#drabbles. » script.

[gothamite-rambler]

"Weird Questions from a Weird City: Batfamily Edition

Duke Thomas: What’s your biggest fear?

Jason Todd: That I’ll never be good enough for anyone.

Tim Drake: Everyone hates me and talks about me behind my back.

Dick Grayson: Vampires.

Jason Todd: ...

Tim Drake: ...

Dick Grayson: I got turned into one once and nearly killed peoples. It's a bloodlust, you never know when you'll be fully quenched and every non-vampire is a succulent vessel... But I'm not a vampire anymore and that is in my past.

Dick eats his apple after that.

*silence*

Duke Thomas: Holy crap stick, Batman.

Tim: Can I change my option to Dick Grayson?

Jason: Same.

[devildomwriter]

MC: Barbatos! Barbatos!

Barbatos: MC, what has you so excited?

MC: I just got my degree from Purdue university!

Barbatos: Oh my! Congratulations MC. We’ll have to throw a party.

Barbatos: What is your degree for?

MC: *Shows*

Barbatos: *Gives you an annoyed glare and walks away*

Diavolo: “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Diavolo: “You should give us a demonstration.”

Barbatos: “NO.”

[ddejavvu]

Do you think you could do Sirius Black with the “I hate everyone but you.” Personality.

James is immediately alerted to your glum mood when you sit down without so much as a greeting, and he leans across the table with narrowed eyes.

"What's'a matter, Y/L/N?"

"Sirius is mad at me." You reveal drearily, wrapping your hand around the fork set at your place even if you don't feel like eating.

"Oh," James's brow scrunches, "Don't take it personal, babe. He's having a shit day, he heard from his mum. Nothing nice, I bet. Wouldn't let me see it. Just- he's grouchy with everyone today, don't let it bother you."

"But he told me to come back tomorrow," You recount, "Like he can't stand seeing me for the entire day! What am I supposed to do, James, we're set to study in the library at three. And- and I could help him! I could be there for him, but he's pushing me away instead."

James's brows raise, and a pitying smile works its way over his face, "Love. You're the kind of person that wants to be around people all the time. You seek comfort out when you're sad; Sirius doesn't. If you love him, y'gotta let him sulk for a bit. Then he'll come to you. And-" His nose scrunches, his brows wrinkled, "And all he said was 'come back tomorrow'? That's nothing. He told me to get my bespectacled arse out of the room before he shut the window on my head."

Your face contorts in horror, "James! James, that's so mean, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, darling." He snickers, "That's what I mean, that's just what Sirius does."

"Not to me he doesn't," You frown, "That's not okay, James, he should treat you better than that."

"He's having a rough time," James shrugs, "Doesn't bother me. He's all talk, he'd never do any of it. Just needs to blow off steam, y'know? And I think we both know why he tones it down for you, Y/N."

"I'm not special," You snap, reigniting the age-old argument between you and James that Sirius totally does not have feelings for you, not one bit.

"Right," James gives you an overexaggerated roll of his eyes, curls bouncing as he does so, "That's why he threatened to behead me and all he did to you was kindly shoo you away."

"Maybe you just piss him off more than me," You stick your tongue out at him, and turn to Remus for support as the boy sits down beside you.

"Morning," James takes the lead, shooting you a smirk out of the corner of his eye, "Talk to Sirius today, Moony?"

"Little shit told me if I didn't stop talking to him - which I only tried once, by the way," Remus groans, "- he'd 'mess me up' so hard my transformations felt like reprieve."

James's eyes widen and he tries tamping down a snort, tucking into his breakfast instead. Remus turns to you and your once-more incredulous gaze, scoffing lightly, "And I suppose he just told you to come back tomorrow?"

"That's exactly it!" James slams a fist on the table, a chunk of egg flying from his mouth that Remus shakes off of his hand with a grimace, "Moony, tell her she's special."

"I'm not special," You desperately try deluding yourself, shoveling your own forkful of food into your mouth as soon as you're done speaking, so that you don't have to answer to their protests, "He just hates you both."

[nottsangel]

I have that 3some fic about JJ and Rafe stuck in my head again (it was soo good bub). Thinking about how everyone wants to go again, to make it become a regular occurrence but you and JJ don’t know how to bring it up to rafe, too scared he'll laugh and mock you both (or kill jj with his bare hands). One night you and rafe and messing about and drinking when he tells you he has a surprise for you, 2 minutes later jj shows up at the door

omg thank u so much baby makes me so happy to hear !!!! omfg i LOVEEEEE this and i love ur brain so much. i need them so bad. like can u imagine drunk sex with the both of them. they’re so touchy and needy and all the attention is on you as they explore every part of your body. jj sloppily eating you out as you can feel his moans vibrate on your core and rafe making out with you while massaging your breasts. your head is spinning from all the sensations, feeling like you’re in a dream. the night obviously ends with both of them double penetrating you and using you like their toy as they make themselves cum, causing you to collapse on the bed with your mind all fuzzy <3

[prideofcelestia]

❝ when you say that nobody got you a cake for your birthday ❞

« gender neutral reader »

« scenario »

« pairing - solomon x reader »

luci, mam, satan, levi ver.

This man takes the responsibility of baking you a cake himself. Thankfully, he burns it while thinking about how lonely you must have felt on not getting a cake. How long has it been since he was born? He has no clue. All those lonely years with nobody to remind him of his birthday and with time, he has forgotten the exact date.

It doesn't really matter.

Now he has someone to hold the knife with when he cuts a cake. He has someone who will wish him on his birthday even if he doesn't remember it. He has someone special - you.

A smile tugs at his lips when he thinks about his other friends at Purgatory Hall. Everyone has made his life a lot warmer.

Well, he'll just get you cake from the human world. It'll be special and remind you of home. He knows just the place!

On hearing a knock on your door, you open it only to be suprised by Solomon. Party poppers burst and bright light flashes at your face menacingly.

"Ough." You stumble back a few steps. A strong arm wraps around your waist to prevent a fall.

"Surprise! Surprise! A very happy birthday!"

