#crack fic in ask

[louvay]

Elliot x Finn. Rated E. You know, my magnum opus of a ship(wreck)!

"Give up, Sir." The insufferable nobleman sneers, glaring condescendingly at the petrified knight at his feet. How nice. He has long wanted to see this knight crumble—the blue-haired knight's presence irritates him, and... oh, dear gods. Green leaf like that, but trusted a lot. Leonsterians are laughable, as he concludes; because no way he's going to forget how carefree this doofus has been. Orbiting around Lachesis... his Lachesis! He has never seen the Nordion princess so alive before. He cannot forget the icy glares the blond siblings reserve for him, and seems to be only for him alone.

"I do not yield." The knight replies fervently. Elliot hates how Finn defies him even then. Not knowing his place then, and not knowing his place now.

"You will." With a grin, Lord Elliot commands his men to net the defeated knight in. Sir Finn winces as his lance is kicked off his feeble hands, angry yet understanding he cannot delay his capture. He looks away when Heirhein troops push him forward and bind his wrists. "Now I'm unstoppable. What should I do with your corpse? Thrown into the sea? Hmm?"

"Hey, this isn't explicit enough. You said the rating will be explicit to make even Ao3 blush!" a Heirhein troop yells. The author yawns. She knows she can do worse without glasses... with (worse) typos and grammatical errors.

「闭嘴。」

Heirhein troops, regrettably, cannot use the internet to Google. Their internet money is again used to buy Elliot's hair gel.

"Finish me off," Finn taunts. "If I must die, let me do so with honor."

"Why did you speak like that insufferable casserole son of a fucking mistletoe?" Elliot yells. "Is it enough that you hovered so close to Lachesis, but also so close to my mind and biceps?!"

"L-Lord Elliot?"

"Maybe you shouldn't die. Maybe you can lay some strawberries, like a chicken."

"Like a plant, milord."

"Ah! Chickens aren't vegan, are they?"

"Nay, milord."

"Plant! Oh, genius! Now we have an answer to make the internet happen... and I'll still get my hair gel!" Elliot announces. "I explicitly like this plan so bigly. Bing bing, my lovely. Very explicit. Real explicit. Ultimately explicit."

"But I thought I also explicitly told you that you're so insufferable and maidenless?" Finn frowns.

"Not anymore if you be my damsel, innit?" Elliot announces. "Yes... you can be my queen. Queen of 5G tower. Bigly."

"But what about my duty?" Finn asks.

"Your duty? But my darling audacious dweeb, you'll be rich at thirty and can retire early! Then we'll ride a gondola and invade Nordion together," Elliot says. "Oh, my... your arms must be tired. Let's not tie you up any longer."

"But I'm tied to a contract?" Finn strerches his newly-freed arms.

"Yes!" Elliot nods enthusiastically.

"Against my will?"

"But you're young. What do you need a will for?"

"Ah!" Finn gasps like a paleolithic maiden. "Now I love you."

"Perfect! Whose IP address we'll track first?" thus Elliot bridal-carries Finn into Heirhein castle, and the two live happily ever after. Legend says their superhuman offspring is named Melon Husk.

Bravo. Simply outstanding!

From the beginning of the battle against Herhein to the realization that chicken is indeed vegan to then at the end, the siring of the musk by the two knightly couple, it is safe to say that I have been moved to tears. The greeks believed that a tragedy was truly a comedy, I am therefore inclined to believe in the romans

[choccy-milky]

sometimes you gotta lure your overly-studious ravenclaw gf into spending time with you 🥰 📚 ( from 'Every Teardrop is a Waterfall' by Kat_12739 on ao3, GO READ IT!!! the first story is about seb falling sick and still pushing himself/not admitting he's sick until he ends up in the hospital, the second story is about the birth of seb and clora's daughter and seb's reaction to clora almost dying in childbirth, and the third is about dealing with a fussy newborn lewis😭🥹THEY'RE SO GOOD AND SWEET AND SOMEWHAT SAD (not to mention beautifully written) so go check it out!!💖💖 )

[verysium]

This is such crack brain fart idea 😶

What if some blue lock boys ask the reader what brand her shoes (or something dumb like that) over text and reader sent them a voice message on text and it’s just:

“Hi baby, okay so the brand is—- *insert car accident noises*”

Have you seen those TikToks???

If you do this request, it can be any blue lock boys you want

HELPPP i saw something similar on hinge, and i was hunched over the side of my bed laughing for like 20 minutes. in general, i don't think pranks with any of the bllk boys would go well (unless you wanted to be punted like a football, american-style) but i'm taking a risk today, so here you go:

sae sees through your bullshit in a peloponnesian minute. he has morning practice, three interviews, and a daily nap to get to, so what makes you think he has time for you to fake a car accident? leaves you on read. (brutal, i know.)

rin is mildly concerned, but he's too smart to fall for whatever prank you have planned. he'd probably reply with a sarcastic, dry ass response or a deadpan emoji. refuses to talk to you for the rest of the day because what if you actually got into a car accident? he would lose all sanity. tbh he can't stand it when people make light of serious situations even if it's just a lighthearted joke.

