#babs i owe you my life *bows*

[theangrypomeranian]

me rn

Safe and Sound by @theangrypomeranian

When Tina Belcher is reaped for the Hunger Games, she's sure that her life is over. But when Zeke Tisdale volunteers as the male tribute and promises to protect her in the arena, she realizes that she might have a chance of surviving this...if she can avoid falling for him.

[iamtheshriekingguineapig]

Per an ask and response that was had between @princesssakurasylveon and I, here are my headcannons for Dante as a dad (with a little OC propaganda)

Dadte Headcannons~

you cannot tell me that Vergil had an oopsie child as a teen and Dante didn't. They share the same brain cell and neither of them were using it for safe sex practices.

Thus, Dante ends up as a single teen dad.

He doesn't know about his little girl at first; his baby mama ghosted him, thinking he wouldn't be a good father and deciding to work it out on her own

And before Yemen ni Gru, she'd have been right; but after Yemen ni Gru and after Vergil's fall, Dante's a changed person and his priorities have been realigned

Don't get me wrong, he's still a punk teen, but he's lost his only family left and there is a void left behind

Add on the trauma of him finding out his estranged ex got killed by demons

Enter in smol bab

At first, he panics and doesn't know what to do with her. It's clear she's his, no doubt about it- but he doubts himself and his ability to care for her. He thinks of putting her up for adoption, but he can't bear for her to grow up feeling alone like he did.

Stressed Dad Dante has entered the chat

He calls Lady for help all the time. Poor guy doesn't even know how to change a diaper at first

But he tries So Hard.

He learns everything he can. He documents her life on a second hand video camera and becomes the king of home movies. He sings her to sleep with Nirvana and her first baby blanket is a band t-shirt.

They become inseparable. He dresses her up in a mix of pink bows and skulls.

Lady becomes her surrogate aunt, and most of the money Dante ends up owing her is for stuff for his kid. Lady stops keeping track.

He puts his baby girl first; he skips meals so she can eat, he takes extra jobs to pay for school supplies and birthday gifts.

They truly become best friends, and stay that way even in her teenage years, and she's the spitting image of him. They bond over their love of pizza, strawberry sundaes, and hard rock. They pull the same flashy antics and have the same quirky sense of humor

She's a daddy's girl through and through.

He raises her to embrace both her humanity and her devil side, and to use the powers she has to protect others who can't protect themselves.

Overall he's a chill dad; the fun dad. The Devil May Cry becomes the place to hang out for all her friends

Dante ends up unofficially adopting all of them too

I have way more but this one post is already Hella long enough so if people are interested I'll do more later. Thanks Sylvie!

[thefanficmonster]

Inky Memories

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, Drug Use (Past), Domestic Violence (Past), Shoplifting (Past)

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: Tattoos can reveal a lot about a person. What will Y/N’s tattoos, which she has kept hidden for so long, reveal to Corpse? Will it change anything between them?

Requested by Anon. If you’re reading this you know who you are 😊 Thank you for the request, hope you like what I did with it. Sorry if I made it too angsty! And my most sincere apologies for publishing it so late. Enjoy XOXO ❤

“Guys, come on now! I’m not hiding anything!“ I laugh, looking up from the comments to the camera, “You know how much I hate being embarrassed! Believe me when I say these tattoos are EMBERRASSING. I got them while I was either drunk or in my emo phase and I’m not too proud of them.“

I’m currently doing an Instagram live Q&A session that I scheduled last week. I do one every month and it’s my favorite way of connecting with my audience. An hour of chill lo-fi and questions and answers. I get really excited every time I schedule the session. My fans are such amazing people and they are all so supportive, funny, intelligent...I could go on and on about their positive qualities. One thing I’m not too fond of is their persistent curiosity. Here’s why.

Yesterday, while streaming, I got an unexpected pain in my forearm. Instinctively, I lifted my shirt sleeve to see what was wrong, flashing a few tattoos at my viewers in the process. I’ve never mentioned my tattoos to my audience, not even my boyfriend, actually, so to have this much attention on them so suddenly makes me want to hide them even more. People started commenting on them during the stream and I tried to dodge the majority of the questions, but I knew they would be inevitable during the Q&A. If the session hadn’t been scheduled for like a week at that point I maybe would’ve postponed it until the dust settled. 

“I have several. Not only on my arm.“ I only answer these vague questions. I avoid the ones that are asking details like what is depicted with the tattoos and what’s their meaning, bla, bla, bla.