"What?" You say, puzzled.

"Surprise! Surprise! A very happy birthday!" The automatic voice chimes. You can't pinpoint the where it's coming from. The voice surrounds you from every direction.

His laughter floats into the room.

"Oh [Name], you should have seen your face. You looked like you had seen a ghost. Anyway. Happy birthday to you. Here's the cake. Make a wish."

He quickly gets you seated im a chair and puts a party hat on your head. Before you can blink, he is singing "Happy birthday to you" with the utmost delight. It's adorable to see him act like a child.

"The cake...", you frown. "It looks like our faces, Solomon. And are we kissing?!"

"Wonderful, isn't it?" He smiles sweetly.

"I can see the little smirk on your face," you carefully scan the expression drawn on the cake, "Not very subtle."

"Oh come now [Name]. Are you mad because the cake faces are kissing? You can kiss me. Any time. I will show you how I actually smirk. What do you say?"

The sound of sudden tapping on the front door interrupts you.

"Who can it be at midnight? I mean I expect it's not late late in the Devildom but still."

"That must be the brothers," Solomon replies with a weary sigh. "I wanted to be the first person to wish you so I put a spell around Cocytus Hall that blocks any calls from outside. The brothers must have been trying your DDD for a long time hahahahaha. I expected to have a little more time alone with you to be honest. They really care about you to go to these lengths."

He moves closer and holds your hand gently.

"But that can wait. Why don't you make a wish for now?"

The knocking stops followed by a loud blast but you maintain eye contact with the mischievous sorcerer.

A distant voice rings angrily in your ears.

"SOLOMON! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO [NAME]?"

[noturlondonboy]

I was given the assignment to write a short podcast script for my English class, so of course I took it as a fan fiction opportunity. Here’s some silly Bishova :DDD

Thank you so much to @random-marvel-oc and @thebleedingpearl for the question ideas.

——

Intro: Welcome back to another episode everyone! This is Avengers All Around, our favorite place to sit and talk with some of Earth’s mightiest heroes! Per very popular request, we’ve brought in two special guests to talk to us today- some of the most recent additions to the team of incredible individuals that work tirelessly to keep us all safe. Please welcome Kate Bishop and Yelena Belova, aka the New Hawkeye and White Widow!

K: Hey Chuck! Thank you so much for having us, this is such a fun opportunity!

IJ: Oh, my name isn’t-

Y: Yes, Chuck, very good to be here. My Kate Bishop would not shut up about this for anything.

K: *laughs* It’s true! It’s just been so exciting to think about. What kind of questions do you have for us? Can we dive right into it?

IJ: …I- y’know what, uh, yeah! Yeah, let’s get right into it. Just real quick, I wanted to take this opportunity to tell you guys how much of an honor it is to have you on the podcast today. We’re all such big fans of you two here on Avengers All Around, and honestly, I would call myself number 1.

K: I’m so flattered, thank y-

Y: We aren’t actually Avengers, you know.

K: Well I wouldn’t say that we-

Y: Kate Bishop is the leader of the Young Avengers, yes, but they are a separate and more modernized team. I lead the Thunderbolts. Very, very different.

IJ: Right, of course! *laughs nervously* Sorry about that confusion, ladies. Let’s get to-

Y: Do not call me “lady” again, Chuck. *scoffs* Kate Bishop, honestly. Did you not vet this person before accepting the interview proposal?

K: …I actually didn’t have time to do that, no.

Y: Kate Bishop. You… cannot be serious. We’ve been over this. Many times.

K:

IJ:

IJ: Okayyyyy then… *coughs* We alright to hop into some questions with you two?

K: Oh, um- yes, absolutely! Please, let’s continue, sorry about that.

Y: Don’t start thinking I’ll forget about that lapse in judgment, Kate Bishop.

K: *clears her throat nervously* I’m sure you won't, darling. Anyway, Chuck, please, give us the first one. I’m so excited to hear what the fans want to know.

Y: I’m not.

IJ: *forces a laugh* Alright, no worries! First up, one of the most voted for questions from a popular blogging site known as Tumblr… do you two prefer to drink coffee, or tea?

Y: Tumblr? That is familiar to me. Is that familiar, Kate? You’ve mentioned such a thing, haven’t-

K: *laughs loudly* Nope, I have no idea what a Tumblr is. I’ve never-

Y: Also, I’m sorry- did you say that was one of the most voted questions for us? Coffee or Tea? Really?

IJ: Well sometimes it’s the more mundane, slice of life things-

K: Tumblr users are a different breed, babe. This makes total sense.

Y: Right, right… thank you so much, Katherine Elizabeth “I have no idea what a Tumblr is” Bishop.

K: Well-

Y: Either way, I’ve been told I look like I would enjoy a tea called Yorkshire Gold, but I prefer my coffee so black it tastes like you ground soil from the motherland straight into your cup.

IJ: Oh wow, that’s-

K: Absolutely disgusting, is what it is, Chuck. I’ve seen her shove straight beans and boiled water down her throat.

Y: Eh, it was a rushed morning. You are lucky I did not use one of my adrenaline shots that day, Kate Bishop.

K: Wait, I’m sorry- you have adrenaline shots? In the apartment?

Y:

Y: Yes.

K:

IJ: Should we move on to a different question?

K: Oh, I’m so sorry! No no no, that’s alright, uh- I love a good cinnamon and vanilla tea at bedtime, but hands down, I’ll always pick coffee if they’re both options. Yelena makes a mean latte, if you know what I mean.

IJ: What a fun fact for us to know, thank you for sharing!

Y: It’s really not that-

K: *coughs loudly* Anyway, what do you have for us next?

IJ: Right! *shuffles papers* Here’s one I think will be more up your alley, Yelena- if you two were to swap weapons, who would master the new equipment first?

K: Oh! So, if-

Y: I would.

K: Hey!

IJ: Care to explain?

Y: Simple enough- Kate Bishop uses a bow and arrow as her weapon of choice. Staple Hawkeye image, and all that. But it’s archaic and can only do so much in battle. Useless in close combat, too.

