph would like to hurry and be done here!” Raphael yelled from his side of the battlefield, punching a stray origami soldier as he dodged another punch from the Brute.

“You didn’t have to crash our outings, y’know.” The Brute mumbled.

Donatello sighed as he shredded another group of paper soldiers into confetti before activating his battle shell to initiate hover mode. He flew above the field, his younger brothers immediately picking up his slack and cutting through his share of soldiers, and zeroed in on the Lieutenant frantically making origami man after origami man like a well-oiled machine. Honestly, the speed in which he pumped those out was admirable. But, Donatello wanted pizza and he was bored shredding the same kind of enemy multiple times a minute. 

Spinning his tech bo back into its bo format, Donatello dove towards the Origami-spawner and swung, narrowly missing as the Lieutenant jumped out of the way. The jets of the Battle Shell whirred as he hovered back into the air, glaring down at the man with a cocky grin. A better challenge than the Origami Soldiers, which the flame-headed human kept folding and throwing into the battle as he dodged Donnie’s dives.

Donatello swung again and the Lieutenant ducked and blew a raspberry, much to Donnie’s annoyance. He could feel his eye’s want to twitch but honed his willpower to keep it at bay, honing in on taking this disrespectful villain down.

His tunnel vision left him blindsided by the paper hand that grabbed his ankle and slammed him back to the ground, another immediately jumping into his shell jet pack to sabotage any attempts to flee to the skies. He glared up at the human puppeteer, grin replaced by a frustrated frown.

“Not so tough without your little gadget, are you?” The Lieutenant rasped, now the one with the cocky grin. He circled the turtle, examining the spluttering jets shredding the fingers of the paper soldiers holding it down. “Why does a turtle need a fake shell anyway? Is it like a crutch?”

The “crutch” in question immediately sprang free from the purple turtle’s back, sending it and the paper man attached to it directly into the Lieutenant. Donatello immediately swung his bo to swat his legs free of soldiers and jumped to his feet. His glare upon the man sharpened.

“I don’t need a crutch.” He growled, softshell open to the evening breeze. It wasn't a sensation he was used to, but capable of ignoring nonetheless. He raised a judgmental eyebrow at the twitch of the Lieutenant's hands on paper. "Do you?"

The Flame Head immediately halted his folding and narrowed his otherworldly eyes at the teen. He knew he was being baited--he did the same thing to the kid--but he couldn't back down lest his honor and ego take a hit.

Lou Jitsu would meet the challenge head on.

The Foot Lieutenant tossed his paper to the side and took a defensive pose.

[cultureaddictconfessions]

Unromantic Love - Cubicles CYO Ending #5

(As requested by readers, I’m posting all the endings for Cubicles! I hope you enjoy them, and I am excited to bring you more choose your own ending fics in the future. Shoot me a message if you want to be tagged. Stay tuned! xoxo, Bri)

The sun streamed in through your bedroom window and slashed right across your eye line, waking you instantly. You groaned, rolling over and trying to escape the golden heat. How had you gotten back to your bed? You held your phone up and blinked blearily. Multiple messages left on your voicemail. Sighing, you opened the visual voicemail app and found that you had 4 from unknown numbers and one from Lily. It was about 10 am and you didn’t usually show up at Lily’s until lunchtime, but you listened to her message first. She reminded you that she would be rather upset if you didn’t show up to Lazy Saturday, and to call her when you were on your way over. Lily also suggested a cold shower and lots of water, assuming you might be hungover. Unfortunately, she was correct.

You pressed the next message after that, sitting up in bed and noticing a glass of water on your night table. You were truly confused now. Suddenly, a man’s voice began speaking boisterously.

“Goooooood morning, dearest! This is James, your favorite co-worker! Just checking to see that you woke up alright and that you’re not still on a bender from last night! You were quite a riot! -chuckles- Anyhoo, I’m sure the rest of the lads will have left you messages because we’re all very chatty, but if you need anything, well… now you have my mobile! Thanks for making last night fun and well-decorated, see ya Monday!”

Oh, Merlin… what had you done to elicit such a bubbly response from James Potter? You grumbled again, getting up and heading to the loo to pop a few aspirins into your weakened body. You shook your head and pressed the next message, after registering James in your contacts.

“Shut up Prongs! Er… sorry Y/N love, you know how James can be! Just wanted to drop you a line and make sure you drink the water on your side table, yeah? You’ll definitely need it considering that third shot really threw you for a loop, I think. Very cute though, and that gave me an excuse to ring you and give you my mobile, didn’t it? Feel better, see you Monday, and please also apologize to your owl for our intrusion.”

WHAT?! You stared at your phone incredulously for a moment before scurrying out of the bathroom, down the hallway and into the kitchen, where your owl was asleep in his cage. The only thing amiss was that the door was open. Had… had the group been in your flat last night with you...unconscious? You’d had the guys over for dinner before, but that was entirely different and in your control. You paused for a moment, looking around wildly, before gasping aloud.

“Oh, Merlin’s knickers! I must’ve gone out on the lash and they had to bring me home. Oh no... how dreadfully embarrassing.” You sunk onto the kitchen floor with your head in your hands. Steeling yourself after a moment, you decided to play the last two messages, which you could only assume were from Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew.

“Hi Y/N, it’s Remus from work. I’m calling to fill you in on what happened last night because I imagine the others will take the opportunity to say some silly, unhelpful things… oh shut it, you know you’re just using it as an excuse to… Sorry about that. Anyway, James and Sirius had a drinking contest with you and you were completely out of it afterward, so we decided to make sure you got back to your flat okay… We just looked at your ID to find your address and you had your key on you so… Sorry, I know it’s not really appropriate, but I… -coughs- we were all rather worried about you and they felt bad for basically poisoning you THAT’S HOW ALCOHOL WORKS LADS so we set you to bed and put water and the trash bin around in case you needed. Sorry again, and please give me a ring to let me know you’re okay. Cheers.”

Honestly, at this point, your life couldn’t get any worse. Not only had you thought it was a good idea to try to drink James and Sirius under the table, but you proceeded to roll off your trolley and need assistance making it back to your bed. You were honestly surprised that they all collectively decided to bring you back and take care of you, but they were basically your only close friends at work besides Lily. You dragged yourself off the floor and darted back to the loo, rushing to take a shower and get yourself somewhat together so you could Floo over to Lily’s flat in 20 minutes. You didn’t bother to put on real clothes, as you were just going to be lounging on the couch with Lily. As you cobbled together snacks to bring over, you played the final message.

“Why am I going last?! OH! Hullo Y/N! I hope you’re feeling better this morning. Not that you weren’t having fun last night hanging out with us at the party but you seemed pretty sick by the end of it… Moony probably already told you we brought you home and woke up your owl. You didn’t throw up though, and we made sure to leave you on your side so you’d be okay! That was my idea! Your flat is very nice, I really like your posters! WHAT?! WE WERE THERE, I’M NOT GONNA LIE ABOUT LIKING WHAT I SAW! ...Sorry, that sounded creepy. Your decorations, I meant… not that you’re not lovely too… ugh, I’ll shut up now. Anyway, Y/N, I’ll bring you extra sweets Monday to make up for us breaking-and-entering. We really are sorry, but friends don’t leave friends alone when they’re knackered! Have a great weekend! Oh, it’s Peter by the way! Bye!”

You were finished by the end of the message, and you were pretty damn sure you would never be able to look any of them in the eye again after that shitshow. It was pretty funny that they all seemed to have recorded their messages together and were yelling at each other during that. You stepped into your fireplace with a sigh and shouted for Lily’s flat. Green flames licked up over you and whooshed you away, spitting you out in the lobby of Lily’s apartment complex. You gave her a ring to let her know you were downstairs. In a few minutes, the redhead appeared, giving you a once-over that was rather like a mum who thought her child was up to something suspicious. You blinked at her and gestured to go upstairs, and she shook her head before acquiescing. Lily lived on the third floor… and was apparently pet sitting?

“Right, I um… I needed a favor from Potter for this upcoming piece I’m writing, so I was obliged to babysit his cat Algernon for the evening while the party was happening. He’s actually much more agreeable than Potter, and you know I love making new ginger friends.” Lily chuckled nervously as the orange cat called Algernon wove his way around your legs appreciatively. You gave her a pointed look before reaching down and scratching Algernon behind the ears. He pawed at your leg, so you walked through to Lily’s couch and sat down, with Algernon hopping up onto your lap. Lily took the bag of snacks you brought with you and laid the things out on the coffee table. You flipped on the tv and scrolled to Witchflix, too embarrassed to bring up last night’s incident to Lily.