Here’s the thing. I got my first tattoo when I was fifteen at this shady alley tattoo shop and I’ve been obsessed with tattoos since. I made a deal with myself to get at least one every year.

Needless to say, I’m twenty years old and have almost the same number of tattoos. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not ashamed of them. And I lied when I said they were embarrassing. I am quite happy with them, the way they look, at least. Each of them represent something different. Unfortunately, they are representative of some dark and depressing times. Times I want only the fewest of few people to know about.

“Yes, he’s here. You can’t see him, but he’s waving. He says hi.“ Corpse is the perfect distraction. My viewers love him just as much - maybe more - as they love me. 

He knows how easily I get overwhelmed by the attention and pressure of thousands of eyes on me and whenever I’m having a hard time while streaming all he has to do is walk in my recording room and just say the most random thing. Recently, his go-to phrase has been ‘Chicken wing’ and it always cracks up both me and my viewers.

Speaking of Corpse, him and I have been dating for over a year now. We moved in together a month or two before quarantine was officially a thing so we have been together 24/7. It’s scary how many things you can pick up on when you spend so much time with someone. That, of course, means he has noticed some of my tattoos. He has asked me about them, like why I cover them up and why am I so secretive about them and I’ve always been vague and indirect with my answers. He’s the sweetest and most patient person ever, so he has never pressed me with the questions, but I’m still hoping to gain the courage to reveal them to him someday.

“Thanks for tuning in, guys! See you tomorrow for my regular stream and next month for a chill hang out like this one. Love you, stay safe. Mwah!“ And with that the live video is done and I can finally breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Now we can order dinner“ I smile at Corpse who is chilling on the couch in my recording room. He looks up from his phone screen, returning my smile. “Were you recording a Behind The Scenes again?“

He does that often, not only with my Instagram lives but sometimes my streams as well. That’s actually how we revealed our relationship to our fanbases. 

He nods, “Yeah.” He pauses for a second, switching to a sitting position with his feet touching the floor. We’re almost at eye-level now. His arms snake around my waist as he pulls me closer towards him. I take the hint and settle in his lap, my legs on either side of him. “I admire how well you handled the pressure back there. I know how you feel about that topic.”

The small bit of anxiety that has started spreading throughout my chest disappears. He has that calming effect on me. Like my own personal safety blanket that’s with me at all times. “I wouldn’t have handled it so well if you weren’t here with me.” I say as I run a hand through his hair, moving a few stray curls away from his gorgeous eyes.

He shakes his head, making the strands fall back over his eyes, “It has nothing to do with me, Y/N. You are simply an amazing person, that’s all.“ His cold hand cups my burning red cheek, leaning my head down so our foreheads are touching. “Nothing could change my mind about it.“

That sentence causes a small pang in my chest. I feel like a manipulator. I’ve led this man to fall in love with me without knowing the past versions. I realize it’s incredibly manipulative of me to reveal my dark aspects only after we’re head over heels for one another, but I can live with it. If it were up to me, he’d never have to know. He would never have to find out that I’m not the amazing person he thinks I am. I have been broken countless times before and all my pieces are just glued in place. Not all of them are where they’re supposed to be and some of them are on the verge of breaking off. Just like a mirror. You can put all the pieces together but not only will you see the cracks, the shards can fall at any moment. 

My tattoos are to me as the cracks are to the mirror - evidence of my fragility and the many falls and breaks I’ve had throughout my life.

“Are you sure about that?“ I whisper, trying my hardest to engrave every detail of this moment in my mind because, after what I’m about to do, I’m afraid we might never be like this again.

The softness of his curls, his scent, his warmth, the way he makes me feel. I can hardly believe I’m risking losing all of that, but I owe him the truth.

I feel him nod against my forehead. I tense up and pull away so I can look him in the eyes. It’s hard for me to maintain eye contact especially when I’m fighting back tears. I can’t even say I’m about to lose him. I’m about to let him go. It’s up to him if he stays or decides that he deserves better.

No backing out, Y/N.

I grab the hem of my sweater and lift it up, revealing the many ink drawings on my skin. I discard the sweater on the floor, leaving me in only my bra meaning all my tattoos are on display. Not exactly all, I have some on my legs as well, but these are some of the most important ones. The ones which reveal most about who I used to be.

Corpse takes my hands, tilting my arms so he can take a better look at the tattoos that go from my wrists to the bend of my arm. His thumbs caress the tattoo on each of my wrists. “This one... “ I nod to my left wrist, “I got on my friend’s birthday. We both did. They’re matching.“ The tattoo depicts a heart with a keyhole. “She got the key.“

“I thought I had the key.“ He says, smirking up at me.

