#they're reckless your honor

[miitarashi]

[Name],with her clothes dirty and some little injuries: In my defense, I was left unsupervised.

Haddock: Wasn't Tintin with you?

Tintin,also dirty and with some wounds at [Name]'s side: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised.

[crystalsandbubbletea]

Finally got out of artistic block-

So I made this as a result!

Izmir Yukime and her girlfriend Macey Adamski-Balchunas!

So some backstory: Izmir was setting the lights for some dance show Macey was participating in, but of course, Izmir wasn't paying attention to where she was walking (It is in the Yukime blood to be reckless, lol-). Fortunately Macey was there to catch her reckless girlfriend.

(This is probably the last time I do artwork that has dialogue-)

[cephalog0d]

Batfic - "Hitch A Ride"

Rating: Teen and Up (language) Category: Gen Characters/Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd Additional Tags: Jason Todd is Robin, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Canon Compliant (ish, at least Strongly Canon Adjacent), Referencing Nightwing Year One (1996/Vol 2 Nightwing) Words: 1,185

“This is an important skill for you have if you’re gonna do this job, Boy Wonder,” Dick continued by way of explanation. “I hate that you let that be a thing,” Jason groaned. Dick pretended not to hear him and kept talking.

Full text under the cut or over on AO3

“This is stupid,” Jason said, his face set in a scowl as he looked down at the elevated train track below them.

“Hey, this was Alfred’s idea,” Dick countered with a grin. Jason snorted derisively.

“Pretty sure Alf meant something a lot less dangerous. Getting ice cream or something.”

“It’s Gotham, getting ice cream is still plenty dangerous,” Dick pointed out, earning a clearly very begrudging smirk before Jason schooled his expression again. “We can do that after, though, if you want,” Dick offered. He wasn’t sure what to make of the way Jason’s gaze snapped to him, and the mask made it harder to parse small changes in expression, but he thought maybe that was surprise. At how easily Dick had agreed, or that he had agreed at all? Either way, he made a mental note to try to find somewhere still open when they were done. Something was always open in Gotham. And maybe not even a criminal front, if they were lucky.

“Sure, if I’m not road pizza first,” Jason mumbled, returning his glare to the tracks.

“Relax, kid, I didn’t let you fall before, did I?” Dick resisted the urge to do something truly obnoxious like ruffle the kid’s hair, but he did shift his weight a little to quickly nudge his shoulder against Jason’s. Sure they hadn’t spent that much time together, but give him a little credit. He hadn’t been willing to let that happen even before he decided he kind of liked the new Robin, there was no way he was going to let it happen now. (If nothing else, because Alfred would absolutely murder him if he didn’t bring the kid back in one piece.)

Jason’s head turned just a little, like maybe he was side-eyeing Dick behind his lenses, but he didn’t argue. He just kept frowning, one hand fidgeting a little with his cape in what Dick suspected was an unconscious nervous gesture.

“Still don’t see what’s wrong with your bike,” Jason muttered a little defensively.

“Nothing, my bike is awesome,” Dick said cheerfully. “You don’t get to drive it, though.” Well, not yet anyway. Give it a little bit and maybe. He had gathered from Alfred that Jason had a fondness for Bruce’s vehicles, both civilian and otherwise. Bruce would definitely disapprove, but if anything that was just extra incentive. In fact, Dick was pretty sure that was one of the duties of being whatever big-brother-adjacent role he was in now.

“Besides, this is an important skill for you have if you’re gonna do this job, Boy Wonder,” Dick continued by way of explanation.

“I hate that you let that be a thing,” Jason groaned. Dick pretended not to hear him and kept talking.

“Bikes have to deal with traffic, and they draw attention, and you have to worry about where you left it and make sure you can get back to it. But you always know where the train tracks are, and I’m guessing you even probably know when they are, too, right?” He hadn’t needed Alfred to tell him that Jason was a Gotham native, he just needed to hear his accent the first time he spoke.