K: We literally had an entire conversation about how cool my new arrowheads were-

Y: That doesn’t change the fact that I would master a bow before you could ever learn to navigate wearing Widow Bites, or wielding my batons. It really is as simple as that, Kate Bishop.

K: *scoffs* Uncalled for.

News Break: “Subscribe now to hear the rest of this week’s episode of Avengers All Around!”

[sisterdivinium]

Sometimes she wondered whether Beatrice knew.

Ava hadn't had the nerve to say anything when first she noticed Beatrice would wake earlier than her but let her rest, lying beside her with open eyes, sometimes since dawn. She hadn't been able to relinquish the simple pleasure of knowing Beatrice was there, merely breathing, as motionless as herself — floating in time, peaceful as their intensive training never allowed for.

The alarm sounded.

Ava shot up, mumbling, playing her part — letting Beatrice play hers.

She wondered if Beatrice knew; she wondered if she might ever tell her… And end the act altogether.

[ohtobealady]

I saw that you were asking for one-word prompts... my suggestion is:

Accident

However you want to interpret that.

Thank you!

Well I am sorry. This is angst, pure angst. Season 1 terrible awful angst.

Missing scene from S1E7.

—————-‘,——————

Accident

“I’m alright,” she softly insisted again as she tied the dressing gown sash loosely around her still-damp body. Beneath it, the chemise the woman had dressed her in stuck to her back. She’d not dried herself well enough.

“Milady—“

“I’m afraid I’ll look a-fright come tomorrow. His Lordship will suspect I’ve taken up boxing.”

“Please, milady,” Cora could feel O’Brien untie the silk she’d wrapped her hair in before the bath. Half of her hair hung from it now, anyway. Had she fallen that hard? “If you’ll only let me send for Doctor Clarkson.”

Cora let her hand probe softly at the places she’d hit—her hip, her elbow. And her stomach. Now that the shock of it had gone, her entire body felt immediately bruised and tender. Her hand lingered at her middle. “No. Really. I don’t think there’s any real damage done.” She wasn’t even certain if she believed herself, and she glanced at her maid and sighed. “My clumsiness is no reason to disturb him. After all, he can’t mend embarrassment.”

She forced a small chuckle, but stopped short: her abdomen was immediately too sore to laugh that way. She cleared her throat and shook away a quick sting of fear.

When she glanced up, O’Brien stared at her without blinking.

“Truly,” she lied to her maid. “I’ll be fine. I’ll have a lie down, and I’m sure that’ll sort it. Now go. I don’t want to keep you any longer than I have.”

She turned away from O’Brien to appear to search for the book on the small table beside the chaise, and her pantomime achieved what Cora had hoped: with a small “Very well, milady,” the woman left her.

Looking behind her at the click of the door, and determining O’Brien had gone, Cora turned slowly back toward her mirror and gently pulled up the dressing gown and chemise under it to inspect her left hip. It was as she expected: a red and already purpling oval. And then swallowing, she lifted her clothes higher and to her stomach. She’d hit it there against the rim of the tub—nearly in the center—as her foot had slipped as she stepped from the bath. Her middle had caught all her weight, and it had nearly knocked the wind from her before she fell upon the floor. She looked closer, to find the evidence of the accident, and in the morning sun, found a faint pink blotch below her navel, but nothing more. It was only the little swell O’Brien could still tug into her corsets, but that she and Robert had chuckled at last week.

Cora smiled at that, and dropped her hems. Yes. Everything appeared well, and this settled her fear enough for her to really retrieve her book.

She slowly settled onto her chaise. She slid her book from her little table and into her grasp. She leaned forward and reached behind her to straighten her pillow, but stopped. She inhaled at the quick tenderness of her belly. She blinked, still, and then forced herself to exhale. It was only a bruise; she’d inspected it herself. If the injury was worse, then it would’ve looked like her hip and, she assumed, her smarting elbow. Wouldn’t it have?

Yes.

So she opened the cover of the book; she flipped through a few pages to find her place; she tried her best to make her eyes read the words printed there, but found she could not. The soreness she felt when she leaned forward to adjust her pillow, it hadn’t subsided. Her abdomen felt tight. And then tighter still. And then her muscles—-those muscles low in her belly—-began to burn as they tightened.

Oh.

The fear Cora managed to assuage earlier prickled back again, and reminding herself to be calm, she pushed out a small exhale through pursed lips. She was alright. She was bound to feel a little sore, to have a small cramp; it was quite a blow. And perhaps she was thinking of it too much.

She made her eyes look back at the novel. They scanned the letters and words, dutifully, line by line as she worked her way down the page. But she couldn’t make her mind pay attention. For there was another tightening pain. And this time, it lasted longer than before, as if making itself known.

Cora closed her eyes and evened her breathing. If there was another, she told herself, she’d ring for O’Brien.

But there won’t be.

Her self-reassurance was weak however, and she let her fingers go to her middle, cradling the little life there. She indulged herself by looking at the small mound beneath her housecoat. She let her fingertip touch it. And, quite suddenly, she felt emotion begin to choke her.

“Of course I’m pleased.”

He’d been so happy; shocked, yes, but Robert had been so happy this last month.

And the letters. He’d written so many letters. Telling Rosamund. Shrimpie and Susan. Dickie. Murray. Jarvis.

Cora was sure that Lady Shackleton knew. Harold. Mother. She’d wanted to come over.

She closed her eyes. Please move, she pleaded. She willed it. Move, she prayed. She’d felt it last evening. Yesterday. She’d been able to feel it for a few weeks now, since right after Clarkson had confirmed it, the little flutters and then soft bumps inside of her. Just two nights ago, she’d taken Robert’s hand and pressed it to her middle. “Can’t you feel it?” she’d asked. His face had gone pink, but he smiled

Oh. Oh, it was another. She pulled in a deep breath and held it as the lowest muscles in her abdomen tightened, burned. And then—-Her eyes opened at the sensation of something—fluid—coming in a small gush between her legs.