“What did you want to watch Lils? I don’t think I’m in the mood for another romantic comedy, I’m not gonna lie. I think I could do some interior decorating or baking or something…” You took a sip of the water bottle you’d brought along, feeling somewhat better than you had earlier in the morning. Lily appeared from the kitchen with a bowl of Chex Mix and gave you a once over before she settled in with you and Algernon. She snatched the remote and rolled through her queue, making reactionary noises at everything before stopping and looking over.

“Okay, out with it. What happened last night? You look like hell, didn’t take the mickey out of me hosting Algernon, and you haven’t said much since you came in. Did someone make an awkward love confession to you? Better yet… was it more than one of them?” Lily chuckled at the end, but she was fairly serious when she questioned you. You sighed.

“I just got rather drunk and…” You gulped, remembering the voicemails from earlier. You knew Lily was going to roast you for them. “The boys had to bring me home and tuck me in. Spooked Aidoneus and apparently checked out my decorating scheme. Nothing major. Honestly, I shouldn’t have done shots with James and Sirius because they’re notorious for how trashy they are when they drink.” Lily listened silently the whole time before she closed her eyes and sighed.

“Honestly… that’s much better than I expected. Not that being carted home by a bunch of bozos from work is okay in my book, but considering none of them tried anything and you just blacked out and went to sleep, I’m pretty much fine with giving the whole night a pass. Plus that means I didn’t have to babysit you!” She stuck her tongue out at you and you smacked her with a nearby pillow, almost dislodging Algernon from your lap. She held up her arms in surrender, laughing. After a fair bit of ribbing between the two of you, you enjoyed the rest of the afternoon cuddled up and laughing at the flailing and friendships of Muggle British bakers, and didn’t think about boys or work at all. It was absolutely lovely.

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Credit to @ghost-of-bambi​ and @fetchalgernon for letting me borrow their boy!

Tag List

@supremequeenofthenerds​, @wizardwritings​, @couragetocontinue​, @fudgefight​, @lionnottheanimal​, @crtreg​, @shehassomuchsoul​, @formersovietunion​, @serenefreakgeek, @bibimagines​

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(In an effort to keep the “secret” element of the stories, I will only be linking to each ending in the main post, so check there if you want to read more endings!)

[frekydeki]

Much Like Lightning

Summary: You were once someone who would laugh at the one bozo in seven hundred thousand that got struck by lightning... Except now, you are that bozo. Add to that the fact that you get thrown back into time where the comfy dungeon you're stuck in is visited by a certain earl and his butler, and the Queen of England decides they're the only ones fit to babysit you, makes your bad luck like a nice little sundae on a good ole rainy Sunday. You happen to fall in love with the sinfully beautiful butler and accidentally earn the affections of others along the way; hey, just think of it as the cherry on top of your very unlucky sundae.

Pairing: (Reader x Various) (Sebastian x Reader, more specifically)

| Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4: Upcoming

The boy across the way has been drilling his gaze into your cheek the entire drive back to his estate. You, being the stubborn and nervous shit you are, keep your narrow sight on the passing fields with an irritated blush running over your cheeks. If you don't acknowledge their eyes on you, you won't have to answer any questions you don't know the answer to and the ride will be all that much more comfortable for you. Though, you do have a white knuckled grip on your knee while your other hand rests gently on your chin. Foot tapping relentlessly with your back slouched slightly in relaxation. Eyes intensely concentrating on whatever is outside of that window, but somehow very far off in thought; you're a freaking walking contradiction. 