“Well duh, I live here,” Jason said. His tone was dismissive, like that was no big deal, but his shoulders dropped a little and he lifted his chin a bit with quiet pride at the acknowledgment. Dick certainly remembered how hard it had been to get anything except “do better” out of Bruce back when he was starting as Robin, and it wasn’t like he had gotten more complimentary over the years, so Dick was guessing that it wasn’t much different for Jason.

“Exactly. So it’s a pretty surefire way to get somewhere in a hurry, or get away from somewhere in a hurry, and it’s a lot sneakier. Most bad guys, even in Gotham, aren’t going to be real eager to follow you that way.”

“I guess.” Jason still did not sound entirely convinced, but he also didn’t look as much like he was trying to burn holes in the tracks with his mind.

“That, and it’s fun!” Dick said with the kind of broad grin that tended to get him sidelong looks from his teammates. It had the same effect on Jason, apparently, as not even the mask could hide his deeply suspicious look.

Dick didn’t entirely blame him for his hesitance; it wasn’t like his last attempt at this had gone all that well. But last time Dick hadn’t actually given him any kind of guidance, besides making sure he didn’t actually go splat onto the pavement. This was different.

He was guessing if he tried to point that out, though, it would just get Jason’s hackles up, so he bit back the reassurance he might otherwise have offered and focused on the guidance part.

“The big thing is to stay low and wide. The flatter you are, the easier it is to keep your balance. The other thing is to stay loose. You need to move with the motion of the car, not try to stay in one position. If you can land yourself near something to hold onto that definitely doesn’t hurt either, obviously. Make sense?”

“Sure,” Jason said slowly. He was still frowning, but it was a bit more thoughtful than anything. Behind them, Dick heard the clatter of the train and ran a quick mental calculation on timing.

“Oh, one more thing, very important,” he said with all the seriousness he could muster. The tone was enough to get Jason to turn and look up at him. Dick held his gaze for a couple of seconds before grinning hugely and reaching out to push at the corners of Jason’s mouth with his fingers, forcing them upward.

“Have fun!” he said brightly. He obviously got immediately slapped away, and punched in the sternum for good measure, which did not at all prevent him from cracking up at the outraged look on Jason’s face. Frankly, Dick was genuinely a little surprised he didn’t get bit. (Maybe if he wasn’t wearing gloves that had been touching god only knew what on Gotham streets all night. Still would’ve been worth it.)

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Jason snapped, swiping at his cheeks.

“Language, little wing,” Dick chided, the reproach only slightly undermined by how he was still laughing.

“Wha- I’ve heard you say worse!”

“You can’t prove a fucking thing.” The wink probably didn’t translate all that well under his own mask, but whatever. It was the thought that counted. He kept going before Jason could fire back. “Here it comes, you ready?”

“Yes, if it means you’ll finally shut up about it.” Jason shifted his stance, crouching in preparation and watching the tracks with surprising focus for someone who ostensibly didn’t care and didn’t even want to be there.

“Let’s see what you’ve got, Robin.”

Dick was definitely not imagining the hastily suppressed flash of a smile, or the notable lack of hesitance as the train passed under them and Jason launched himself at it, with Dick right behind.

((This is, if not 100% canon compliant (I didn't go back and double check every contemporary title) at least strongly canon adjacent to the Nightwing Year One version of their meeting, including the whole bit with Jason almost falling off a train (twice), with some very small bits of other versions thrown in (because if DC can remix backstories whenever they want so can I). Also some of that thing of Dick using a ton of nicknames for Jason before finally calling him Robin snuck in because I have a lot of Feelings about that.))

[frommybookbook]

Perry and Paul were 100% sharing this hotel room. In this scene, Perry told Paul "check us into this room for another night" and both their suitcases were there.