There was no more suppressing the fear. She waited for the pain to pass, tears threatening her vision, and she moved to the pull to ring for her maid. Her head throbbed —-had she hit her head?—-every muscle now felt sorer than before, and she felt her stomach begin to roll as if she may retch.

She took deep breaths, and she pulled the cord again. Then, her fingers trembling, she made herself pull the fabric of her chemise beneath her dressing gown toward her, the back to the front, and she looked at it.

Wet. And pink.

She took calming breaths, but she knew better. She knew what was happening.

Another pain. More fluid with it, but this time it ran down the insides of her legs. She moved her eyes to her bare feet and waited for the little rivulets to stop.

Pinker than before. And then as the rivulets lingered on, there was red.

It was that, the bright color, that moved her to the truth at last. Her head felt too light, there was a ringing in her ears, and Cora fumbled her way to sit upon her bed and waited. The pain kept going this time, only growing tighter and burning more—sharp and twisting—and Cora clung to the side of her bed and did her best to breathe. The minute it let up, she moved to the washroom. She needed a towel. She needed water.

“Milady?”

She heard O’Brien, but she couldn’t make herself call to her.

“Milady?” She heard her nearer and then as she pushed open the washroom door.

And all the composure she tried her best to have vanished when she saw O’Brien, her maid whose face had gone white as a sheet, and Cora began to weep. “Oh.”

“Come,” her maid ushered her, but Cora could hear the emotion in her voice—high and wavering—even through her own. “Come and lie down.”

“Wait, oh.” She felt another pain creep itself into her belly. But this time there was no small trickle of fluid. This time it came quickly. “Oh, no. No. No.”

She heard O’Brien begging her to lie down again. She heard O’Brien leave her room as she did so, and then, through a blur of pain and the tears she blinked back, she saw as Mrs Hughes rushed into her room.

•••

“Nearing six now,” Robert watched as Doctor Clarkson closed his pocket watch and replaced it. The metallic click reverberated around the gallery, and it sounded strangely too loud in the quiet. “The bleeding isn’t stemming as much as I would expect. It is difficult to say if her injuries don’t go beyond the delivery—“

“She—“ he managed to begin, even if he felt his throat was too tight to move a single word from it. There was blood on Clarkson’s oversleeve. “But she isn’t—”

“No, your lordship. At least not yet. ” His voice interrupted, sparing Robert the word, but it lacked the quick pace of before. Robert felt the doctor eyeing him, and the gentle interlude felt like thunder before rain.

“But?” he asked, though the question made him afraid.

“At the stage of her pregnancy, it is important to know that her recovery may be as difficult as if she’d given birth at nine months. She will need rest. And her body may experience the…changes, for lack of a better word,” Robert felt his face flush, “that it would in ordinary circumstances.”

He wasn’t sure what Doctor Clarkson meant, but he wouldn’t ask. He couldn’t. His mind kept going back to Carson’s words two hours ago.

“My lord, there’s been an accident since you’ve been out. It’s her ladyship.”

“I am happy to speak with Mrs O’Brien and Mrs Hughes about what to expect in the coming weeks. And I can provide a list to Mrs Hughes of items that can be helpful.”

His good manners listened though every other thought was elsewhere—-in the room with her—-and he nodded his head. He thanked the man.

“And, please forgive me, Lord Grantham, but there is the matter of …”

Silence. Enough silence for Rober to pay attention. And he lifted his eyes at the doctor’s pause.

“Of the body.”

Robert blinked at him. “The … body?”

Doctor Clarkson nodded slowly. Solemnly. “I am sorry.”

But Robert couldn’t make himself comprehend. “Cora—That is, her ladyship is well? That is…I apologize I’m not sure—-“

“Of the child, my lord.”

“Oh.” He felt all at once foolish and ill, his stomach turning over itself. “Of course.” The child. Their child.

Clarkson spoke so softly. Too softly, but her room was just there. Her door was opened a crack. Robert could see light filtering in from where she lay. “In these situations, the hospital does offer to arrange burials in the churchyard amongst the others—“

“Others?”

“—though, should your wishes be different…yes.” Again, Doctor Clarkson paused. He lowered his voice again. “The other stillbirths and infants, Lord Grantham. Of the village.”

Robert shook his head, again his mind whirling, not understanding. “But it wasn’t as far along as that? It couldn’t be—“

“Not fully there, no. But …” He didn’t imagine the way Doctor Clarkson grimaced. “She’d made it to her fifth, nearly her sixth month. The child did—“ He stopped, and he quieted. “It did live. For a moment.”

In the following quiet, Robert felt as if he’d somehow grown smaller. There was no other feeling. Only that.

“I know that this is very difficult, and you have my sympathies, Lord Grantham.”

“Yes,” Robert blurted, strangely relieved in a painful way, as if the doctor’s words were a sort of excuse to let his chin tremble the way it needed to. To let his eyes sting with tears. “Thank you. I will speak with her ladyship about the—“ he took a small breath. “Burial.”

Clarkson, however, opened his mouth but didn’t speak. Robert watched him move his jaw, as if searching for the words.

It frightened him. “Yes?”

“Only, I’m not certain it best to—-” The doctor shifted his weight from his left to right foot, and Robert stood straighter, dread gnawing away at his nerves. “It may be best to make the decision on your own. She isn’t…”

“She isn’t what?”

The doctor nodded again, though at what Robert didn’t know.

“She is going to be alright, isn’t she?” Robert heard the waver in his voice, but he didn’t care. “You mentioned the bleeding, but otherwise, she’s not in any danger, is she?”

“No. No, I don’t think so. It’s only … well, it may be too distressing for her to speak of the burial.”

Robert furrowed his brow.

“You may consider making the decision on your own.”

“I—“ he shook his head. He couldn’t. “I don’t believe I could keep that from her.”

Doctor Clarkson drew in a long breath, and Robert watched as the man looked to the door behind them and then back to him. He frowned. “I did my best to hide the child from her sight, but …” another dreadful pause. Robert clenched his jaw.

“What is it?”

“You had a son, Lord Grantham.”