“You do now.“ I feel the pang again but this time it doesn’t go away. It’s a constant pain - a constant fear. Being scared of something inevitable is the most nerve-wracking feeling. It makes you feel small, helpless, like you’re standing aside watching your life be controlled by a force you can’t see.

Before he can break me even more, I go on, nodding to my upper arm, a little below my shoulder where there’s a rope tattoo that bends around my arm, its ends connecting in a bow, “I got this one after my shoulder healed.”

His brows furrow in concern as he tilts my head for me to look at him, “Healed from what?”

Here we go. Let the cat out of the bag. “Um....well...” I instinctively reach up to touch my shoulder, running my fingertips over the inked rope. “My dad wasn’t a very nice guy.”

I can pinpoint the second his heart breaks. I don’t want to hear what he has to say, I know it will kill me, so I just continue, moving onto the one on my other wrist where the word ‘Shadow’ is written in cursive writing, “This was my nickname in my friend group. I was the only one to never get caught shoplifting.”

The tears are gonna start rolling at any moment so I deliver the final blow, moving onto the most traumatic event, aka the tattoo on my collarbone of a heartbeat turning into a dead line and kicking up again, “This one I got after I woke up from my almost overdose.”

As if on cue, a tear falls from my eye onto his hand that’s still holding mine. My voice remains still, to my surprise, but I know it won’t be long before it too gives and breaks. I can’t look at him. I don’t want to see any sympathy or that look like he doesn’t recognize me. I feel like I’ve let both myself and him down.

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?“ he asks me in a whisper. He sounds almost hurt. “You know you can tell me anything.“

I see another tear fall, “I know. I just...didn’t want you to think any less of me.“

Again, he lifts my head so he can look me straight in the eyes. He knows how much I struggle with eye contact and how much I hate crying in front of people, he knows how vulnerable I feel when someone’s looking me in the eyes or when someone sees me cry. He also knows that he’s the only exception to that rule. He knows I never feel out of place when he’s around. 

“Think less of you? Babe, you’re a fighter like no other. You picked you life back up. You did all that on your own. You’re a warrior, Y/N.“

I smile through the tears which are now ones of joy instead of fear and dread. “I was a dumb teenager, Corpse. I had no idea what I was doing. I just wanted to get a thrill and feel something other than pain. I know I went about it the wrong way but...” he gives my hand an encouraging squeeze, “And you’re wrong, I didn’t do it all on my own.” I release his hand so I can cup his cheek. His hand comes up to cover mine as I swipe my thumb on his cheekbone, “I met you a month after I left the hospital. The rest you know. I moved to a less druggie populated part of town and I repaired my relationship with my aunt. All that time, I was balancing between the need to relapse and the will to stay alive. After I met you, that balancing act was no longer a balancing act at all. I didn’t even think about my past anymore. I was more focused on what I could be. On what I have to be to deserve to have you by my side.” 

“You will always have me on your side, Y/N. Even when you don’t want or need me there.“ With both his hands holding mine he leans forward, connecting our lips. It’s a short kiss laced with nothing but love and adoration. 

As we lay on the couch, him asking about each individual tattoo I didn’t get to tell him about, everything just seems a lot easier. Like a big area that was previously dark has suddenly turned into the brightest point of our relationship.

“I need to get that key tattooed. It’s only appropriate.“ He says, his finger tracing the heart on my wrist.

“Or an ownership deal for it. That heart’s yours, you know.“ I laugh, lifting my arm to inspect the oldest painting on my body, “It’s your favorite one?”

“No.” he shakes his head, “This is my favorite one.” he leans down and kisses the heartbeat on my collar bone. “I’m so glad it started beating again.”

“I am too.“

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus

[phantomchick]

🌻🍒 :) hope you’re doing well today

Thank you for the ask and the well wishes, you're a darling and hope you're also well.

(Apologies for the long quote it's for context)

🌻 Favorite funny quote from a published work :

Duke was laughing when a notification chimed in the chat. {Dre-B-Robbin has been disconnected from the chat by your beautiful admin Shug-R, bow to your supreme overlord lest you face a similar fate, peons.} DaxAtax:��O.o yeah he's not gonna be happy about that.  Robina: Take that Metropolis!  Shug-R: Just showing him who the real boss is. I'll add him back in l8r. Kat-R-ina: The real boss is Batman. HAVE YOU NOT BEEN PAYING ATTENTION

--------- from my old fic Getting To Know You, I still have a soft spot for that scene with the We Are Robin gang reacting to finding out Batman and Wonder Woman are dating

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🍒 Favorite sweet quote from a wip:

"She was wrong. You don't owe time as a vigilante Jay, I know it can feel like that but we do this for free because we choose to and you might not have a civilian life to worry about or split your time between like most of us do, but you still take the least time off of anyone in my rolodex, even Bruce. Even I take my share of mental health days to mope about my legs y'know?"