[fumikoshi]

Hello! How are you? I'll start by saying that I absolutely adore your writing. And I was reading the rules to make a somewhat facetious request of you. You see, in my request Y/n is Satoru Gojo's girlfriend and she makes a joke where, supposedly, she is unfaithful in her bed with Geto. But they're just joking, they wanted to get Satoru mad. But it all ends more or less in a way that he punishes his girlfriend with rough sex and criticizing her joke "Do you think you're funny?" I thank you in advance, and if my request makes you uncomfortable or you don't like it, you are free to ignore it. I love your writing. ❤️

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐣𝐨𝐤𝐞, 𝐡𝐮𝐡?

✧— SUMMARY; You just wanted to make a joke, but you had no idea he'd get so angry.

✧ — CONTENT; 18+ ONLY // MDNI, Spanking, Fingering, Dirty talk, Feral!Gojo, Humiliting, Verbal humiliting

"Do you think you're funny, little girl?" he growled, his voice laced with anger and disappointment. "Making jokes about fucking another man?"

He glared at you, his blue eyes cold and unyielding. He pinned your delicate body over his knee, your soft ass was red and sore from the relentless spanking. He ran a hand over the heated flesh, eliciting a sharp cry from you.

''Ah!''

He spanked you again, harder this time, making you jerk forward. "Say you're sorry," he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "Apologize for your filthy mouth and your stupid joke."

He could feel you squirming, and hear your sobs, but he didn't care this time. This was a lesson you needed to learn. "Count, sweetheart" he ordered, his hand poised to strike again. "Or I'll start all over again."

''T-ten''

''Too slow" Gojo snapped, bringing his hand down hard on your already sore ass. "Start over."

Your eyes widened in shock, not again... not again!

''N-no, T-toru-KYA!''

Your pleas were interrupted when he spanked you. Gojo's lips curled into a wicked smirk. "Ten, again." he said, his voice a low growl.

You wet your lips, pain radiating through your ass with every impact. you began to count, your voice shaking. "One… two… thr-"

Smack.

The pain was unbearable, tears streaming down your face. "Three… four… fif-"

Smack.

"S-six… sev-"

Smack.

"Ei-eight… n-nine… ten!"

He grabbed you by the hair, pulling you up so you were kneeling in front of him. You squealed cutely "Now, say you're sorry, and maybe, just maybe, I'll consider forgiving you."

"Sorry!" you cried out, tears streaming down your soft cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Toru! Please, I can't take anymore!"

Gojo chuckled, "That's right, cry for me, little girl. Maybe next time you'll think twice before opening that smart little mouth of yours."

He looked at you, his expression unreadable. Then, he released your hair and pushed you down onto your back. He loomed over you, his blue eyes filled with a fierce intensity.

"You're lucky I love you," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

Gojo paused, his hand resting on your reddened flesh. he murmured, his voice softer. He rubbed your back gently, feeling you shudder beneath his touch. His silence scared you…

He looks at you for a moment and says, “You should be thankful I didn't throw you out on the street. You should be honored to have the strongest sorcerer in the world. But you say nonsense and make me angry. I just wanted to come home and hug my girlfriend, but she makes jokes about cheating on me.''

He withdrew his hand, leaving you feeling empty and cold. "Now, stand up and bend over the bed." he ordered, his voice stern once again.

Oh god, what have you done? In that moment, the full weight of your actions bore down on you. You just wanted to play a silly joke, an attempt to provoke jealousy, but it had backfired severely. The coldness in his eyes, the icy tone of his voice, all of it was a direct result of your reckless actions.

You loved him, more than you could ever express. The thought of losing him caused a sharp pain in your chest, a physical representation of the emotional turmoil you were enduring. You didn't understand how things had spiraled so quickly, but there was no going back now.

You hesitated, but you knew that defying him at this point would only make matters worse. You slowly stood, your small hands trembling, before you bent over the bed, presenting your sore bottom to him.

You held your breath, awaiting his judgment, your heart a heavy weight that threatened to suffocate you. You were painfully aware, now more than ever, that you had gone too far, and the only thing left to do was face the consequences of your actions.

He laughed when he saw your wet pussy, a cruel sound that sent shivers down your spine. "You're a natural-born whore, aren't you?" he taunted, his fingers circling your slick entrance, teasing you without entering. "Soaking wet from a few spanks. Pathetic."