kaiser is petty. he sends you an official funeral invite titled "in loving memory of y/n." he personally designed it in photoshop and even added those tacky glitter rose GIF animations on the front. coincidentally, everyone in your immediate circle also happened to receive the same mass email chain with those invites, so you had to explain to your family, friends, and co-workers that (1) you did not in fact die in a car accident and (2) your funeral is not set for the 15th. (you never played a prank on michael again.)

isagi freaks out. he's calling 911/119, whatever emergency service there is. immediately calls you and nearly breaks down in fear of losing you. when you tell him it was merely a prank, he laughs in relief but internally he's cursing you out with every colorful name in existence.

ness is isagi but even more high-strung. there is no time to call the ambulance in his mind. he's already thundering down the highway looking for the evidence of your car wreck. calls you and screams ballistically into the speaker: "WHERE ARE YOU? WHERE ARE YOU? WHERE ARE YOU?" so yeah....don't ever play a prank on ness. it's for your sake, not his.

shidou takes you up one notch and sends a picture of himself in the emergency room with a cast on his leg and an IV drip. this spawn of satan took your message literally and decided to copy you and got into a real car accident. so now you have to take time off work and sign the hospital discharge papers because he listed you as his sole emergency contact.

nagi doesn't give a shit. he's already chronically online, and reo's played pranks on him before. probably texts you an "ok" and then tells you he's run out of toilet paper again, so you need to stop by the store to buy some.

reo matches your energy. he replies with: oh yeah, i've heard of that brand. it's the—*insert sound of trucks colliding and screeches across asphalt* you both had a good laugh after.

ok that's all i have for now. this is going to reach a very niche demographic, but you're welcome.

[blorbocedes]

true hate's kiss for brocedes

Toto calls just as Lewis is about to go film a vine with Kendall Jenner.

"Lewis, we need you back at the office. We have a, erm, delicate situation."

"What do you mean?"

"As you are aware of the generous Petronas sponsor gift - the cursed spindle - that sits in our factory."

"The cursed spindle which sends you to sleep for millennia, yeah."

"Well, it appears Nico has accidentally made contact with the spindle, and subsequently fallen into a deep slumber. If this is not rectified immediately, he of course cannot race this weekend."

Lewis tugs at his collar. He'd much rather be on a yacht in his free time than make the drive all the way to Brackley just to help out Nico.

"Yeah, so call his wife. True love's kiss and all that."

Toto pauses for a second. "Ah, Lewis. This isn't a cursed spindle from fairy tales," he says in a condescending tone, "Only a kiss borne from true hatred will wake him."

Oh.

If Nico sleeps through the weekend, that's Lewis' championship secured. He's sure if he was ahead in the points, Nico wouldn't wake him if the situation was reversed. Maybe. He just might, just to hold it over Lewis' head.

Lewis stops himself from saying he can't kiss him because he's a man. It's 2016, and homophobia is totally cringe. So instead, he opts for the safer: "I can't be going around kissing married men! A bunch of people hate Nico, just get one of his haters or someone from Sky Sports."

It is a part of their sport, with adoring fans comes also passionate haters.

The phone is wrestled from Toto, and the German voice of Vivian speaks through. "Lewis, I swear to god if you do not get your ass back right now to kiss my husband. I still have all the negatives from the parties from my Nokia digital camera."

Lewis winces thinking of his mid 2000s fashion. Well, that's permission from the missus.

At Brackley, Nico's on a bed breathing steadily. He totally looks like he's just asleep. Lewis isn't sure they're not pulling an elaborate prank on him.

"We'll, uh, give you some privacy." Toto closes the door where Vivian and other Mercedes employees were watching.

Nico's lips are the slightest touch of red from where, presumably, Vivian had already tried her true love luck. This better be worth it.

Lewis breathes in. Imagines Nico telling the press he didn't really lose the championship because he didn't get a fair shot, because of the curse. Implying slyly that Lewis' title is illegitimate, in that annoying know-it-all way he could spin things. He imagines Nico never waking up, forever frozen like this. It would probably make the work environment better. Never have to ignore each other over breakfast, awkwardly hold the elevator when they leave their Monaco apartment at the same time, never spend race weekends trying to stick the knife into the other, metaphorically.

Wake up, motherfucker, Lewis thinks, no love lost between them. Wake up so I can fucking beat you.

And not for the first time in his life, Lewis brushes his lips against Nico's.

Nico gasps, opening his eyes.

[m0thya]

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #105

Danny knew he wasn’t from this dimension. He wasn’t sure how he knew but it was something that he felt deep in his core that was true. Something’s just didn’t feel right sometimes and it also felt like the things that were happening were off or wrong somehow. His parents on his 15th birthday came out to tell him that he was adopted and that just cemented the feeling that he wasn’t from here. He goes to Ghost Writers library to look for anything that could help him and he finds a summoning request, basically you can request that someone summons you as long as you’ve got a vague idea of who it is. Danny asks to be summoned by his birth father.

Pick anyone from DC to be his dad but ima go with Batman for this example just because it’s Bruce LMAO. Batman suddenly gets a piece of paper that requests him summon the Ghost King and while everyone is terrified about what such an entity want’s especially since it’s Batman. Everyone is further confused when a teen gets summoned and looks around the room at all the superheroes in awe.