"Do you consider yourself a hard working woman, (Y/N)?" Ciel questions across from you. You lift your chin from the palm of your hand and blink the daze from your sight. You sniff lightly and shrug, taking hold of a wrinkle in your light blue skirt and pinching it between your fingers. "I do what needs to be done." You answer curtly. You don't like going above and beyond much; it only leads to disappointment, falling a little short, never being good enough. You meet his eyes evenly, wondering just what he's thinking, looking at you with such an unreadable poker face. "Good." He says with a content nod before rolling his head to look out the window. "It will be needed now that you're a servant of the Phantomhive household." You stare at him... Being included in that phrase almost sends chills down your spine. What a legendary fucking group. When you would read about those servants or see them in the anime - the utter belief and trust he has in his servants abilities - you would always think that they could take down Sparta. An extraordinary group like them... And you're now a part of it. It's scary, almost. You're just a normal person with no special fighting talent or anything else at that. Eyes cast down at your hands, you nod slowly. "I guess I'll have to be hard working if I'm going to be cleaning up after those three." "You know them, then?" "Very well." "How?" The boy snaps. You draw back as your eyes almost fuse together your brow is pinched so tightly in irritation; just because he's Ciel Phantomhive with a demon butler that doesn't mean you're okay with him being a dick to you! You look him up and down, watching his hands wring at his walking stick, or his eyes search you for any sort of scam. Ironing out your face, you realize that if someone waltzed into your life claiming to know everything about you and even more that even you don't know, you'd be pretty irked too. A soft smile pulls on the corner of your lips; how arrogant it is of you. "I've seen them before." You answer in a soft tone. He doesn't respond, so you quickly jump on the opportunity to restart with Ciel; maybe he'll stop being such a brat if you both reach even grounds. "Master Phantomhive," You begin, drawing your heavy eyes to his, "I won't pretend to know you. While I might know everything that has happened to you, everything that will happen to you, the people who surround you, and even a few of your fears, I will never pretend to understand your emotions and thoughts." His wide eye shakes as he watches you with parted lips and stuttering breaths. "Please understand that I don't mean to offend you." "Very well." Ciel answers in a calmed tone. He flicks his chin at you, hand splayed over his jaw as he rest his elbow on the window ledge and jaw on the palm of his hand. "How do you know them?" You watch him, considering how to tell him that you watched them in cartoons and read them in books. You laugh while pressing your hand to the base of your head, looking out the window; squinting as if it's going to clear up the passing scenery and reveal the answer. "Pictures?" You question quietly, to which you shake your head and tap your fingers to your knee. "Visions?" "Clairvoyance?" Sebastian suggests to you. Your eyes turn to his quickly. Is that a super power? A lame super power, but it is one... One that's going to save your life. You nod and offer them a shut eyed smile. "Sure is! Clairvoyance is the word I was looking for. Thanks!" "You speak in a very unformal manner." Ciel grumbles. "Well we can't all grow up in a manor." You quip. Sapphire eyes jolt to yours, but you turn away as if to be oblivious to the irritation on his face. Damn, this is going to be really hard. Living through serving Ciel without being the snappy person you are, trying to stay on his good side, is going to be a trip... "Tell me... What are their names?" "Mey-Rin, Tanaka, Baldroy, and Finnian." "And do you know," He begins to shift in his seat, pulling part of his cloak from under him, "Why they are employed with me." Folding your hands in front of you, you prepare the speech you've given thousands of times over these three. "Where do I even start?" You laugh happily. "Mey-Rin has amazing visual acuity. So with a gun in her hand," You point finger guns at the two mindlessly, "She doesn't miss. You utilize her sight and skill in sniping, you line your roofs with rifles - no scope because she doesn't like them much - and she does a very good job protecting you and your estate... Though, you gave her a pair of thick glasses that impairs her sight... She treasures them, but they do make her pretty darn clumsy." The boys mouth opens and snaps shut as if he's an angry fish. He clears his throat and looks out the window. "Very good. And Finny?" "Ah! Finny! I love Finny! He's such a sweet guy!" You squeak under your breath. You stop and eye the two, who gawk at you in return. You clear your throat and continue on your way, "He's your gardener. He's very strong, uses anything nearby to hurdle at intruders... The straw hat you gave him, Master Phantomhive, covers his tattoo. The one he received while imprisoned at a facility. There... Terrible things were done to him and since you are well aware of it all I prefer not to go much further into it." You curtly end. "Baldroy is your chef... Not much of one since Sebastian does a majority of the cooking; rightly so since Baldroy doesn't understand a flame thrower isn't something you use in the kitchen. He's an American soldier... So he tends to like to rush things; get them done as fast as possible, hence the flamethrowers and such... He tends to give orders when the master isn't home, since he's a pretty good leader, like when the first- tiers from the cir-" You slap your hand tightly over your lips. A squeaky wheeze comes from you as your eyes - the size of the moon - shifts between the two men waiting for you to finish speaking. "Like what?" You push your chin out to Ciel's question, pretending to not understand him. "Like when the first-tiers... Etcetera etcetera." The boy rolls his wrist for you to continue. You suck your lips between your teeth and push your back against your seat. "Uh oh!" You chime, offering your hands up in a mischievous shrug, "I forgot what I was going to say." Ciel wants to have your head. You can tell, looking at the way his eyes are burning yours to a crisp with that glare. The shadows crossing his face are pretty severe, but you really can't say anything else too soon... Messing up that timeline is a no no. "I told you Sebastian would kill you." "Yes, but," You hold your hands out in front of you as if you're calming a frantic horse, "Sebastian," You look to him, "understands how detrimental it is for me to not tell you too much of the future..." The demon is silent. "Because some things should be left for the young master to come to understand when the time comes." Silence; holy crap who knew Sebastian would be so damn dense. That or he's playing stupid to make your time ten times more difficult. What a dick. But, he is a demon... You shouldn't be surprised but you are; you're so used to reading fanfictions where Sebastian is madly in love with you - the character - so he's so soft and mushy to you... Right now you feel like you're trying to work with a stone. You sigh heavily and push your eyes to Ciel's; you can't really depend on that man. "Young master, I will not tell you about the event I am referring to until after it happens, should I enjoy your company that long. I decide this because you will make your own decisions and learn from them; of yourself and of others. Should I tell you it all, it wouldn't be all that fun, would it?" "In the situation you were describing, what does Baldroy do?" "Your estate is under attack, and Baldroy tells Finny and Mey-Rin what do to eliminate the threat. And he does very well giving them orders." He smiles and returns his gaze outside, a small smirk on his lips. You move your strong gaze to Sebastian, allowing him to see the disappointment fresh on your expression. Those red eyes widen just a fraction. You snap your eyes away, trying to understand how a man as competent as Sebastian could be so incompetent when it comes to helping another person out... Then again, his only worry is Ciel. Your eyes, now taken over by a sad look, with eyebrows slack and mouth pressed lightly together, trail to examine the demon, who hasn't torn his eyes from you. An intense moment passes between the two of you; you're not quite sure what's going on in that demons head, but yours is filled to the brim with confusions between the Sebastian you thought you knew and with the one you know now. "Ah... Here we are." Sebastian announces as the carriage jumps to a halt, and the box darkens in the shadow of the large manor. The door swings open by Sebastian's hand, your cheeks being chilled by the hard breeze flowing in. Ciel exits first, you notice the worried pinch in his furrowed brow and the way his lip is settled into his cheek; must be worried about his servants. You take in a harsh breath as the demon's gloved hand appears in your vision. What does he want? Eying his hand, you raise a brow. So he can offer help over something so stupid as getting out of a carriage but not for something as detrimental as getting Ciel to shut up. Your hand latches onto his... His hand fits perfectly in his, so perfectly it should almost stay like this for eternity. You tighten your grip and then loosen it; just get out of the damn carriage and ignore the man is what you're thinking as you step from him with a hot blush on your cheeks... "Your face is red. You feel well?" Sebastian purrs in your ear. You harshly suck in a breath through your teeth and calmly turn to snap a severe look at him; remember, you're a terrible human and have no problem shutting men's advances down faster than memes spread. "Must be the cold wind." You dryly say, noticing that your face is getting hotter as you stare - no, glare - at Sebastian. A smirk lights his lips as he holds his hand out toward the opening door. "Then, let's get out of it!" His hand presses to your lower back and guides you inside, "Right this way, Madam." A slight growl fumbles from your lips and you march inside trying to remember if Sebastian was ever this touchy with guests or any women in the manga. "Meet the staff, (Y/N)." Ciel sneers at you. Eyes meeting in an electric battle, your lips pull down in a frustrated frown; why does this kid hate you so much. You bet he's going to spend every waking minute of his days with you trying to drive you insane. Your frown soon cracks into a pleasant smile as the four servants skid to a stop in front of you. "You four, meet (Y/N). She will be a new worker here at the estate. Please, treat her well and show her how it works around here." Sebastian states to the servants. "You'll be working with me, yes?" Mey-Rin's rough voice screeches to you, her red cheeks shining bright under her thick glasses. The same smile stays plastered on your lips, eyes shut in annoyance; you love Mey-Rin but some part of you assumes that you won't catch much silence with her clanking around you. "Yes. It will be a pleasure," The red haired girl opens her mouth to give her name, but you march through, mindlessly saying it, "Mey-Rin." "You know my name?" Your eyes snap open before you quickly cover it with a smile and motioning towards Sebastian, "Of course! Sebastian enlightened me to who I would be working with on the ride here!" You snatch her hands up, finding them surprisingly soft, "Let's be great friends, Mey-Rin!" Her blush deepens as her head begins to bob quickly. "Then you must know me, then!" Finny beams from your right. "Of course!" You smile gently down to him, "I hope you won't mind me coming out to help you every now and then... I love roses... I hear you keep them beautifully." "I do my best." "Very good, then." "Will you be joining me in the kitchen then? To help me mince the mushrooms?" Baldroy questions with a raise in his brow. Smiling, you nod and assure him that you would help to mince as many mushrooms as you can. Looking at the smile Sebastian is giving Baldroy, you can't help but remember the scene where he appears behind the chef to give him a good knuckle sandwich to the side of the face... You shutter and put your attention back to the blond man. "Though I should mention I prefer baking." The chef gives you a cheesy smile and scratches his neck. "If your baking makes deserts as sweet as you, I'm sure they'll taste better than Sebastian's." Swallowing, you do your best to ignore the cold air you feel moving hauntingly around you. Giggling, you turn your attention to the old man reaching to encase your hand in his. Shuffling through your introduction to Tanaka gracefully, the group breaks up with Finny running your small trunk - a gift from the queen who's taken an extreme liking to you - to your shared room with Mey-Rin, and Tanaka giving you a tour of the place. It's interesting for you to finally see how the manor is laid out, rather than only seeing a few rooms like you would in the manga or anime. The estate is grand. Fancier than the most expensive hotel you've stayed at, even; and that's saying a lot because you've been to Daytona and those hotel's sure weren't playing around. "What has Sebastian chosen you as a servant here for?" Tanaka questions as you stop outside of your room. You look to him; no point in hiding it from any of the staff to be honest. They know pretty well that being hand picked by the butler isn't just a random choice. "Clairvoyance." You curtly explain. "Ho?" The old man laughs. "That will be very handy to us! It will surely be a pleasure, Miss (Y/N). Goodnight." You smile shortly to him, watching as he slowly walks down the hall. You slouch heavily as you're finally left in peace, and you can now acknowledge how terribly your back and head is throbbing. "Your back hurts?" "Jesus!" You screech as you fling yourself away from Sebastian appearing behind you from seemingly no where. You point your finger at the tall man, "Listen here man! Just because I know the future doesn't mean I'm immune to jump scares." He chuckles in a very pleased manner as he bows; his hair glistens beautifully in the candlelight, and it lines his face perfectly when he looks down at you like this. But that doesn't matter. "I should change your bandages before you go to bed, (Y/N). You're wounds are severe, after all." You open your door, accepting that it's best you take really good care of your wounds, even if that means suffering the same embarrassment you did this morning. "I do, also, have some things to discuss with you in privacy." "Mhmm." You hum to him that you're listening as you unfasten your dress with frustrated huffs. His hands catch yours and place them at your side. "May I provide assistance?" With lidded eyes and slouched posture, you say, "Sure." "Since you're already aware, I will confirm that I am what you say." Your body runs cold; you did not expect to hear that so easily and casually. "But no other humans, other than young master, are aware. I beg you to have it remain so." "Don't worry. I don't really plan on sharing much of anything with anyone, let alone that." "You seem an honest enough woman." He smiles as your blue dress fumbles to the ground. He offers his hand out to a chair in front of a simple wooden table. "Now, since you're a servant of the estate I expect you to assist us in the maintenance of the building and the welfare of our master. Tomorrow Mey-Rin will help you with the duties, and I will keep a close eye on you." "I'm flattered." You mumble. "Young master would also like to speak with you further on your abilities in the evening tomorrow, after our guest leaves." "He does understand that I won't be telling him much of anything, right?" "My master is quite dense." "I'd call it more stubborn, independent, maybe even narrow-sighted." "Your tongue is slightly venomous." The demon chuckles as he removes your bandages. "If it weren't then I'd be lying." Silence falls between the two of you comfortably; you fantasize about a good nights rest as he dabs gently over your damaged skin. "Tomorrow, the guest you have visiting... Damian." The butler's hands stop what they're doing. "Listen to him closely. And..." You turn to look up at him, "Don't let Mey-Rin carry out the wine to pour." He raises an eyebrow at you, to which you smile sweetly, "Just a fair warning." "Yes." The suspicion in his voice is heavy as you turn away and allow him to finish up his quick work. "I've left your uniform in the chest. Mey-Rin will help you dress, I've explained to her that your wounds prevent you from doing so." With his materials gathered in his arms, he positions himself in your doorway, smiling to you with dark ruby eyes. You stare back with unreadable eyes. "Good night, (Y/N). "Goodnight, Sebastian." Seconds after the latch of the door, your buried in the blankets of your bed... Your sense of dread has somehow piqued your interests. While you're well aware you're in pretty deep shit, you're curious to see how it turns out. You roll on your side, wishing the exhausted Mey-Rin, who's just flopped into her bed, goodnight. You guess this kind of beats going to class and crying over textbooks. The only thing? You can't get black fur and blue wings, or ruby eyes out of your mind.