He leaned down, his breath hot on your ear. "Tell me, did you like being spanked? Did it make you horny, you little slut?"

He punctuated his words with a sharp slap to your ass, making you gasp and squirm. "Answer me," he demanded, his voice harsh.

"Y-yes…" you whimpered, your face flushing with humiliation and arousal. "It-it made me wet…"

Gojo tsked, shaking his head. "Such a naughty girl," he muttered, pushing two fingers roughly inside you. "But don't worry, I'll give you what you really want."

He pumped his fingers in and out of you, his thumb rubbing circles around your clit. You moaned, pushing back against his hand, seeking more friction. He chuckled, slowing his pace.

"Not so fast, little slut~" he said, his voice mocking. "I'm in charge here. You'll come when I say you can come."

He increased his pace, adding a third finger, stretching you. You gasped, your small hands clutching the sheets, your knuckles turning white. He could feel you're getting close, your inner walls tightening around his fingers.

But just as you were about to come, he pulled his fingers out of you. You whimpered in frustration

''Not yet, little girl. You will cum on my dick''

He watched you, he chuckled darkly, enjoying the control he had over your delicate body. He pushed you up, spinning you around until your tits were pressed against his broad chest. His erection, achingly hard, pressed against your back, demanding release.

He grabbed a handful of your hair, tilting your head back. "Beg for it, Y/N." he growled, his lips brushing against your ear. "Beg me for my cock, and I might grant your wish."

His free hand reached around, rubbing your clit again, just enough to keep you on the precipice of orgasm. He wanted to see you beg, to hear you plead for what he knew he would give you eventually.

Your eyes fluttered shut, a soft moan escaping your lips. "P-please, Toru, I need it… I need your cock…"

He smirked, loving that he had brought you to this point. He spun you around, positioning his throbbing cock at your entrance. "Good girl," he praised, thrusting into you slowly, filling you completely.

You let out a sharp gasp, your eyes widening in surprise. He began to move, setting a steady pace that gradually grew more fervent. His strong hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he fuck you

As he thrust in and out, he captured your lips in a passionate and rough kiss. His thick fingers tangled in your silky hair, tugging softly as he kissed you deeply.

"Cry for me, little girl." he growled against your soft lips, his voice hoarse with desire. "Scream for me as I make you mine."

He slammed into you harder, his pace growing more erratic, as he plunged into you, seeking his release. His breath hitched and his thrusts grew more frenzied, his skill precise in the way he hit that sweet spot inside of you.

He was closing, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. He could feel the heat building up inside of him, coiling like a serpent ready to strike. His thrusts grew more frantic, his movements uncontrolled as he chased that glorious peak.

"Let me feel how tight you are around my cock." he urged, his words thick and guttural.

The pressure within him was becoming unbearable, his cock swelling inside of you, so close to the edge. His free hand slid between your swollen folds, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts.

He could feel your inner walls clenching him tighter, your orgasm surging through you. That push was all he needed, his body tensing as he came inside of you, his hot seed filling you to the brim.

After a short while, he pulled out and collapsed next to you, his muscular body slick with sweat. A satisfied grin tugged at the corners of his lips as he gazed at the afterglow of their coupling. "Good girl." he murmured, planting a tender kiss on your forehead, basking in the sweet aftermath.

His fingers trailed over your reddened ass, you hissed from pain when he touched it. a sympathetic frown tugging at the corners of his lips. He knew he'd pushed you to your limits, but you pissed him off.

"I'll apply the ointment in a moment, to soothe that soreness," he assured you, his voice softening. There was no malice in his tone, only concern. "But don't make me punish you like this again, Y/N"

He gathered you in his arms, cradling you against his chest, his hand stroking your hair gently. The warmth of his body enveloped you, making you feel safe, despite the tenderness in your ass.

"You're mine and only mine, Y/N" he whispered, nuzzling the top of your head.