[sleepy-steve]

🧠🪱 Wiggly Wednesday Thursday 🧠 🪱

thank you for tagging me @stervrucht 🖤

no pressure tags: @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe @stevesbipanic and of course anyone else that would like to ♡

thinking about Steve and Eddie who, after going through rounds of physical therapy after everything, continue to work out together because Steve obviously loves it and loves having a friend to work out with. and Eddie notices the difference in his stamina when he gets back to performing on stage. (and if Eddie likes to watch Steve work out a little bit, and likes Steve coming over to help his form more than a little bit, well that’s his business.) but Steve takes a dance class and shakes up his usual warmup, leaving Eddie with some… thoughts.

***

“Okay, Munson,” Steve says, pulling his arm across his body for a shoulder stretch. “You ready?”

“Ready to be tortured? Always,” Eddie jokes. It was their thing. Eddie acts like he hates being there, but he still shows up every other day to their local gym in Indianapolis. And he won’t ever deny the benefits he’s noticed since starting their exercise regime. He's faster on stage, doesn't get winded near as easily, holding those screaming notes without feeling like his lungs will explode. Little did he know that today his joke would come to be true.

Steve liked most kinds of exercise. He was a sporty guy. He liked the pull and stretch of his muscles, the feeling of accomplishment after achieving a new goal, that delicious soreness the day after a really good workout. But mostly he loved trying new things. He’d give anything half a chance if he thought it might be fun. Which is how he ended up at a dance-aerobics class the week prior, finding himself having a lot of fun, blushing furiously when the women in the class complimented how quickly he picks up the steps.

He went back three more times that week. Part of his enjoyment came from the new warmup he was taught in the class. Steve’s usual warmup consisted of basic stretches and a light jog, covering all bases to ensure he didn’t get injured, but not very exciting.

This, however, was far more enjoyable. Steve found himself sinking deep into stretches he didn't know he had flexibility for, and moving his hips to a beat, ultimately just having way more fun with the warmup. And it was about to become a huge problem for Eddie.

Steve pops his headphones over his ears, the tape deck tucked securely in his shorts pocket. He bends over, inhaling deeply as the song starts, rising up with his hands overhead, exhaling as he rolls his wrists, hips moving side to side with the beat. His already short cropped t-shirt rises, showing off a good amount of his chest. He lets his arms come down, bending over again, feeling the pull in his hamstrings. Gripping his elbows, he lets the top half of his body hang, swinging from side to side, his hamstrings fully stretched out.

Eddie looks up from his own basic stretching, shocked to see Steve fully bent over, because hey, since when was he so flexible? With Metallica blaring through his own headphones, Eddie just stares, completely forgetting where he was at in his warmup.

Steve lets his hands drop, moving to one foot, back to the centre, then the other foot. Ass just up in the air, his shorts way too tight. Eddie swallows. He’d been denying his crush for months at this point, and good god this was not helping.

Rolling his shoulders as he stands up, Steve lets his hands travel down his bare thighs, sinking into a squat with his back arched and head tilted back. Eddie's eyes are wide as he watches those tight little shorts with the little cut-ins on the sides ride up, showing far more of Steve's glorious hairy thighs than Eddie can handle. Steve drops his head forward, hunching his shoulders as he moves back to standing. He repeats the motions, and Eddie wishes he had the strength to pull his stare away from Steve's ass.

Seeing Steve's head tilted back and his back arched is sending Eddie insane. Like, he geninely thinks he might evaporate on the spot if he keeps watching. But he just can't look away.

Turning himself sideways, Steve has one foot stepped out in front of the other, legs perfectly straightened into a triangle shape, bent over his front leg. Just when Eddie thinks he’s about to get up and end his suffering, Steve lowers himself down into a lunge. His little shorts definitely way too small and tight for the movement, Steve lunges back and forth, fingertips resting on the ground on either side of his front foot. Eddie watches as the t-shirt rides up with each lunge, the desire to get his lips and tongue all over Steve's chest overwhelming him.

Shaking himself, Eddie tries to remember which shoulder stretch he was up to. He attempts something close to a stretch, but he can’t be sure he's doing it right, because Steve has lowered himself to the ground, front leg bent and back leg perfectly straight, and is fucking thrusting into the ground. If he were to ask Steve, he’d find out this was a hip flexor stretch. But Eddie’s forgotten how to form words entirely, suddenly imagining nineteen different ways he wants to get dicked down by the man before him.

Eddie suffers in silence, heart racing in his chest, watching as Steve repeats the movements on his other side. He prays that the torture ends soon, that they can just get to the workout, and Eddie can go back to pretending he doesn't want to ride Steve until his thighs give out. But Eddie gets no such luck.

Steve has moved into some kind of triangle position, hands on the ground, legs straight, and of fucking course, his ass in the air. Eddie marvels at how straight the shape is, only for a moment, because then Steve is lifting his heels up and down in turn, and jesus christ those tiny little shorts are just riding up, and Eddie can see a hint of Steve's ass peeking out. His jaw drops. He may actually explode.