[alchemisland]

Wizards and Lizards - II

Easy as a switch flicked, he starts on in his stage accent, 'That's because I'm not a clown, you afroed goat. I am a seer. I am an oracle to rival Delphi. I choose not my gift, merely I am a mouthpiece, a vessel to amplify the will of the universe. A clever man once said that we, humans, are a way for the cosmos to know itself,' He points to the stars, then with soot-stained hands invites Bozo to look around, 'only some are born to more knowing than others.' He traces a button's circumference with his index finger, then nods glibly to finish.

'Drop it, Shiree. I've heard the shtick. Save it for the horny cowherds.'

The seer flashes a toothless smile. His thin lips, for his sins, were etched in a permanent sneer, two pale pigmentless worms that barely quivered when he talked. 'If what I heard from those sows is true, your knees must be sore. Will we see if I've a tincture for it?'

Bozo spits and stoops to his haunches, oversized strides mudcaked ankle to knee. One foot is unshod, his favoured poulaine lost in the fervour. 

Argument was futile. He knew how this went, concede defeat or argue until the seas dry. Shiree never let a thing go, not a borrowed penny, not a stringless favour, let alone an exchange of barbs.

Bozo sighs, 'We'll argue until the cows come home. Forget it. What's your plan anyway, magic man?'

Shiree laughs, all arch and theatrics even in direst straits. 'Strange you'd have to leave when the cows come home, is it date night already?'

'Fuck off.' Bozo exhales a plume of cigarette smoke, the same foundry grey as the steam-laden morning mist. Shiree imagines a dragon vomiting carcinogenic fire, selfsame as those stitched on his breast.

'No spiel, master jester. Merely my tongue and the secrets of the Gods. There are no plans either. The Perfumed Persian makes no plans, he alters the fabric of the universe to suit his desires.'

'Fine, have it your way, sandman. In what manner will you alter the fabric of the universe?' Bozo, growing impatient, taps his foot like a heated beast.

'I appreciate your correction, but I must rudely ask that you rescind your request for information. Shiree discusses not matters of celestial importance with baseborn whelks.'

Bozo poises to sigh again but stops himself mid gasp, realizing his last ten breaths had been sighs, which medically is considered hyperventilation. 'Have it your way, Wizard.'

He stood enormous, a modern titan. Six foot three easy, no mean feat in crueller ages, when only the silkskinned could afford to import the top tiers of the nutritional pyramid. His shoulders were broad, built for tossing bails, although one could not easily tell through his baggy playsuit, a loose fitting one-piece decorated with blue and orange orbs, twinned with yellow stripes. The platforms he wore performing raised him six feet eleven.

A profound stoop resulting from excess spine made him appear glum, eyes always to the ground, though he was of pleasant temperament, if not charismtically challenged.

'If you fancy a jaunt I'm bound for Duffy's. Lecho said he's looking for performing types for the jubilee. Shouldn't take three nights hard going.' With that he leaves, turning at the gate to see if the imp followed which he didn't. The forest's mouth devours him. 

Shiree begins to mutter. 'Shiree wanders not in the company of minstrels, lest their airs be praising him.' His child's knees barely buckling to stoop, he leans and picks up Bozo's cigarette still smouldering in the muck. He wipes it clean before bringing it to his lips, whispering the magic words into the moist filter. Smoky tendrils curl animatedly from its charred tip, shifting to form an ethereal bowl suspended in the air, smokelike and strange, at once foggy and clear, diaphanous almost. Shiree stands on his stilts and stares hatefully into the summoned cauldron. Quicksilver bubbles below.

It shifted in the fashion of living thing, a writhing mass of metal worms. Finally settling, the sheen parted in the center to reveal a vignette unfolding, a living dream in thin air. The Magician watched the Fool struggling through the dense foliage, pinecones exploding beneath his heavy tread, darting like a frightened deer trying to gain any sense of direction. He fell crossing a fence, hoist by own enormous shoe. Tumbling backwards he fell some distance, rolling toward the base of the rise, crashing into a patch of briar. He rose from the undergrowth patting the breast pocket of his overalls, desperate for a woodbine. Finally luckless, he cursed, crushing the empty box in his bailed fist before casting it aside. Pushing himself upward he pressed onward with grimfaced determination, displaying a dogged courage Shiree reluctantly respected.

The silver smoke shifts to form a drama. Bozo is far from the circus, dumping pebbles from his shoe in a clearing. Filth encrusted, bramble whipped and generally dishevelled, he had never been closer to the lanky streak of misery the mean kids used to accuse him of being. Shiree smiles. Now whose countenance could freeze time. A fire crackles, sodden overalls dry on a branch. When the mud dried, Bozo would scrape it away with a twig.

Resourceful knave. A keen scout.

Shiree whispers more gutturally into his cup of mist. Hell winds brew in the lungs of the earth mother and she exhales from her cavernous maw a breeze to shake Babel. Howling through the makeshift camp, the wizard's tempest attacks. Bozo holds his wig tight. Stumbling, he seeks shelter in the breast of a hollowed oak. For a moment he sees the flames resist and is emboldened, tongues wildly lashing in every direction, but the gale persists on until the fire gutters, then splutters and dies.

All calms. Leaves dance downward at an owl's flight. Its departure marks the end of Shiree's vision. Before him a viscous liquid rises, filling the sucking void where the projection had appeared. The bowl disappears like smoke in a hurricane.

This is his true gift. Possession of animals. Mostly birds and bugs. Occasionally wolves and larger creatures were employed, when mother necessity called. Transformations require enormous energy. He would require rest before another attempt such-like. Until horizontal, he feels cloudy, his instincts dulled.

This gave a hint as to what went on behind the wizard's curtain, to coin a phrase. Patrons eager for good tidings sat wide-eyed while Shiree asked the birds. Robin, breast inked with Christblood, what is prophesied. Wag tail bouncing by the brook, what whispers the ripples. Crow, sagely corvid, obsidian Prince, permit me thy portents.

Of course the owl, a favourite, offering a circular view of all creation. When the Persian asks, the birds respond. Their caws yield the secrets of creation and knowledge of all men. Never anything less than grizzly; visions of starving farmers prying open the coffins of dead children to pry rings from fingers; wives blood-soaked, trowel in hand. He spares the unwashed masses the true horror of their cosmic destiny.

Shiree is sick of the circus. Sick of howling faces, cackling hyenas. Laughter contorts the face and makes apes of men. He hatee acrobats, envying their sprightliness, making him further loathe his twisted form.

He hates clowns most. Hates being considered among their number. In the ancient world clairvoyants were elevated to high societal positions, close to the ears of pharaohs. To converse with the Gods was to become a God. Present culture did not glorify his gifts.