[mcflymemes]

AS SAID BY JASON TODD/ROBIN/RED HOOD *  assorted dialogue from multiple dc universe sources, adjust as necessary

i did it once for dramatic effect and it just got to be a habit.

you can't tell, but i'm dozing off under this mask.

a whole night in paris... and i managed to not kill anyone. not bad.

you made the same mistake everyone does when it comes to me.

i want to warn them... but i know i can't.

don't know, don't care. i got my hands full.

do you remember the last time we were together?

looks like you guys could use a hand!

i'm looking for someone.

i'm afraid it's about to get much worse.

the angry, reckless vigilante bit is my thing.

i'm not good or bad. i'm just practical as hell.

you and i are more alike than you realize.

i get it. starting over is scary as hell.

i don't even need to turn around to know that's you.

thanks for thinking of me. i'm happy to help. honored, even.

i generally have several madness-inducing hallucinations before breakfast.

nothing in the real world can be as frightening as what we can imagine... right?

you don't think i understand what it's like to be abandoned? forgotten?

i'll be damed if my best friend is going to die... because he was dumb enough to trust me.

i'm sorry. i'm never going to be the hero you want me to be.

next time i see you, i'm going to kick your butt for this dying crap.

you have ten seconds to walk way. nine... oh, screw it.

there are better ways to spend your energy.

that looks like it's gotta hurt. well, i say that like i'm speculating or something. i know it hurts.

we chose to be a family.

if there's hope for us... there's hope for everyone.

you still haven't figured it out?

life's just a game... and this time, you lose.

i seem to have made myself an enemy of all the bad guys.

it's too late. you had your chance.

i'm just getting started.

hard to forget that night, huh?

in a way, this was the site of your first great failure.

ah... memories.

you can't stop crime. that's what you never understood.

you want to rule them by fear, but what do you do to those who aren't afraid?

i'm doing what you won't.

i'm taking them out.

now tell me... how does it feel?

is that what you think this is about?

i don't know what clouds your judgement worse. your guilt or your antiquated sense of morality.

i forgive you for not saving me.

he took me away from you.

i am no one's son.

what do you think this was all about?

welcome to planet earth, baby.

fear isn't the answer.

you son of a bitch.

we were friends, helping each other pick up the pieces of our lives.

it might not be a popular thought, but not everyone wants to be alive.

can you hear it?

funny, i actually escaped death.

the past keeps dragging me back.

they're not monsters. they're victims of programming, abuse, and trauma.

they can change.

fact is, they're just like us.

we became something else.

you hurt a lot of people.

we don't discriminate here.

sometimes you don't know what you want 'til you learn what you don't.

trust? you? i'll give it a try. but i'll tell you right now, i'm probably going to screw it up.

guys like us? the life we lead? we're never truly alone.

i have no idea who you people are.

you pompous ass.

before i kill you, i want the truth.

i'd like to think i'm an open-minded guy.

sure it was fun. but does that mean it was right?

sometimes i wonder if i'm just part of the problem.

i'm not doing one more damn mission with them unless you get me someone i can trust to watch my back.

knew you couldn't do it.

it's official. class is in session.

[gfguren]

pro hero!kirishima x reader | angst?, fluff, childhood friends→lovers, best friend!kiri my beloved, 2.8k (apparently??) | cw: cursing, reader wears a dress

-eighteen, and heartbroken, you ghost your best friend. years pass, as do old feelings; coincidence brings you back together again-

They say old habits die hard, your heartbeat rings true.

It's been years—six, at least. Since you've seen Kirishima. And he's still there, in the library of things you've loved, thumbed and beloved, worn at the spine where you once folded the pages, one over the other, carelessly. Always carelessly. As if they'd stay the same through all the wear and tear. You were—careless—after all, eighteen, and foolish, feelings too big for your heart.

But that was okay. It always was, with him. Wherever you wanted to go, whatever you wanted to do. He was happy as long as you were—and so, so good to you; it was childish of you, but you almost wished that he wasn't.