Just when Eddie's thinking he can't take much more of this, Steve lowers himself down, knees spread wide, arms stretched out in front of him and head tucked down. A wild and rushed series of thoughts fly across Eddie's mind, all centred around Steve kneeling down in front of him. Eddie needs to get it together quickly.

As Steve brings himself back up to the triangle position, walking his feet to meet his hands and rolling his spine up, shoulders and head rolling back last, he sees Eddie taking off for his warmup jog. Assuming that he probably just took too long with his new warmup, Steve shrugs it off and starts his jog shortly after.

Eddie hits his personal best in several weights that day, desperately trying to expend his excess energy in some way. He barely registers the wins, mind still stuck on Steve and his perfect ass in all those new positions. He almost dissolves on the spot when Steve claps him on the shoulder in congratuations.

At the end of their session, Eddie takes a freezing cold shower and prays for the sweet release of death.

[dyinggirldied]

danny fenton: superbat’s illegitimate son conspiracy

Danny, who is so bad at hiding his powers (flying, super strength, glowing beams, etc) and looks like Bruce when he was a child.

Everyone else: Danny, are you secretly Bruce and Clark’s illegitimate son?

[teecupangel]

[Desmond Miles has successfully saved a Levantine village during the Third Crusaders after waking up in the past.]

Grateful civilian: Thank you, stranger! You have saved our village from the cruelty of war. May we ask who you are so we may know the name of our savior?

[Desmond Miles believes he cannot say ‘Desmond Miles’ because that might accidentally create a ripple effect in the future.]

[Desmond Miles believes he cannot use any of the names of the ancestors who haven’t been born yet especially the Kenways because of how important they are to his history.]

[Desmond Miles has not yet processed the shock of dying a painful death and waking up in the past and his brain is blanking.]

Desmond: Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad.

[The people Desmond Miles have saved now believed their savior’s name is Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad.]

[Desmond Miles has committed identity fraud.]

[… and he will continue to commit identity fraud.]

[runariya]

happy national text your ex day to our ccl couple 🤍

https://x.com/popbase/status/1851477476373151860?s=46&t=Myz5IwgdPHSYvVsdYpYxhQ

Drabble • National 'Text Your Ex' Day

word count: 429

masterlist

Jungkook sits on the bed in a hotel room, in a country he’d once dreamed of exploring with you, phone in hand, thumb hovering over the send button. 

It’s been over a year—over 365 days since he last saw your face, touched your hand, heard you laugh at something he said. By now, he reckons this year apart from you is worse than the year you were only friends. Having you in his life in any way possible would surely be better than nothing at all. 

He’s sure you’ve moved on, somehow, though he didn’t. You’ve probably found someone who’s better for you, probably that Yoongi guy, someone who doesn’t stay up late debating if a simple text could somehow make everything better. But that doesn’t stop him from staring at his phone, just wondering.

There’s a photo still pinned in his gallery—a candid shot he took of you in a cafe, smiling at something he can’t remember anymore but wishes he could. He’s looked at it so many times it’s burned into his mind. If he closes his eyes, he can still see you, right there, clear as day. Maybe that’s the problem. Jungkook never really let you go, never gave himself the proper chance to.

His thumb drifts, almost hits the send button. His heart does this tiny, desperate lurch. God, he’s ridiculous, pathetic even, clutching onto memories he’s certain you’ve put behind you. 

But then again, what if you haven’t? What if you’re somewhere out there, lying in bed, thinking about him too, wondering if he’s okay? Or maybe you’re lying next Yoongi, and he’s just a fragment of your past, someone you once loved but don’t anymore.

Over a year. It feels like forever, feels like he’s running again, can’t fucking breathe without you by his side. 

Sometimes, he just wants to know if you’re happy. Not because he wants you to be miserable without him—no, he genuinely hopes you’re doing well. It’s just…he’d hoped you’d be doing well with him.

Jungkook sighs, thumb moving back and forth over the screen. One text. That’s all it would take. “Hi, how’ve you been?” or just a simple “I miss you so much…” 

So simple, so easy. 

But Jungkook knows that once he opens that door of hope, there’s no going back. And if you don’t respond? Or worse...if you do, and it’s painfully polite, as if he’s nothing more than a stranger now?

So, he shuts his phone off, tosses it aside. Maybe someday he’ll gather the courage. 

Just…not today.

masterlist

All Rights Reserved © @runariya 2024

taglist: @kookiewithluv , @closer-to-jungkook , @dreamcatcherluvr , @runariyaluvr, @blueofocean, @leah-rose03 , @httpjeonlicious , @futuristicenemychaos , @cryingoverpixelsetc , @variety-is-the-joy-of-life , @kawaiiisstuff , @delusionalsnack , @jaykay-world , @kookie-vuitton , @https-mei, @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs , @avawants2havefun , @kawaiiisstuff, @ancagab16 , @lovingkoalaface , @lachimolalajeon , @jkslvsnella , @asimuss7 , @elinaki92 , @minghaosimp, @whoa-jo , @jaytheatiny , @winterbeartaehyungbestboy, @xsyruhh, @joonlover1207 , @elinaki92 , @junecat18 , @remgeolli , @kooloveys