Following the mummer's trail, Shiree enters the woodland with its churchlike vaulted ceiling. Trees, every length and thickness meet, forming a thick umbrella. Ducking between the sturdy boughs, he emerges at the familiar clearing. Evidently some thought went toward its selection, situated inside a natural ridge formed by mossy stones and thick entanglements of spadelike hogweed. He locates the remnants of Bozo's passing. Inside a stone circle shining with mica, embers glow. 

For the site of Bozo's demise, he chose a festering swamp, planning to nestle in the brackish swell, sink beneath the algal covering and bide his time until the moment struck. Where else could Bozo go but through?

He rests a while in the wooden cloister, the heat of its former occupant present still. At last restored to peak wickedness, he follows a trail of single bootprints, as if tracking some unilegged abomination to its marshy abode - the wounded Grendel toward his domain lurches.

Shiree came to the boundary shore between mulch and black mud, marking the forest's domain from that of the festering swampland. Bloated and buzzing, enormous bloodsuckers make homes among the roots. Corklike reeds project from the silty banks across its breadth like tangled crossbeams give the illusion of security. Truly if one fell, a proper tumble necessitating outside agency, any branch grasped would snap like an old man on a rugby pitch.

Amphibious lizards wait, half buried in the silt like filthied statues, snapping should any shoal of lesser denizens dawdle. A menagerie of killers for the wizard to choose from.

Shiree enthrones, planning evilly from his newfound eyrie. He utters incantations blunt and meandering, each to the same fatal design. Feeling the hard surface against his backside, he wants vengeance all the more. That a man such as he should be forced to take counsel on a boulder was insult enough to warrant retribution.

It would be a crime of passion, a passion of crimes. He tosses back his head and met a beautiful sight. However the canopy met, with its various dips, hollows and straightways like avenues on a map, the carved light met him in golden bars.

This will do, he smirks.

[monkeystrokes9]

I'm not a bad guy, really. I just get carried away. Trickster by trade with an unfortunate knack for choosing the wrong ones and taking them too far. A hot foot that sets a house afire, a pop out of a cake that gives some geezer a stroke.

Anyway, no reason to lock a guy up. But here I am with every other backfiring joker—pucks, reynards, zomos, Sly Peters and other assorted pusses-in-boots—in the high-walled and moated Mischief Correctional for Sly Crimes and Mythdemeanors, all because some judge is too humdrum to appreciate a nice fat kipper in the Magistrate’s sock drawer.

Medium security for most of us, excepting the bad’un witchipoos and sorcerers under Maximum in Spell Block #9, with potion detectors, etcetera. But here, life ain’t so bad once you get used to the Penrose staircases.

Naturally, the guards have absolutely no sense of humor. Everyone finds a way to cope. I bite my tongue a lot. The gremlins throw things. The leprechauns stay drunkenly morose on rotten-fruit toilet wine.

They call me “Shorty the Imp,” with a fireplug stature, and burnt-orange shag carpet sideburns down to my dimples. After a lifetime of pulling old age home fire alarms and squirting lapel flowers of Holy Water at the Archbishop, I’ve seen my share of shenanigans, but nothing close to what Guy pulled.

He was prodded into my cell one morning by a guard wearing an expression like Medusa’s stylist with a “Get cozy, bozos.”

“Name’s Guy,” the newbie said, proffering a shake, then yanking back his hand to slick his age-inappropriate pompadour. His lanky frame towered over me, eighteen hands high.

“Shorty,” I says, giving him a quick wedgie to show who’s in charge.

Guy was nicked after sending a wax impression of his arse to the Queen on the solstice. We hit it off like bacon and beans. A fair-to-middling cribbage player, quick with a knock-knock or off-color limerick (A cunning lass flying Aer Lingus…), and a good Guy indeed.

An odd duck nonetheless, forever pestering the library monk for old periodicals, back issues of Trebuchet Digest, Ming Dynasty-era Chinese phone books and such. His eating habits peculiar as well, with a partiality for biscuits—nothing but.

Guy would nibble a corner and squirrel away the rest, like winter was nigh. Never saw him eat nothing else, swapping his fatback and turnips for my biscuits.

Lichen climbed the walls as days passed. I worried about my new friend. He’d dieted himself down to a swizzle stick. “You getting ‘nuff to eat there, Guy?”

“Oh yes,” he’d answer with a toothy smile, “I’m getting down to fighting weight right proper.”

And then one night, long after lights out, as snorty snoozing wafted through the cellblock, I woke from a dream of making whoopee on a cushion by sounds of rustle and slosh.

I struck a match. Below, an avalanche of stale biscuits spilling out of his slit mattress, a rat’s nest of ripped periodicals, and Guy, elbows pumping, making a mush in the cell’s rust-tinged washbasin sink.

In a hop he blew out the flame, putting a gummy hand over my gob, finger to his lips. “Not a peep, sir. It’s been a swell little party, mate, but it’s time I skedaddled.”

My thick, flame-colored eyebrows are second only to my sideburns in splendor, and even in the shadows, Guy plainly saw them raise in query.

“Daddy was a yanker of chains and tablecloths, but Mum was a shapeshifter. Miraculously, it’s not on my record. These turnkeys keep shabby files. Here I am can turn meself into a kite string, sitting around here essentially free as a duck scoring one for the nobs. You’ve been a breath of fresh, Shorty. Good for the ol’ morale, what. So I stuck around. But now I gots to go.”

Digesting this news like a competitive turkey-leg eater, I choked on the concept. Shapeshifter. I’d heard of the species, but assumed it medieval bunk.

“Nothing gaseous of course. Solids.” Guy nodded toward the small floor drain twixt the sink and toilet, “And liquids.”

He gave my shoulder a squeeze and fluffed my pillow. “In the morning you’ll find a papier-mâché sculpture of me sleeping tight. Buy me some time to get downstream. But when the boys get wise, and sneeze powder hits the fan, be sure to tell them my little secret.”

Morning broke with a nightstick clanging the bars, shaking my fillings. I bolted upright, the pom-pom of my nightcap bouncing off the ceiling.

A handful of frantic guards conferred beside Guy’s bunk, alternating stink eyes from my sleep-wrinkled face to the body double of Guy. I peeled a crusty eye at the handiwork. A mite thicker than the real Guy, but the features were spot on down to the nostrils.

A guard cuffed my ear. “Awright, what’s this all about?”

I pointed to the thin line of water streaming from a rumpled pile of prisoner’s stripes to the drain. “Bars can’t hold a shapeshifter, Guv. You boys bungled it.”

I didn’t get a new roommate, but a week later, a note in my porridge.

Shorty!

Took me long enough to cook up the shapeshifter ruse but what a stroke of G. To think I could cover myself in flour-coated newsprint, play possum, and fool them into carrying me out with the rubbish. Stiffened in my shell there was risk of the incinerator of course, but the rats chewed me free toot sweet and I sprang into the world bare-ass and blinking like the day I was born.

Can you believe in this age anyone could actually swallow that shapeshifter hoo hah? (No offense.) Still, I’m flabbergasted the goons fell for it. Has somebody been reading too much Sir Terry or what?

P.S. I’m coming for you tomorrow night. No sense in a jolly chap as yourself left to rot when there are so many misguided pranks to pull. No fretting, I’ve got a plan. Stuff yourself in a pillowcase and keep an eye out for the laundry man wearing a funny nose and glasses.

We’re outta here.

Peaches and pints,

Guy

[rex101111]

Punching in the Right Direction-chapter 1:

Another fic! :D And this time one with more then one chapter hopefully! Got this idea a while back during a conversation with @hatefilledpoptarts and I thought it was cool, but my computer dying almost cost me the whole thing, but thankfully I was able to retrieve it! (along with a bunch of other stuff) So! Here’s a thing I hope you like it!

In a police station in Shibuya, a very tired man is hunching over the front desk, his forehead pressed to the polished wood and his cap to the side of him, one of his hands rubbing the back of his neck while the other hung behind the face of the desk.

The day was long, tedious to the point of tears, and more than anything else, uneventful. No stray pickpocket being dragged kicking and screaming to be written up and thrown in a cell for a month, no big busts or emergencies to speak of involving any more huge villain outbreaks, and because of this continuous streak of nothing his superiors thought it would be a good idea for him to spend the copious amount of time he had to sort through a veritable mountain of overdue paperwork from around the station that have built up over the last few months.