He stood still. He stared at Clarkson who spoke on, but Robert couldn’t hear what he said. The doctor nodded at him as he returned through Cora’s door, but though Robert’s heart ached to see her, to hold her and press a kiss to her head, he could not.

Robert walked from her door and into his dressing room. He stood at the window. And he stared.

Outside the afternoon was golden.

[flame-cat]

TALK ABOUT IT.

"Talk about...? Oh. Oh dear..."

"Oh, for fuck's sakes. I mean, this isn't- can you believe this, Stolas? A- a cosmically-ordained therapy session?"

"You know what? Truly, I can't. It's not as if we have anything more to say to each other on the matter."

"No, hang on, actually. Like, I get that the whole thing with the crystal went... not well. But you didn't let me finish talking. You just- sent me away! Like some sort of... servant. And I'll be honest, I really didn't appreciate that."

"I don't want to hear any more, Blitz. Please."

"No, you know what? I get that I hurt your feelings, and I'm sorry for that, but you didn't even give me a chance to say so before you just decided you knew how I felt about it!"

"I thought you made it very clear how you felt."

"No the fuck I didn't! I have no idea what you want from me anymore! We had a simple arrangement, and it was all fine, until suddenly you decided that you wanted something else from me, and the second I couldn't catch up you decided, again, that I just wasn't good enough for you! Well, I'm sick of you playing with my fucking feelings like the entitled prick you are! You're gonna listen to me now! Got it, asshole!?"

"... Alright."

"... A... alright?"

"Yes. Alright. I'll listen to what you have to say. It seems I don't really have a choice in the matter, anyway."

"That- that's just the thing, though! You've always had a choice! Our entire relationship has been about you and your choices! You've always been in control! And y'know what? Maybe I didn't always like it, but I was fine with it. I accepted it. And then suddenly you pulled out the rug from under me and changed the rules! That ain't fair, Stolas! It's not fair to me! It's not fair that you get to have whatever you want whenever you want it and I have to prostitute myself just to get by, and then you have the fucking audacity to act like we can have something after all that!

"I'm not your fucking plaything!"

"I don't want you to be! That's why I gave you the crystal in the first place- so you could choose. If you really, truly hate me, if you never want to see me again, then... then you can. I don't blame you. I wasn't fair to you. I... I want you to get what you want, Blitz. I want you to be happy. Even if it's without me."

"... I uh... I don't... really know what to say to that."

"Right. That's... that's fine."

"No, hang on, just let me get this figured out. So... that's it? You don't... want me anymore?"

"Of course I want you, Blitz. But what I want isn't the only thing that matters. I want to know what you want."

"... Uh..."

"Do you... not know?"

"Pft- Of course I know what I want! I- I want hot sex and gallons of liquor and a bloodbath every evening before I go to sleep in a big pile of money! That's what I want!

"That's... what I want..."

"... And... what do you want... from me?"

"... I... I uh...

"I dunno.

"I... didn't think I could ever... I never thought about that."

"... So... you need time to think about it?"

"I mean, maybe? I don't... I don't... this is all so fucking complicated..."

"It doesn't have to be. We can... start over. If you wanted to. Or, again, if you never want to see me again-"

"No!

"I... I do. Wanna see you again. I... I like seeing you."

"... You do?"

"... Yeah."

...

"... I think I don't know what I'm doing, actually."

"Heh. Yeah, sure seems that way.

"I, uh... I don't either, really."

"... But you want to see me again?"

"I just said that, didn't I?"

"Blitz. Please. Look at me.

"Do you want to... try? With me?"

"... I... I don't fucking know. Maybe? I- I don't want you to go away forever. I... I want you to stick around."

"For as long as you'll have me. Any way you'll have me."

"... You really mean that, don't you?"

"Of course I do."

"... You don't... you don't know me, Stolas. You don't know what I'm really like."

"I would like to. I really would. If you want to show me."

"... I don't know. I don't know- anything. ... I... I'm not a good person, Stolas. I'm... really fucking selfish. And a fuckup. And worthless. And annoying, and abrasive, and mean, and horny, and stupid, and- and so many things. Fuck, I even hurt you when you were just trying to...

"That's what I'm really like, Stolas. Yelling at you, pushing you away, acting like a fucking moron... that's who I really am."

"... I apologise for any possible offense, but I don't believe you."

"Huh?"

"You're right that you can be rude, abrasive, pushy, loud... but those are all things that I like about you. And even beyond that- I can see that you're more than a fuckup. You started your own business, you adopted a daughter, you made me realize where I was going wrong in my life. You have shown me so much, Blitz. All that I want is to show you the brilliant, strong, caring, beautiful man I see when I look at you. Please, just... even if it's just as friends. I want to show you what I see when I look at you. That's all."

"... Did I hypnotize you with my dick or something?"

"... I don't like you because of the sex, Blitz. I like you for the moments between. For who you are, not... what you can do for me. Please believe me on that."

"... You... you can't just..."

"Blitz. Please. Let me see you."

"... I... I don't know how."

"Hah! I don't either. Again, I really have no idea what I'm doing. But... I would like to find out. With you. If you'll have me."

"... Okay!"

"Really? Okay? You're sure?"

"No the fuck I'm not sure, this is terrifying! But hey, scary stuff turns me on, so why not?"

"I don't want you to agree if you're unsure, Blitz."

"I'm never gonna be sure. Not until I try it. So... so okay! Let's do this. Let's... let's try."

"We'll take it slow. Start from... friends. How does that sound?"

"... Can we still fuck?"

"That... depends. Do you... like fucking me?"

"I mean, yeah. You're kinda ridiculously hot."

"Oh, my, hahah... But, beyond that, though?"

"... Maybe we can just... stick to simple stuff for a while. Like, uh... I dunno. Cuddlefucking. We could do that."

"Whatever you like, Blitzy."

"... Could we... right now? Not the fucking part, but the... cuddling... part."

"I would love nothing more, my dear."

"Right. Cool."

"Comfortable?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm comfy."

"Are you sure? You're... erm... shaking, a bit."

"What? Am I? Nahhh, that's crazy, why would I be shaking, it's not like I'm absolutely fucking terrified right now! Totally cool!"