[fanaticsnail]

if den-den mushis have customizable ringtones for different callers i'd definitely put out of context descriptive one-liners for them

Example given:

Zoro: SANTORYU- you are 20,170 kilometers away from your destination

Ichiji: laser eyes laser eyes laser eyes laser eyes

Yonji: if zoro and sanji had a kid

Luffy: dumbest ray of sunshine

Nami: MONEEEEEEEEEEEEY and tangerines

Law: moshi moshi i'll turn your brain into mush if you joke around with me

Kid: *krzzzt* *clangs* *gunshots* *screaming* *unhinged laughing*

Buggy: *silly cartoon noises including the honk and the running sfx*

Sanji: kuso marimo- ♡NAMI-SWAAAAN, ROBIN-CHWAAAN-♡

Lucci: *catfighting noises*

Who's Who: *in a deep voice* mrow

Queen: miSeRO yO HeNsHIn- (actual line)

King: he's too fine so the government hunts him

Law's Den Den Mushi

Masterlist Here

He has done everything in his power to protect the snail from being tampered with: sleeping with it on his mattress beside him as a last ditch effort to halt it from an unwanted touch and alteration...

...but his crew is exceptionally intelligent, and the mechanical mastery of the Polar Tang translates exceptionally well to Den Den frequency.

It started with a silly comment regarding how many beats per minute is used in cardiopulmonary resuscitation: it's 100-120 beats. Compressions need to be timed accordingly to save a life, and what a better way to remember that by tampering with Captain Trafalgar Law's Den Den to set a beat to match that frequency.

Ikkaku is the best with wires and cogs, Penguin is an excellent anesthesiologist, and Hakugan is the second best surgeon on the ship. With Jean Bart and Uni keeping watch of the door, Clione and Bepo steering the Tang and holding it steady, the three of them begin the tamper with the snail radio frequency to not only emit the sound from Law's shell when it's called: but all shells Law manages to call from his personal Den Den.

Unaware and sleeping soundly for the first time in a long time, Law is awoken by the sound of his Den Den singing instead of its usual warble, and his face flushed red with both anger and embarassment.

He can't even bring himself to answer the call, even while knowing who was on the other end of the transmission. There is nothing he can do to change it now, and after the anger subsides, he actually marvels a little at the mastery gone into ensuring that this is what plays when he needs to use his shell...

🎶"Yo' dick brick hard like a medal (uhh), I got three holes for it, like a pretzel (uhmm). Tight as a virgin, boy, don't get nervous (tight), I'm here to serve you customer service (right?). I save dick by giving it CPR, I save dick by giving it CPR (yes). Put my mouth on it like CPR. Let's make porn and watch it on VCR."🎶

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @ane5e

[wileycap]

Zuko joins the Gaang at Ba Sing Se, but Azula still succeeds with the coup.

With Zuko in the group, Sokka sees an opportunity to Look Good In Front Of Dad, a Sokka priority at all times. To do that, he convinces Zuko to tell his dad stories. Stories where the heroic Water Tribe operative tasked with protecting the Avatar thwarts the Evil Fire Prince who has a bad haircut.

Zuko agrees, because he was bad and now he's good and, uh, it's fine to make fun of him? They probably want to do that, with all the kidnapping and chasing and fire. So he should let them. Do that.

Hakoda listens to painfully fake stories and watches Zuko wax poetic about being defeated time and time again by a cunning and brave Water Tribe warrior (who wasn't bad with the ladies, either) and comes to a Conclusion.

After all, it makes a lot more sense than the Fire Prince just deciding to be good, even though that was how said Fire Prince, in his usual eloquent manner, had put it.

Combined with the upcoming Day of Black Sun... well. The Southern Water Tribe has been declining for a while now. If the war really is about to end, they'll need every advantage they can get to survive the peace that follows.

So, one night he gathers the tribal leaders and the trusted men in secret, and tells them that Prince Zuko is in love with Prince Sokka. Because it would be very prudent to have princes right about now. Princes that the Southern Water Tribe have always had and just forgot about until now.

(Prince Sokka must, of course, be told of his new station.

Prince Sokka takes the news well.)

Prince Zuko, a prince of a much older line of princes (meaning more than three hours old), is... really confused. They want to make him part of the tribe? Is that okay? What do you mean marriage NO I WON'T LOWER MY VOICE UNCLE, WHAT DO YOU MEAN MARRIAGE

Sokka spreads tales of their manly brand of love, borne of hopeless adoration from one warrior to another, much cooler and more badass warrior. Zuko's forehead starts becoming permanently red.

Hakoda is beginning to wonder if he's misunderstood the situation. If he rushed the spear, so to speak. If declaring his son a prince was a tad hasty of him.

Bato is tired.

[the-broken-pen]

I adore your writing style! If you want could you do something about a hero with wings?

The villain rounded the corner into the alley just in time to watch the hero nudge the boot of the body in front of them with their foot, face considering.

“For a hero, you kill an awful lot of people,” the villain pointed out, and the hero turned to stare at them, blood splattered across their pure white wings.

“What, that?” The hero kicked the boot of the body strewn across the concrete below them. “This is community service.”

The villain tipped their head at the body. “Does he know that?”