On the one hand he privately considered it tantamount to torture, but on the other he couldn’t help but be a bit grateful that something like what happened in the Kamino ward wasn’t plowing through the station, give and take.

He had just finished about half an hour ago, with the help of a few friendly civilian workers and more than a few near screams of frustration, and his shift would end an hour after that, so right now all he wanted was for the day to continue being a bore for just that long so he wouldn’t have to add on overtime on top of that.

But, as these things tend to turn, a fairly muscle bound man decided that this was the perfect time to enter to enter the station, by way of kicking the door open, and make the day just a bit more eventful.

He was large in every sense of the word; he was at least seven feet tall, broad shouldered with arms like raw iron pipes and legs like tree trunks, muscles seeming to bulge on every surface visible to the eye, and there was plenty to see considering he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and as soon as he entered the station his presence seemed to fill the whole room.

The fact that his entrance had every single officer in the building pointing guns at him didn’t diminish how suffocating his simply being present had felt.

His myriad of flame red bruises and mildly bleeding cuts that covered his whole torso weren’t much help either.  

He looked back and forth between all the wary officers, pointedly ignoring their command to put his hands up as he scratched his almost comically square chin, grunting, “….So,” He started making every person in the room jump and making one policeman fire off a shoot, which sailed over the large man’s head without him even acknowledging it, “This is a police station yeah?”

Nobody answered him properly, only more demands for him to put his hands over his head.

He sighed, “Oh for fuck’s sake…” He turned around to look behind him, “Kid, you try talking to these bozos.”

Among the screaming of the officers, a tiny figure emerged from behind the man’s legs, her small stature being compounded by the immediate comparison to the muscle bound individual, and she peeked nervously at the people around her shouting, and found that she couldn’t gather the courage to speak.  

Not that she needed to, as soon enough people started noticing her, and how close she was standing to the intruder, some started quietly lowering their guns, a few others tried to beckon her closer to what they considered safety, only the tired policeman at the front desk, whose tired day slowed down his reaction considerably, was able to fully comprehend the situation.

Well, as much as can be gleaned about it anyway.

He cleared his throat, earning him the attention of both the police officers and the two visitors, “Can…can I…help you…sir?”

The man in question sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his head, “Fucking finally, someone who doesn’t want to kill me today,” He looked straight at the front desk, “Yeah! The name’s Kendo Rappa, I’m here to turn myself in!”

His announcement caused a great deal of confusion in the room, whoever didn’t lower their firearms already did so, and the front desk clerk was fairly stumped himself, but decided to roll with it, taking out the proper forms while nodding numbly, before something occurred to him, “Wait…what about the girl?”

“Oh?” He looked down at the girl, who was now clutching the fabric of his torn pants, the horn on the side of her head digging a bit into his sore leg as she clung to it, but he ignored that and just pointed down to her, “She’s Eri, she’s why I came here,” He gestured vaguely around the room, “Y’know, to turn myself in.”

The clerk nodded his head slowly, keeping his eyes on the girl as she seemed to keep to her position next to Rappa with no intention to budge, before returning his gaze to the man, “Alright, but what do you want us to do with her?”

Kendo opened his mouth, only to stop short to scratch at his chin again. He did this a few more times, unintentionally defusing what little tension there still was in the room before his just rubbed the back of his head, his face tired and a bit annoyed, “Shit…” He muttered between his teeth, just barely loud enough to be carried across the room, “I don’t fuckin’ know, didn’t think I’d make it this far.”

The clerk stares at him for a few long moments, before he takes out the rest of the forms needed for the processing of new inmates, already seeing the overtime he would need to punch in because of this, hoping the chief would see fit to send him home before it got too dark.

----

Of course, that there is only how our story begins to wrap up, so the question remains, what led up to it?

The short answer being that it started a few months before, miles away from the station, and miles more below the concrete of the bustling streets.

It started with Rappa, still wearing the heavy black mask that donated his position as one of the mighty Eight Expendables in service to the Eight Precepts, walking around the hallways of the base out of hair pulling boredom.

It started with Eri running into his legs at full tilt, the impact causing her to fall on her backside, her eyes shooting up to gaze up at this massive tower of muscle and blood lust that was Kendo Rappa, utter terror making her shake where she lays.

It started with Chisaki calmly catching up to her looking down on her with a gaze only fit for a lamb meant for slaughter, before raising his gaze to meet Rappa’s wilted mask, “Thank you Rappa, you just saved me a few hours chasing her down,” He leered back down at Eri, “Come Eri, enough messing around, we’ve things to do.”

It started with Rappa noticing how utterly desperate and afraid this girl is, how she gets up as slow as she can, shivering all the way up, to face Overhaul, slowly following him back with a lowered head.

It started with Eri throwing Rappa a look that was as loud as a shrill scream at the top of the lungs, seeming to beg for help.

It started with Rappa walking away, averting his eyes from the girl, the clenching in chest that he gets from her eyes pissing him off. He takes long, heavy strides, and just keeps going and going until he runs out of breath, an hour passing like nothing.

It starts a few moments afterward, when that clenching refused to go away, and the memory of the silently screaming look she gave him burning on the back of his eyelids.

----

Weeks pass, and in that time Rappa comes to a fairly belated discovery.

He doesn’t know a damned thing about Overhaul’s plan. Well, that wasn’t completely true, he knew a few snippets of it, some random details that together provided a fairly nebulous picture of the end goal of the Eight Precepts, but he doesn’t know enough, not enough to really be invested one way or another, not enough to inspire in him this burning loyalty that every other Expendable had for the bird faced prick.

There was one very simple reason for that, Rappa didn’t give a shit. Not about the Precepts, not about Overhaul, not about whatever lofty dream they were all supposedly chasing. Not one, single, solitary shit.

At least…he wasn’t supposed to. He wasn’t there to serve at the pleasure of some germaphobe who was looking to bring back the “glory days of the Yakuza”, he was there to punch a dude’s teeth in, kill him, and then kill anyone who tried to stop him while he was on his way out, that was the plan, his plan, and it was a damned good one as far as he saw it.

Or at least it was a few months ago when he “joined” the Precepts, now he was beginning to realize he should have thought about it more.

Headache inducing hindsight aside, the fact was Rappa was stuck; the one person who he wanted to kill in this entire place only gave him a chance at him rarely, and always on his terms, and he was surrounded by a bunch of morons who thought this asshole with a beak stuck to his face was the bloody second coming, and took every opportunity to remind him of that whenever he dared to do something as audacious as speaking his mind.

All this put together piqued his curiosity a bit, but never enough to make him actually care to ask exactly what it was Overhaul planned to do.

And then he ran into a scared little girl, and now Rappa couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t stop wondering what the hell this girl had to do with anything, why Overhaul himself seemed to grant his undivided attention to her.

Couldn’t stop wondering why she was so damned scared.

To his infinite frustration, Kendo started giving a shit, and as most things tend to do, it pissed him off.

So he did what he always did when he was pissed off, he looked for something, or more preferably someone, to punch. Today, that person was Tengai.

“Think fast asshole!”

A series of bellowing crashes bounced around the room, random grunts still fresh to the Precepts fleeing from the sound as quickly as they could, a few veterans only speeding up their stride a bit to gain some distance, Rappa was known for his temper, so this was not an uncommon sight by any means, but that didn’t diminish the spectacle of Rappa throwing a hail of lightning fast strikes towards one of their own, the impacts shaking the concrete walls of the complex like a dozen canons going off at once for each hit.

The barrier monk noted that Rappa was especially pissed today, seeing that he was putting considerably more force into his strikes than usual, even throwing a few curse words between the punches, he raised his brow as he saw the maniac start to breathe heavily and just keep punching, like he was trying to work something else out besides his temper.

He calmly put down the book he was reading, looking straight at Rappa, silently putting his palms together as he spoke up, “Feeling stressed today Rappa?”

“Shut the fuck up!” Kendo screamed, throwing a particularly harsh punch smashing into the monk’s barrier, “Ain’t in the mood for your pseudo-Buddha bullshit!”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Tengai observed, “Though that would invite the question of why you’re so stressed?”

“I said shut up!”

The barrage continued for another few minutes, the raging man slowly winding down until his fists hung limply at his sides, a few droplets of blood seeping through his gloves, and Tengai spoke up again, “Whatever it is, it must be fairly serious, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this riled up before.”