"We don't have to-"

"No!

"... Don't go anywhere. Please."

"Of course not. I'm right here. Whatever you like."

"... And this is... fine for you. You're fine with this."

"Absolutely. I'm perfectly happy like this. As long as you are."

"Yeah. Okay. Cool."

"... Blitz...?

"Oh, my darling, sh, sh, sh... It's alright. It's alright."

"... I... I don't know why... w-why can't I- stop-?"

"Sh, sh, sh, it's alright, it's alright. Just breathe, alright? You're alright. You're alright."

"I- fuck, I know, I kn-know-"

"Just let it out, my dear. Just let it out. It's okay."

"H-hang on, wait, wait, I need- need to-"

"Oh, alright, alright, okay. Do you want me to-"

"Stay. Please. J-just. Just don't... u-uh..."

"Here. Is this...?"

"Yeah, k-keep, keep doing- yeah. Mhm."

"Alright. Alright. I'm not going anywhere. Take your time, love."

"I-I'm, such a fucking mess..."

"I don't mind. You've certainly seen me quite a mess before, after all."

"Hahahaha! Y'know what? I have!"

"... Feeling better, I hope...?"

"I dunno. That was probably the worst love confession anyone's ever done. Not sexy at all."

"Well, sexy didn't happen to be what I was going for.

"... You really meant it? That you... want me by your side?"

"... Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"... Thank you. I swear, I'll make it all up to you."

"Oh, boy. So it's your turn to cry now, huh?"

"Ah, I apologise-"

"Stop it. You're fine. Fair's fair, right? And besides... you're already making it up to me. And... I'll... make it up to you, too."

"You didn't-"

"Just let me say the thing, and you can cry in my arms, and then we can... I dunno. Do whatever."

"... Whatever sounds nice."

[gothamite-rambler]

Wonder Mom with Jason Todd

Wonder Woman: Batman, you still have the youngling?

Batman looked at Robin (Jason Todd, 13) who hid behind a pillar while peeking out and looking at Diana.

Batman (begging): Yes... don't do it.

Wonder Woman (defiant): I have to do it.

Batman: No you really don't! He's not going to want to do anything else. He can't say no to you! Do not do it.

Wonder Woman (mischievous): I have to with the knowledge that it bothers you not.

Wonder Woman walked over to the pillar where Jason was hiding intimidated by the woman.

Wonder Woman (warm smile): Hello, young warrior!

Jason (stammering): H- Hi.

WW: Aww, look at your face you're so adorable.

Jason: Oh God Wonder Woman called me adorable? This is the best day ever!

WW: And it will get better because I would like to ask, would you like to spend a day with me? It can be tiring being a sidekick and I just want you to have a fun day with my fan.

Batman shook his head at Jason.

Jason: I would love to!

Jason hugged Wonder Woman.

WW: All right, Batman we will be back from the arcade in two hours.

Batman: Two hours?!

Wonder Woman took Jason Todd with her and Batman sat there futile to stop it.

Superman (smirking): She is the only person you fear, isn't she?

Batman: I'm not responding that. If you'll excuse me, I need to call my oldest son and tell him to get here so I can do this mission! God damn it, Diana.

Batman left to call Nightwing.

Superman (chuckling): Nightwing won't like that.

[ophelliate]

Mikey here to share a slice of pizza with you and hoping to become good friends!

He also sends wishes to you that you do well in the competition! :D

did i forget to tell yall that leo's also basically amish

(bonus interaction under the cut)

[trigunwritings]

hello helloo!! can i request for wolfwood x fem/gender neutral reader please? maybe they both grew up in the same orphanage or knew each other from somewhere and they had a reunion? can be fluffy or smutty or maybe angsty (but with a happy ending please because im a coward 😀). thank you! 🙌

It’s hard not to wince as the cloth is pulled tight around your thigh—still, the moment of pain is worth not losing so much blood and passing out across the floor of this long-forgotten building. Deft hands are quick to tie a knot and keep the makeshift bandages in place, but the motion is not without a soft chuckle of amusement coming from your savior beside you.

“I see you’re not so much of a crybaby anymore,” he says, tone gentle yet prodding in a way you hadn’t heard for a long time. It almost makes your chest hurt a little. “You’d be sobbing at so much as a scratch back then.”

“Well,” you huff, unsure whether to be annoyed or grateful, but eventually deciding on a soft sense of regret. “Everyone has to grow up eventually. After you left the orphanage, it…”

The words trail off. Neither of you try to pick them back up.

Instead, Nicholas simply leans back against the wall, eyes gazing across the dusty room that the two of you had taken shelter within. A sandstorm whipped outside, with winds so strong it made the door rattle and shake.

“…At least the windows are properly sealed,” he murmurs, halfway to himself. You nod silently in agreement and stare down at the bandage wrapped around your leg. Though the bullet missed major arteries and the caliber wasn’t that large, it still hurt like a fire twisting itself around your bones.

Eventually, you lean back against the wall beside him, idly watching as he tugs out a cigarette from his jacket pocket and lights it in one quick motion. The man takes a long, slow drag from it, then pulls it from his lips and holds it in front of you with a smirk.

The urge to swipe at his hand is almost innate, but so is Nicholas’ motion to pull the cigarette back towards him.

“That is a horrible habit to have.”

“And so is breathing in lungfuls of sand every time there’s a wind,” he flicks soft ashes to the floor, “so honestly I think smoking is the least of my worries right now. Everyone’s got a vice.”

“That’s not true!”

The man’s eyes flick towards you from behind his glasses with a lazy gaze amidst a cocky smile that, for a moment, mirrored the memory of a young boy who likened to smoke raw witflax from hollowed out bones and try to hide it from the caretakers.

“Oh, so you mean to tell me that you never hoarded every stuffed toy you came across?”

You narrow your eyes and restrain the need to shove him.

“That’s not the same at all.”

“A vice doesn’t have to be drugs, you know,” he shrugs and flicks the ashes from the end of his cigarette again. “Just something that makes someone a little less miserable on this hellhole. Alcohol, wealth, sex—or exactly twenty-two toys and trinkets kept beneath a loose board under your bed.”