“I think he’s figuring it out,” the hero grinned, and the villain could do nothing more than stare at them, slightly dumb, for a second.

“How the fuck are they still calling you archangel when you keep murdering people in broad daylight.”

The hero shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t even know why they started calling me that in the first place, to be honest.”

The villain made a mocking face at them, and the hero made one back. “Oh, with the pure white wings and dazzling face, I wonder.”

The hero clasped a still bloody hand to their chest. “You think I’m pretty?”

“I think you belong in a jar of formaldehyde.”

The hero dropped their hand, sighing. “Funny, because everyone else keeps writing fanfiction in my honor. And trust me, they have very strong opinions on my appearance.”

The hero’s grin couldn’t be described as anything other than catlike, pleased and sharp. Their wings cocked behind them.

“I’m sorry, you read fanfiction about yourself?”

“Don’t be jealous, there’s plenty about you, too.”

The villain spluttered. “I’m not jealous–”

“Sounds like it.”

“Oh my god.”

“Don’t bring that douche canoe into this,” the hero said, looking up. “His ego is the size of the titanic and I am doing my very best to sink that fucker.”

The villain gaped at them. “That is not very ‘innocent angel baby of the media’ of you.”

The hero kicked the boot of the body once more, and the villain winced. “Will you stop that–”

“Oh, sorry,” the hero looked down at the body. “Do you mind?” They turned back to the villain , gesturing with their thumb over their shoulder. “He says he doesn’t mind.”

“Archangel,” the villain repeated. “Fallen angel, saint of the city–”

“Listen, people will excuse anything if it comes from a pretty package.”

“What, so you use your pretty face to get away with murder?”

“No, I commit murder, and I happen to be pretty, and for some reason everyone is plenty fine with excusing the murder because of that fact. I’d be doing it regardless,” the hero confided. “My murderous tendencies continue whether or not I am forgiven for them.”

“What, so you just murder anyone you feel like?”

The hero gasped. “I’m not a monster,” they said, the corner of their mouth twisting into a wry grin. “My mother raised me right.”

The villain got the sense they were on the wrong side of an inside joke.

“That was decidedly not an answer to my question.”

The hero groaned. “You’re absolutely no fun right now. No, I only kill bad people. I’m a good samaritan.”

“I think we need to redefine your idea of what that term means.”

“Okay, if I was going around killing anyone who annoyed me, I would have a way longer rap sheet. Like people who cut in line. Not to mention how fucking annoying it is when someone decides to DIY a summoning circle in their basement and I have to handle that mess. Do you know how annoying it is to get magically butt dialed by a white woman on a random ass Tuesday?”

The villain blinked. “Uh. Can’t say I do, no.”

The hero ran a hand down their face in annoyance, smearing blood behind as they went. The villain cringed, but it didn’t seem to bother the hero in the slightest. 

“It’s really fucking annoying.”

“You also swear a lot,” the villain noted. “Not very heroic.”

“I think we can both agree I remain very firmly planted in the vigilante section of the spectrum,” the hero gestured with their hands to some imaginary chart. The villain squinted at them. “Also, what are you, the language police?”

“Uh,” the villain said, and the hero smiled innocently at them. There really wasn’t anything to say to that. “No?”

“Tell me, you pick up lots of girls with that suave demeanor of yours?”

The villain bristled at that. “You–I–ugh,” the villain groaned. “Did it hurt?”

The hero’s head tipped slightly to the side, endlessly amused. “Hmm?”

“When you fell from heaven,” the villain continued, and it was quite possibly the dumbest thing to have ever come out of their mouth, but this entire conversation bordered on a level of unhinged they hadn’t thought possible. 

The hero blinked once, twice, then burst into laughter, doubling over. Their wings ruffled in a way the villain had long since learned meant amusement.

The villain flushed. 

“You really think I fell from heaven?”

“I don’t know,” the villain said defensively. “It’s just a dumb pick up line–”

“You said it with an awful lot of certainty, though,” the hero countered, and the villain wished they had something to throw at them. 

“What was I supposed to think, with a name like Archangel and blinding white wings?”

The hero shrugged one shoulder.

“Have you ever actually met an angel before?” the hero asked, then amended, “other than me?”

“No,” the villain admitted.

“They don’t go around killing people, that’s for sure. Bunch of stuffy–”

Lightning cracked across the sky, and the ground rumbled slightly.

The hero groaned, wings tucking in. Blood flaked onto the ground. “What, you’re both pissed at me?”

A gust of wind whipped past them, hurtling down the alley, there one second and gone the next, and the hero let out a sigh. “Sorry.”

They did not sound sorry.

“Both?”

The hero looked back at them, and this time when they grinned, it was slightly sheepish.

“Yeah,” they said. “God, and, you know. My mom. Raised me right, remember?”

The villain was an idiot.

“You didn’t fall,” the villain confirmed, and the hero nodded their head. “Though I’m sure you absolutely would have earned that by now, if you were going to.”

The hero reared back, like they were about to spit something rude, but the villain continued before they could.

“Please, please tell me your father isn’t Lucifer,” the villain said, and the hero rubbed a hand across the back of their neck.

They laughed slightly. “Uh. About that.”