Rappa breathed heavily for a few more moments, before slumping down a nearby wall, making a point of not looking at Tengai, “Nothin’, just been a shitty couple of weeks.”

Tengai only raised his eyebrows at that, “You just spent the last ten minutes pounding away at my barrier while screaming your head off,” He said, tone even and unimpressed, “I think ‘shitty’ would be putting it lightly.

Rappa didn’t respond, only continued to look at the wall ahead of him, only caring to put his breathing back in order.

Tengai sighed, picking up his book again, “Fine,” He muttered easily, “Keep sulking like a child if that’s what you want to do,” He flipped pages until he came back to where he was before, “No skin off my back.”

They’re quiet for a long moment, motes of dust floating in the air and tiny chunks from the ceiling falling around them, either bouncing off Tengai’s shield or swatted away by Rappa’s hands. For that long moment, Rappa only stared ahead at the wall, before finally breaking the silence with a shake of the head, “Met a girl a few weeks back.”

Tengai didn’t even lift his eyes from the page he was on, “How sweet.”

“A little girl.”

“How disgusting.”

Rappa whipped his head towards the monk and rapped the back of his knuckles on his shield, “Not like that you jackass!” He huffed while he flexed his sore fingers, “In the base I mean, a little girl with white hair and a horn sticking out the side of her head running around, you know her?”

This time Tengai did lift his eyes to meet Rappa, looking slightly alarmed, “Of course I know her, that’s Eri!” He put the book down again without bothering to mark his page, “What was she doing running around?”

Kendo shrugged, “Fuck if I know, looked pretty scared though,” He scratched his chin, “Was even more scared when Overhole caught up to her and took her some place, ”He looked more intently at Tengai, who breathed in relief when he mention the girl being taken, “What’s his deal with her anyway? She his daughter or something?”

Tengai blinked, and gave Rappa a look of utter amazement, “Do you ever pay attention to anything?”

Another strike crashed against the invisible shield, “Do you want a broken jaw?”

A long suffering sigh escaped Tengai, “Eri isn’t his child…though she is important to him,” He looked straight into the eyes of Rappa’s mask, “In fact; she is the very cornerstone on which he is building his plans.”

Rappa paused, choking down his reflex to call out Tengai on bullshitting him, “The hell are you talking about?”

Tengai began to speak more passionately, as the rest of the Expendables tended to do when discussing anything having to do with Overhaul, “Overhaul has made a wondrous discovery in Eri, within her lays a quirk that will serve as the lynchpin of the ascension of the Precepts to the top of the criminal world.”

Rappa couldn’t hold it in, laughter shaking him as Tengai’s speech went on, only to burst when he mentioned her quirk, “Okay, now I know you’re full of crap.” He shook his head, thinking back to when he met Eri, “The kid I met was a spindly little twig,” With eyes so desperate he still can’t forget them, he fails to mention, “What? Can she make nukes out of her tears or some shit?”

Tengai visibly deflates at the sound of Rappa’s mocking and laughter, huffing as he narrows his eyes at him, “Nothing quite so crude…although,” He picks up his book again, tiring of Rappa, “I think it’s fair to say that she has the most powerful quirk in the world.”

Rappa clicked his tongue, “Full of shit, no way, no way that a kid that-“ (scared, tired, small) “-weak can have a quirk that damn strong.”  

Tengai just keeps on reading, his generosity regarding his attention and time having apparently run out, even making a point of making a shooing motion with one of his hands as he turned a page.

Rappa stares at him for a moment, huffs, and throws one more punch his way before stomping his way out.

The nagging feeling in his chest morphs and shifts, becoming an itch on the back of his head.

No helping it now, if he’s already giving a shit, might as well scratch it.

-----

Chisaki Kai sits at his desk inside his personal office, looking over various files, his eyes roaming across the pages slowly and carefully.

Recent purchases of “Trigger”, info on new recruits, and most importantly of all, developments in regards to his most important project. He scans the information on those pages far more carefully than even the others, making sure he commits to memory what has been discovered so far and the progress yet to be made.

As he formed his actions for the rest of the day regarding that progress in his head, he hears a commotion outside his door.

“Get out of my way, need to talk to Overho. “

“Rappa you can’t just-“

“Out of my way.”

“Overhaul is too busy right-“

“I said-“

Overhaul knocked on the metal surface of his table twice, stopping the noise, “Come in Rappa.”

A moment passes, his guard shuffling out of the way as Rappa nearly knocked the door of its hinges as he opened it, peering down the beak of his mask at his so called "boss." He could see Chronostasis lean forward to look inside, one of his hands twitching near his gun.

Chisaki shifted his eyes slightly in his direction, which made him stiffen in place before leaning back away from view. He then shifted his eyes back up to look at Rappa, who had still not said a word since he entered, which was strange in every sense, considering his temperament.

"Can I help you Rappa?"

"The fuck are you planning?"

….well, this could be interesting.

[thegreatnyehehe]

A Winter Veil Carol: Part 5

And with the unfestive fiend’s descent into hell, we can assume that this fiend has finally received his long-awaited comeuppance! One of those open-ended endings, I suppose? Surely, it is a true cautionary tale for those whom are wicked and miserly! Sad, of course, but a wonderful lesson! Well, that’s the end, of it, then. Hope you enjoyed it, children!

...

Oh? Oh!

Hoho! Looks like the last few pages were stuck together! Perhaps this The Great Nyehehe fellow may be redeemed after all! Let’s take one last peek into  Chrrgglls Drrrkggnss’s “A Winter Veil Carol!” Hope you enjoy it, children!

The flames of the deepest pits of the fire region of the elemental plane consumed The Great Nyehehe, burning every fleck of flesh upon him to ash, reducing his bones  to brittle. A horrible, raging fire took him, and the old fool had perished from the universe forever. The inferno was the final end for the legendary fable of the madman, The Great Nyehehe.

And then he woke up.

“Bah!!” 

The Great Nyehehe jumped up with a start, terrified but immensely relieved that he was, in fact, not dead, but back in his own ‘Evil Lair’, relatively safe and sound. “Oh, by the Light!!” he cheered to himself, uncharacteristically religiously.

“The spirits!! They were true, and they were real!! Oh, Maldy!! Oh, spirits!! Nyehehe!!” yelled The Great Nyehehe ecstatically. He was alive after all!

But then, a thought came to him, and he popped out from behind his dirty nook in the Cathedral Square of which he resided in, peering around. His eyes found a hulking, shambling abomination standing beside a lone Death Knight, whom was very distracted checking his mail eagerly for a Winter Veil party invitation. Nyeh called out to it, “You there!! Boy!!”

“Wot, me?” moaned the undead golem of flesh and formerly living souls as he stomped closer, having failed to realize he had just been mistaken for an average human child.

“Nyes!! You!! What day is it, good child?” Nyeh yelled out to it.

“Why, eet’s Weenter Veil!” blubbered out the abomination, having no real sense of time or appropriate knowledge of something as complex as a calendar, but it recognized all the pretty lights and Winter Veil trees well enough.

"How incredibly dastardly!! Er... How nice!! The Great Nyehehe hasn’t missed Winter Veil!! The spirits did it all in one night!! Nyes, they can do anything they please!! Nyehehe!!” cackled Nyeh as he pranced around gleefully.

“Mmmhmmm...” mumbled the abomination dumbly, its sight steering elsewhere out of slight boredom and a very low attention span.

“Oh!! Nyes!! Do you know the Cratchcrank household of 12710 Swindle Street on the isle of Kezan?” 

The abomination took its attention back to Nyeh, “Nope.”  

“Perfect!! Go there, and fetch some medicine for Tiny Tib!!” Nyeh exclaimed, far too consumed by joy, rather than by fire as he had believed not two minutes ago, to realize what the abomination had answered with.

“What medicine?” wondered the brely sentient wall of flesh.

“All of it!! Obviously!! Now, off with you to Tiny Tib to deliver the medicine!!” demanded Nyeh before bursting into another joyous jig, “And take The Great Nyehehe’s spare sack from last year’s evil scheme of stealing Winter Veil!! The Great Nyehehe shan’t be committing any further wicked acts such as that anymore, so it shan’t be of any use to him!!”