There’s a moment of shock that passes through your mind, but it quickly fades into reluctant acceptance. “Of course you knew about that,” you murmur, heat gently building up across your cheeks. “Listen, we were kids and I just… enjoyed having things I didn’t need to share with anyone.”

“I’m not judging you,” Nicholas says, tone surprisingly stern and soft. “Just pointing out the similarity is all.”

“There is still no similarity between collecting trinkets as a child and chain-smoking through an entire pack of cigarettes in less than a day. It’s already making you look older—you’re gonna start getting wrinkles soon, you know.”

As if to spite you, the man tosses away the stub he’d smoked through and grabs a second from his jacket pocket, then lights it without pause. He takes another long drag from the cigarette and turns his head to offer you a smirk.

“Well lets just see what kills me first; the desert or the smoking.”

It’s meant as a joke. You know that it’s meant as a joke, a jest, just something to prod you like how he would when the two of you were kids. But there’s just something about the notion of losing Nicholas for a second time that just….

You reach out and grab his sleeve before you can stop your mind from asserting the motion. Like a scared child, clutching onto his jacket with an expression that must have looked dire.

“Please don’t say things like that,” you murmur, barely able to meet his eyes. “It’s not funny.”

He’s silent for a few moments. At first you wonder if he’s going to push your hand away—after all, it’s been so long since the two of you had last seen one another, he could have been a different person entirely than the one you once knew. But instead of pushing you away, he slowly reaches his free arm around your shoulders and tugs you against his side.

“I’m not gonna die,” Wolfwood murmurs, breathing in one last puff of his cigarette before flicking it to the ground and watching the embers slowly die away.

“…You promise?”

There’s a few seconds of silence. Then two soft, unsure words.

“I promise.”

[thepeonysbackup]

||"Hit me.." || Ao'nung x Sully!Na'vi!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, thigh riding, slapping, soft dom reader, subby ao'nung, soft kuru-play.

Summary: You've had enough of Ao'nungs teasing in public, but now that you're both alone, you're about to take him into your soft, capable hands.

Here ya filthy animals!!!!

[ The sound of skin meeting skin echoed momentarily before the Metkayinans voice cut it in half with his staggered moan, the sight of the red building upon his teal cheek almost immediately making itself known. "Mawey.." You urged the hand you'd used coming back down to gently brush the spot you'd so roughly wounded, the length of your hand drawling down his neck to the bare flat of his chest. Oh, the sight of him, eyes blurring with big puffy tears, his ears flat against his head in submission, hands helplessly trying to move you across the length of his thigh. "B-but Y/n— I-I-It's been-" You hushed him, palm now flat against his torso to aid you in leverage as you stroked your aching core across his strong leg, the outline of your delicate pussy lips beckoning the slick to pool and spread through the fabric. "You're doing so well, so so well.. Just a little more for me.. Yes, just like that 'Nung!~"

The throb of his member didn't go unnoticed at your side, just the sight of its thick girth and lengthy shaft making your head go into a lustful and desire filled tizzy. "Yaaawne— Ngh- Please-" The boy begged below you, hips bucking harshly into the air, the embarrassingly loud slap of his member against his stomach making your lips curl mischievously upward before you teasingly let out a haughty moan while sliding your body up once again on his thigh. Finally, your fingers found their way to him, the delicate palm of your hand wrapping around his cock firmly before jerking it forward to hear his staggered and choked breaths. The pace was set, and his voice ever growing as you wiggled in his lap, hips spreading the schlick that connected his thigh to the pulsing heat of your needy cunt.

"Ao'nung—" The softness was gone from your throat, the feeling now being scratched at the very back of it, strained with each and every sound that left as your beloved took hold of your braided kuru in his palm as he brought it up to his lips to gently nip at the tentacles that danced in search of his own queue. The bright strings entwined onto his tongue, connecting with a hiss to him as he sucked and lapped needily for you. He was begging, the feeling so obvious you could feel it in your queue as your hips picked up in pace, that coil returning to your stomach tenfold as it had earlier. Ao'nung writhed, rubbing his cock the best he could against your hand as you lightly began to tug and get him pulsing with a need.

"Fuck, yawne- Y-yawne please!–" ]

[radioactive-earthshine]

Obsessed with Thad cornering Kon one day and begging him to talk to Bart about taking better care of his curly hair. Because Kon, a curly boy, actually takes care of his hair and it shows.

Thad: conner, you need to talk to your boyfriend about his hair. his hair 'routine' is abominably atrocious.

Kon: Doesn't he just 'fall in a sink?'

Thad: it's worse, he uses that two-in-one shit.

Kon: It's way better than what he was doing, did he tell you about how he used Dawn dish soap when he first showed up in this time?

Thad: visibly recoiling:: no. and he's lost about 10% of my respect just for that.

Kon: So he has about 70% of your respect now considering the last time you docked respect points.

Thad: it's more than others but it's about to go down again if he doesn't start taking serious care of his hair.

Kon: Why do I have to talk to him about his hair? It's fine!

Thad: our hair is curly, conner. curly! you know how much work curly hair needs!

Kon: Well, yeah I do. But I also sort of like the floof Bart rocks.

Thad: ... your tastes are barbaric.

Kon: Oh yeah? Says the dude who uses a steaming flatiron to burn their curls straight every day!

Thad: i have a hair routine which is methodical and carefully executed with hair health in mind despite my harsher methods. bart just strives for whatever method is the quickest without considering the long-term damage where sometimes 'falling in a sink' is his only routine. seriously. help him.

Kon: It really killed you when you were pretending to be Bart and you had to adopt his hair routine, didn't it?

Thad: it took my hair 8 months to recover...

Note: Thad's lowercase speech is intentional.

[here-there-be-drag0ns]

and if i said i am having ambitions outside of the time i have to dedicate to them again? what then, huh?