"You don't mope Babs, you simmer with righteous indignation."

"Damn right I do."

------------------- from my JaySteph wip Blizzard, it's a casefic I might never finish for plot reasons but I had to scrape the barrel for a sweet quote, note to self: I should write more sweet things.

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[stealther-gurl]

“Last Chance” (Artemis Crock x Bette Kane)

@betteonit asked: “Could you write an ArtyBette Harry Potter AU where Artemis is a Slytherin and Bette is an adorable Hufflepuff?”

How fortunate that I'm working on a Hogwarts AU for my ocs as well. I am attempting to do these prompts in the order they were requested, unless I get a burst of inspiration for one over the others.

Artemis frowned up at the sky as if each individual cloud had done her a great personal wrong. How could a day be so beautiful, when she was so glum?

School was over, and usually that was cause for a celebration, but for Artemis, it meant she was doomed to three months in smoggy downtown London, putting up with her sister and caring for her mother and running from her father. Hogwarts had provided a welcome escape from that life, but now that she had been sorted into Slytherin, her father would be unbearable in his efforts to twist Artemis and her sister into joining his Death-Eater gang.

Artemis had been so bitter she actually made Bette sad. Happy, kind, encouraging, sweet Bette had almost cried, and all because Artemis snapped at her. The very thought made Artemis sick, her knapsack bouncing against her back with every step she took towards the train station.

She had to find Bette quickly, and tell her that she was sorry. She owed Bette, and their friends Richard and Barbara, an explanation for her crass attitude. 

She had to tell Bette what she meant to her. She’d been holding it back all year, and if she didn’t say it soon she was going to explode.

Bette was still on the platform, helping another first-year locate their kitten. Her Blonde curls were held back by a ribbon a couple shades darker, in a perfect bow she probably tied herself. Artemis’s stomach flip-flopped as Bette’s beautiful sky-blue eyes landed on her stormy gray ones. 

“Hey,” Bette said softly.

“Hey,” Artemis mumbled, face hot. 

“I, uh, wanted to apologize.”

Bette faced her, her body open and patient, waiting for Artemis to speak.

“I, well, I was a jerk this morning.”

“You kind of were,” Bette said. When Artemis’s head snapped up from studying the wood grain, Bette was smiling kindly.

“I’m sorry!” Artemis blurted out, all explanation flying out of her mind. Why did she have to be such a schoolgirl?

“I accept your apology,” Bette said. “Now, I wanted to tell you that Bruce invited your mom to let your family stay at Wayne Manor this summer.”

Artemis’s eyes went wide. “Did she say yes?”

“Obviously!” Bette sang. “You and Jade can study with me and Babs and Rick, and even Roy pops by a few times so she won’t be entirely bored to death by us.

“Oh I can’t wait for you to see the house! I don’t even think Bruce has been in all the rooms! It’s great for hide-and-seek, and the gardens are so incredible, I think they’re even more magical than Hogwarts!”

Artemis watched as Bette did a little dance on the emptying platform.

“This...this is amazing. Why would you guys do this for us?”

Bette stopped, staring at Artemis curiously. “You’re my friend, Artemis. And you’re Rick’s friend too, which just about makes you family.”

Bette linked her arm through Artemis’s. “I care about you, silly,” she said. “Honestly you’re...you’re more than just a friend to me.”

Artemis turned bright red.

“Hey! Are you losers gonna stay here all summer or what?” Richard called from the window of the train car.

Bette smiled at Artemis, a big, genuine, shining smile that lit up Artemis’s day more than the noonday sun already was, and made her insides turn to jelly. Bette tugged her along, leading her onto the train and into the compartment with Barbara and Richard. The four opened the window all the way so they could wave to Hogwarts until the great ancient castle was out of sight.

Then the topic of conversation turned to summer. Babs and Rick recounted everything on their to do list while Bette prattled on about everything they did at the estate out on the seashore, and all the places around the manor she wanted to show Artemis.

The whole time, Artemis gripped her hand on the bench between them.

Maybe this wouldn’t be her last chance to tell her after all.