“Oh my god,” the villain said, and the hero didn’t even look upset about the reference. “You’re from hell.”

“You could call me an avid climber,” the hero offered, and the villain just looked at them.

“You’re an angel from hell,” the villain said.

“Technically, I’m an archangel from hell. So like, the media wasn’t exactly wrong with that one.”

The villain could write a killer memoir about this.

“This makes so much sense.”

The hero frowned. “I don’t like the implications of that.”

“You literally kill people.”

“Bad people,” the hero corrected. “We’ve discussed this.”

“I feel like that violates some sort of cosmic rule. There has to be some rule that breaks.”

“What?”

The villain gestured vaguely. “You’re self supplying your hometown.”

The hero laughed at that. 

“This really is not that big of a deal.”

“You’re a nepo baby.”

“And you’re awfully comfortable saying that to a literal child of satan.”

“If you wanted me dead, I would be.”

The hero weighed their head from side to side. Their wings moved behind them, as if they, too, were considering. “True.”

The villain found themself rubbing a hand over their brow. “You kill people, and you get away with it because you’re pretty, and people think you’re a child of god. When actually, you’re a child of Satan, and you crawled your way out of hell to wreak havoc on my life.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly why I did it,” the hero said dryly. “To fuck with you.”

“I would not put it past you,” the villain countered. 

“You were not my reason,” the hero said. They slid a step closer, hand curling into the villain’s collar, and the villain's mouth went dry. “But you are awfully pretty.”

“You’re literally an angel–”

“Which means it’s high praise,” the hero murmured, wings curving over the tops of their shoulders, and up close they looked even softer than the villain had thought they would. Their eyes stayed firmly planted on the villain’s lips, and the villain had no idea how they had gotten here but they were confused about it and also not quite mad–

“If you’re trying to woo me to distract me from the fact that you’re a dark angel, it’s not working.”

“Isn’t it?”

The villain swallowed. 

“You know, all that fan media includes you,” the hero said casually, and the villain’s heart skipped a beat.

“What?”

“You really thought I read it just for me?” the hero grinned, stepping back, hand falling away from the villain. “Oh, please.”

The villain opened their mouth to say anything, then closed it, then opened it again.

The hero’s eyes were laughing at them.

“Maybe the bloodshed is partially because I want your attention,” the hero mused. “Or maybe not. You’ll never know, will you, human.”

They said it like an endearment.

“You–”

The hero nodded. “Yeah. I tend to do that to people.”

“I don’t–”

“If it means anything,” the hero said as they went to move past the villain. They tucked themselves against the villain, lips brushing the shell of their ear. Their feathers skated down the villain’s bare arm, and they shivered. “My mother approves.”

The villain’s face was hot. They shuddered out a breath. The hero released them, continuing their path down the alleyway, and the villain spun to watch them go.

The hero paused at the mouth of it.

“Oh,” they snapped their fingers like they had remembered something, but their grin said this had been planned. “Her name is Lilith, by the way.”

The villain’s brain short circuited.

Lilith. The mother of all monsters. Lilith, the wife of Lucifer. Lilith, someone who apparently approved of the villain.

‘I’m not a monster. My mother raised me right.’

Oh, this little shit.

The hero laughed, vanishing around the corner, blowing a kiss as they went. The villain could have sworn they had a halo, wings still splattered with blood, and in the arch of the sunlight they were every bit the fallen angel the media thought they were.

“Oh, you beautiful, monstrous, wretched thing,” the villain murmured, but it was fond. “Only you could make damnation look like divinity.”

[mousy-nona]

Chronicles of Cursed Cat Alastor

One day, the hotel woke up to see Alastor’s perpetual “on air” sign had been turned off. His room was empty, his coffee ice cold. 

And in the middle of the lobby was a cat. Or what seemed to be the approximate shape and size of a cat, but with the strangest, most evil face any of them had ever seen. It grinned up at them and wagged its little stump of a tail, which made Charlie melt into a puddle of happy tears.

“Isn’t he adorable?” She squealed.

And that was that. The cat joined their weird little family – and Lucifer secretly resolved to get his daughter to an eye doctor. Stat. 

—-----------------

“Charlie, are you sure about this one? There’s something weird about that cat.” Lucifer eyed the red thing warily. “It’s looking at Keekee like it wants to eat it!” 

“Don’t be silly! Mr. Montgomery is probably trying to be her friend!” She frowned. “It’s so strange. Keekee’s never been this skittish around other cats before.” 

A thin line of drool was falling from the edge of Mr. Montgomery’s mouth. When he noticed Lucifer watching, he sucked it back up and graced him with a freakish, utterly too human grin.  

—-----------------

Lucifer’s wedding anniversary hit him like a truck. That is, he didn’t handle it very well. He got up, fully intending to make a show of his utterly fantastic mood – haha, look how great I feel! Your mother didn’t crush my heart and set it on fire with a flamethrower after all! – but found it was all too much of a bother, and sat promptly back down. He laid his head on his desk. Just a few more minutes. Then I’ll leave. 

He didn’t even notice Mr. Montgomery had waltzed in until the abomination jumped up onto his desk. The cat loomed over him, his razor teeth inches from Lucifer’s nose. 