[prideofcelestia]

❝grocery shopping with him❞

« characters - demon brothers, solomon, diavolo»

« gender neutral reader »

« headcanons »

LUCIFER

He is very efficient. Knowing exactly where every aisle is, the shopping basket is full in the blink of an eye. You are there only to keep him company. Time with you is precious and he intends to keep you close whenever the opportunity presents itself.

He scans the prices and brands before making a decision. He gets the best coffee beans directly from the plantations and he pays them well. He is “husband goals” if you are of an economic mind. He has a lot of coupons but his pride forbids him from using those. Beel is only too happy to receive it from his eldest brother. Owing to his busy schedule, he sometimes gets the necessities delivered. The bored cashier straightens up and greets him very respectfully.

He insists on carrying the bags himself and doesn’t listen to your protests.

MAMMON

Well, he’s scared to visit some stores because he hasn’t paid them back for decades. He is very particular about the stores you two can visit. Once there, he vanishes to check out the shelves and schemes about what he can sell for a higher price.

“After all, demons would pay extra to buy it from THE Great Mammon. We can send the bill to Lucifer. Hahaha,” says Mammon with a bunch of mismatched stuff in his shopping basket.

The burden of completing the shopping falls on you.

You sigh, “Let’s get it done before Lucifer calls and asks for dinner.”

You two carry the shopping bags together.

He buys you a gift while browsing.

LEVIATHAN

He is incapable of completing this mission alone. You must accompany him as he makes a comeback in the outside world in what feels like an eternity! His eyes dart to and fro as if afraid that someone will be disgusted by his presence.

“Where can we get this item, [Name]?” he asks for literally everything on the list.

You give him a tour for the future despite him refusing to follow.

“Levi, you should know where everything is!”

He literally gags when he sees seafood and runs away as fast as he can.

“Levi, wait! You can’t go out with the basket without paying first!”

You apologise for him but keep supporting him. You carry all the bags because he looks shaken and weak.

ASMODEUS

“Oh, [Name], look at these cute shaped cookies. We should definitely get these for my Devilgram!”

Within a few minutes, he has gotten everything in the store that’s not on the list.

“Asmo,” you say breathlessly as you try to catch up to him, “We need to buy groceries for dinner! We can’t eat chocolates and cookies… is that lip gloss? Let’s grab some vegetables!”

Asmo pouts but you shield your eyes from his cuteness. “No, Asmo! It’s been an hour. We should get started now. Plus, the two of us can’t carry all that!”

That’s when he gives up. “You are right. Maybe we can come back some other time. Let’s get the food before Lucifer gets mad.”

He returns some items since it got too heavy and then you two easily carry it to HOL.

SATAN

He’s very methodical and knows where the best deals are to be found! The shopkeepers know him only too well. Oh, vegetables? He knows a place where you can get fresh ones. Ah toiletries? Why, allow him to show you where good quality yet cheap toilet paper can be found. Name it!

Owing to his influence, he never returns from a shopping trip without getting everything that’s on his list - even if it’s sold out everywhere.

“I must get fresh ingredients to prove that my food is better than Lucifer’s,” he grins as he starts dinner preparations. “Oh, and try this coffee. The beans are a delicacy. I stayed awake for 2 days after drinking half a cup. I completed an entire series by a writer I like.”

“Sounds dangerous for the health, Satan.”

BEELZEBUB

You accompany him to make sure that he doesn’t eat the grocery store while he’s at it. He listens to you and tries to control himself but his hands still stretch to grab some food items that nobody should eat raw. So you have to devote half of your attention picking items for dinner and the other half to make sure that Beel doesn’t cause a lot of trouble.

“I’ll make you something you will enjoy for dinner so just wait for a bit longer, bub,” you promise and he behaves.

The rest of the trip is spent imagining all the delicacies that he will request you to make.

He carries all the bags back.

BELPHEGOR

He’s too lazy to care.

“Why didn't you ask one of my brothers to do the shopping in your place?” Belphie groans, looking drowsy. The supermarket was not his idea of an ideal date. “You know that they would have been only too happy to do it if you had asked. Then we could have taken a nap together instead.”

You put some onions in the basket and turn towards him wearily. “But it was my turn today. I can't always drop the burden on someone else. Besides,” your tone softens, almost apologetic, “Why don't I make something you like tonight? Something light on the stomach that will help you get good dreams?”

He narrows his eyes but looks pleased, “It seems that I am no different than my brothers. I can't say no to you. You make me melt. What can I say? You know me too well… ”

You carry the bags while he carries a pillow.

DIAVOLO

He tags along to spend time with you. The idea of chatting with you while doing the most mundane daily activities appeals to him. It’s sweet and endearing and he likes to stop talking and instead observe you deciding between two brands. These are Barbatos’ duties so he never gets the chance to enjoy these. He seems to be familiar with tea and coffee and can guide you about the best ones, even though he rarely drinks store-bought beverages.

He bombards you with questions about what you usually buy and make for dinner and promises to join you again if he's free.

He won’t let you carry the bags. Let him help you. Whoever sees the demon prince with grocery bags in his hands feels startled. Even royal demons are involved in housework! Mothers will be telling this story to the little ones for centuries to come.

SOLOMON

Solomon takes his time since you are there with him. A man needs to relax after researching all day.

“Ah look at this leafy cabbage. This was grown at the Hellfire Plantation. They use a special kind of manure. It’s very tasty,” he says and buys two.

The extent of his knowledge is bizarre. When he catches you looking mystified, he laughs. “Haha you look so suspicious of me. I am sorry. For some time in the last century, I took special interest in learning about the agricultural and rearing practices in the Devildom.”

“Wow Solomon,” you say impressed. “There seems to be nothing you don’t know!”

“Haha, that’s kind of you but there’s still a lot to learn about the world.”

“Thank you for coming shopping with me. Why don’t we return to Purgatory Hall? I will treat you to my cooking?” he offers with a satisfied smile.

Your instinct tells you to run but you ignore it and smile shakily instead. “Eh… ah… I actually promised Levi that I will play games with him tonight. Sorry! Maybe next time?”

That's when your legs start moving in the opposite direction, deserting him with all the bags.