‘D’okay!” the abomination burped as it ran off to blindly follow the old madman’s order, stumbling and bumbling on the way with Nyeh’s empty red sack in one of his stubby hands.

 Having finished checking his mail, as well as sorrowfully accepting the fact that he’d likely never get that invite to the big upcoming Winter Veil party due to his current condition as a corpse, the abomination’s Death Knight master had been looking around for his near-mindless servant. When the abomination had totally ignored his order, “Stop!”, the Death Knight had began to run off behind him, in a futile attempt to catch it. Despite its immense size, the abomination sure was swift!

“Light guide you, small child!! And merry WInter Veil!!” called out Nyeh after them. “Now, to make things right with all those The Great Nyehehe had wronged!!” he vowed to himself as he donned his old Father Winter’s hat he had stitched together the previous year.

And then, The Great Nyehehe began his not-crooked crusade for redemption. He put his very soul into each festive song he sang with the Winter Veil carolers he had intimidated away just yesterday, though admittedly he was comparatively very dissonant with the rest of the group, his singing voice was admittedly quite wretched. 

Furthermore, he gave plenty of gold to charity,...

He gifted toys and presents to orphans...

He gave a present even to the officers of the Stormwind City Guard, of whom they had both shared a rather heated past. Truly, he had changed for the better.

And to further support his redemption, The Great Nyehehe had turned to religion, becoming a devout and faithful believer in the Light! No longer did he claim to be superior to the Light, nor any deity, or truly to be better than anyone else. He was fully forgiven of his sins by Brother Arthur, whom had taken over Bishop Farthing’s duties after the good bishop had mysteriously disappeared during his inconspicuous trip to the Tirisfal Glades.

The Great Nyehehe had vowed to redeem himself, and he was better than his word. He had seen the error of his ways. He became a generous, humble, kindly, and loving man for the rest of his days. He became as good a friend. as good a priest, and as good a man as the good old city of Stormwind ever had!

And it was always said of him that The Great Nyehehe knew how to keep Winter Veil spirit well and alive throughout the whole year! 

...

Or... that WOULD have been what they had said, had the following event not occurred, which it unfortunately and undoubtedly did. 

“Nai-hee-hee!” cheered the Draenei sincerely, “It is so good to see that you have turned over a new leaf! I am so proud of you,  Nai-hee-hee!” The Draenei then made a tragic mistake, and gave Nyeh a congratulatory slap on the back. 

Though the Draenei had considered it to have been a rather light and playful gesture, The Great Nyehehe reacted comparatively dramatically and fell right over. Whether it was due to the Draenei indeliberately using a surplus amount of strength he was unaware he had, The Great Nyehehe’s ironic and immense frailty despite his earlier view of himself as an unstoppable deity, or a mixture of both, the slap left The Great Nyehehe tumbling down the stairs and his head colliding harshly with the hard, white pavement of the Cathedral.

When he had came to, it had seemed that the ensuing concussion had left The Great Nyehehe feeling nauseous, discombobulated, and, once again, seeing things.Most importantly, it had left him with a vastly different view of the world: the exact same one he had not just yesterday, on The Great Nyehehe had seen the error of his ways! Again!

Raving and rambling, Nyeh had thought aloud to himself “The proper way of celebrating Winter Veil isn’t being kind or generous or festive, obviously!! It is to be even more villainous and wicked to combat the season’s tidings of goodwill with evil schemes, dastardly deeds, and acts of hate!! Oh, how wrong The Great Nyehehe was to ever think that being a goody two-shoes would ever aid him in the slightest!! Drat those spirits!! Drat them all!!”

And The Great Nyehehe went against his earlier word, and went to make wrong again all the wrongs he had literally just righted. 

He stole from charity...

He had took back the toys and presentshe had given to orphans...

He had even forcibly taken back the present he had propounded to the officers of the Stormwind City Guard, of whom they shared a now even more heated and less friendly relationship than before...

And to further renounce his redemption, he cursed the Light, dratted the church, and imprecated all forms of goodness, heroism, and love on Azeroth and within the universe. “Curse you, you lousy Light and your clueless clergy and cretinous crusaders!! Bah!!” Nyeh swore at the Church building itself with a hateful shake of his fist.

There was one, almost heroic deed that The Great Nyehehe could not make wrong again, however, was when he had ordered a Death Knight’s abomination servant to deliver medicine to Tiny Tib of the Cratchcrank household at 12710 Swindle Street on the isle of Kezan, The abomination had no idea what medicine it was the sickly goblin child had needed, so the hellish simpleton had ransacked the homes, laboratories, and bathrooms of various alchemists, apothecaries, priests, and engineers, leaving dozens of years of work between them all down the drain. Luckily, he had unwittingly found an antidote after storming through the hut of a Gurubashi Witchdoctor who never quite got over the death of Soulflayer Hakkar. Still, his presence was not immediately met with welcome by the Cratchcrank family.

“Stay behind me, kids!” directed Ms. Cratchcrank, all three of them, as well as her husband Bozo, immediately following suit fretfully.

“Mama, I’m scared!” peeped one of Bozo’s daughters, the other screeching in agreement.

“G-Get ‘em, dear!’ whimpered Bozo.

“Stop” uselessly demanded the Death Knight to his abomination, having been running just behind after his near-mindless servant in atttempt to catch it, the wall of flesh being just out of reach each time. As mentioned earlier, despite its immense size, the abomination sure was swift!

“Shush, honey! Now, you monstrous brute, what are you doing knocking down OUR door on Winter Veil of all-” scolded Ms. Cratchcrank as though she was nagging a boy that had been playing too carelessly around her garden rather than a half-sentient wall of flesh and souls, before she was interrupted. 

“Medicine for Tiny Tib.” the abomination burped, indifferent to the family’s fear.

Popping out from behind his mother and willing to try and anything, Tiny Tib, WHO DID NOT DIE, piped up “Oh? Why didn’t you just say so, then?” Tiny Tib chugged down the antidote after the abomination had handed it to him. He then did a wonderful little diddy of a dance with his now working legs cheerily to celebrate, his parents and sisters awestruck. 

Tiny Tib was now perfectly healthy, and the very next week Bozo was promoted from a mid-level accountant to mid-high level accountant, which despite being only a single level above mid-level accountant paid far more handsomely. The Cratchcranks lived happily forever after, never even knowing the name of The Great Nyehehe.

“Drat, drat, and double drat!!” the old fool roared into the air, his stolen goods hoarded in his Evil Lair, “The Great Nyehehe drats all those spirits a nyehehillion times over!! How dare they try to trick The Great Nyehehe into becoming a goodie two-shoes!! And now he can’t even intercept that blasted child from delivering that moronic medicine!! Curses!!”

Far above Nyeh’s head, upon the yellow-tinted roofs of the Cathedral District, the spirits looked down upon their wayward student whom had refused their teaching so strongly with great disappointment.

“Well, the testing session for Operation didn’t seem to work. If we can’t even persuade our one, some foolish old madman to become good, how could we ever trick the faction leaders into trying to call for peace with the Legion?” sighed the first spirit.

“Guess we’ll have teh call off the real thing. Why even botheh tryin’ et on Sylvanas er Anduin at this point.” muttered the second spirit bitterly.

“In that case, can we take off these stupid disguises? These weights are killin’ my shoulders!” complained Maldy, rattling his chains.

The third spirit nodded in agreement.

“Ach, fine. Don’t matter much now anyhow.”

*POOF!*

“Ah, we feel so much better now that we don’t have to look like some prude elf!”  admitted the succubus as her illusion faded.

“Well, now tha’ tha’s all done, yeh guys wanna go terrorize some Orphans?” suggested the hulking felguard to his fel fellows, failing to realize he was still speaking in the Dwarvish accent of his illusion.

“Ah, wait, guys, one more thing...” interjected the Imp, whom had not a moment ago been the nonliving phantom of the former Tradeprince Maldy.

“Merry Winter Veil, everyone!!”

“...”

“What was that fer?” thought the second spirit aloud.

“I... I have no idea... I just had the urge to say that... as though that was the only way this all could end...” shuddered the Imp.

~The End.~

I’m utterly amazed, children. What a book! That was, undoubtedly...

The worst book I have ever read! Ugh... remind me to re-gift this for next Winter Veil, children. I probably should have just read ‘T’was the Night before Winter Veil’, anyway... Anyone care for some hot cocoa?