“Can I help you?” He sniffled. Couldn’t a man mourn the end of his marriage in peace? 

Mr. Montgomery tilted his head with a sickening crack, his neck nearly bending into a right angle as he studied Lucifer’s red eyes, the mountain of used tissues accumulating by the desk, the ring he was clutching in his hand.

Stretching leisurely (in the exact same way he learned from Keekee, Lucifer noted), Mr. Montgomery strolled over to a picture of Lilith he had on his desk – and smacked it off. He stared at him the entire time, as if daring him to do something about it.

“Are you…are you power playing me right now?” 

“Meow,” Mr. Montgomery sneered. 

“That’s it, you little freak! Come to Daddy!”

When Charlie got home, she found Lucifer with his six wings fully spread and the hotel half destroyed by angelic bolts, panting and wheezing as he tore a couch apart. 

“Dad, what are you doing?” 

He whirled around, his eyes wild as he zapped a vaguely cat-shaped shadow into oblivion. “It’s that monster! That cat! I can hear him in the walls!”

“Isn’t he behind you…?” Vaggie asked.

And he was. Mr. Montgomery was sitting on a shelf over the reception, licking his paw and yawning. 

Lucifer deflated. “Ah. I guess he is.”

“Dad, isn’t today…?” Charlie trailed off, blushing a little.

“Oh! Right. Yes, it is,” Lucifer said. He’d been so busy chasing Mr. Montgomery around, he’d completely forgotten about his anniversary. 

“Are you doing okay?”

He sighed and pulled her into a hug. “Yes, I’m fine. I was a little sad at first, but then I got distracted.”

“Burning down the hotel?” Vaggie asked. Mr. Montgomery meowed and started purring, looking as pleased as a cat that had gotten the cream.

—-----------------

“That cat is trying to kill me!” Lucifer roared, pointing at the wholly unrepentant Mr. Montgomery.

The accused murderer jumped onto Charlie’s lap and started kneading her lap. Everyone let out a collective awww! Charlie nearly teared up, and Angel Dust snapped a picture for his Voxstagram. Even Vaggie, the sole voice of reason, was making what the kids called heart eyes at the monster. 

Lucifer nearly tore out his hair in frustration. “He’s tricking you, don’t you see? That cat has it out for me! This is the third time he’s tried to kick rat poison into my food!” 

“Don’t be silly, Dad! He’s just a cat. Cats knock stuff over all the time!” 

“Rat poison? Three times?” 

Charlie looked around, frowning. “Who keeps putting rat poison on the shelves?” 

No one fessed up. Mr. Montgomery let out a loud purr and fixed Lucifer with the most hair-raising, devilishly smug grin Lucifer had ever seen. 

“Did no one see that? Seriously, did no one else see that?”

—-----------------

A few weeks passed before someone finally broached the question that was on everyone’s mind.

“Has anyone seen Alastor?” Charlie tapped her nose with her pencil, frowning a bit. “It’s strange for him to be gone this long.” 

“Oh, oh! I’ve seen him!” Niffty raised her hand and waved it frantically. “He’s right over there!”

Everyone turned – but all they saw was a furry red blob warming himself near the fire. 

“Niffty, doll, have you been sniffing the toilet cleaner again?” Angel Dust asked gently.

“Nooo, silly. The cat is Alastor!” Niffty chirped, clapping her little hands with delight. Mr. Montgomery – no, scratch that – Alastor blinked his left eye, then his right eye, and smiled blandly up at all of them.

“But…but…how?” Angel Dust stuttered.

She shrugged, her shoulders going all the way up to her ears. “Dunno. He’s got a few weird friends who like to play tricks on him. Isn’t it great? He showed up all fluffy and cuddly! Perfect for hugs!” 

Alastor the Cat looked remotely nervous for the first time since he’d appeared. 

“How do we turn him back?” Lucifer demanded. He would rather die than admit it, but he sort-of-kind-of missed the sadistic demon that made his life Hell. It was getting kind of boring without him around. 

“Dunno! Ask him!”

Once again, they all turned to the cat, who opened his mouth – “Meeeeow.”

[nekrosmos]

I see you've found some of those weird ass memes over on pinterest OPCNZPCNZO They're so funny help

[incorrectbatfam]

Help I'm writing a fic and I need ideas for a Z-list Rogue. Smth bad but gimmicky

Chalkduster, the Crime Alley nuisance who runs around pounding erasers in people's faces

Sparklewolf, the person who got stuck in their fursuit and turned to a life of crime to survive

Captain Gender Essentialism, the Republican who thinks men will grow ovaries if they use toilet paper

Stickytoes, the thief with sticky toes

Dr. Needler, a mad acupuncturist

The Arborist, a Poison Ivy copycat who plants trees in potholes

Mother Crunchy, the woman who uses her unvaccinated kids as bioweapons

Chewer, a guy who chews with his mouth open

Four-Eyes, a kid with indestructible glasses and appetite for burning anthills

The Radium Girls, an all-female gang of radium dealers

Light Yagami, a teenager who's weirdly obsessed with his notebook

Gerbil, the street racer in a giant plastic ball

Redditor, the dude whose opinion no one asked for