Maybe it was some kind of teenage rebellion that you pushed it too far. Some kind of lashing out, 'getting even', that you kissed other boys, pretended be head over heels in love with anyone, everyone, but Kirishima. Because you did—love him—and not in the way he loved you, you were sure.

Because if he had—really had—he would have hesitated, would have hurt. Wouldn't have vetted your dresses, or wiped the smudge from beneath your eyes. Wouldn't have told you how pretty you looked without really looking at you at all. Wouldn't have drove you to meet other boys, or dried your tears when they made you cry, like all of your other friends did. The kinds you didn't want to kiss. The kinds you imagined a future with, but not with kids and a dog and a white picket fence.

It was obvious for you, came natural as breathing, you'd known him your whole life. Skinned knees, and awkward school dances. Your very first kiss, though it meant nothing at the time. Just kids—curious, and reckless, and definitely not in love. You thought it'd be like that forever, made sense that he'd always be at your side; maybe that's why it hurt the way it did when, suddenly, he just wasn't.

That awkward boy—indecisive and boisterous, good natured and yours—Kirishima. Eijirou. Who earned his first bloody nose at the age of ten, defending your honor over something juvenile and stupid, who walked you home every day after school, hand in yours, always; (for safety, of course), who left half of his belongings on your bedroom floor, in your closet, atop your dresser—hoodies and gadgets and pens, chewed at the cap. That Eijirou—your Eijirou—would always, surely, make his way back to you, right?

But he doesn't.

When summer ends, he leaves—your school, the little town you both grew up in,

—and you.

To do something good, to be something more. And he was. And you were proud of him, so proud, to see him grow and become the hero he always dreamed of being. But maybe that scared you too, because suddenly your Eijirou didn't feel so much like yours anymore.

He's gone with hardly a notice, returns with all the confidence in the world—a completely new person in a matter of months. Red hair and a smile like summertime sunshine; your heart skips, cheeks flush, a name is put to the feelings you've felt for as long as you can remember, for the very first time.

But nothing's changed, not for Eijirou, at least, who still spends his vacations beneath your parents' roof, within the four borders of your bedroom, crisscrossed legs and laughter that sounds just like it always has. But it hits you—when he speaks—how much things have changed for you. The stories he tells, the friends he's made and the things he's experienced. They're his. Just his.

And it shouldn't bother you. That you don't know the name of his homeroom teacher, or what he packed for lunch last week. That he doesn't know about all the evenings you've spent alone, or how you broke into tears when that cute senior boy asked you to the yearly formal, because Eijirou had promised—pinky promised—all those years ago, that he'd be the one to take you.

But that was before he had training, and internships, and hero obligations; things far, far more important than you were, you suppose.

But it shouldn't bother you, right? Shouldn't hurt the way it does when he packs his things from your room at the end of summer. You lose him bit by bit; pens and gadgets, and comic books you bought for him every single birthday, without missing a year. He takes your ("his") very favorite hoodie—red and worn at the cuffs, a tear up the side where you wrestled him to the ground, at age twelve. Some petty fight you don't even remember, and how you didn't speak to him for a week; that felt like a lifetime, then.

You've half a mind to ask for it, know for sure he'd offer it happily, though you're not sure you have that right anymore. You no longer share his life, after all, and he doesn't share yours; it's not until you're older, much older that you realize just how hard he tried to make it work anyway.

The weekly calls and the long drives back home to just see you for a month, a week, a day. How he gets his license, at eighteen. Rushes home from an internship to drive you to the little ice cream parlor at the edge of town.

You're crying, over a boy—though your heart wasn't really in it. How could it be, when it's been checked out since the age of six? When the more years that pass, the more you fall for your very best friend, the stronger his absence becomes, the more bitter your heart grows. You're crying, over a boy—but not the one who stood you up.

You're just, frustrated, that he's oblivious to it all. Still. And so damn nice about it—always. That's he's perfectly content to dry your tears, has the audacity to tell you that guy was an idiot, totally unmanly, that 'any man would be lucky to have you'.

But not Eijirou. Never Eijirou.

And for the first time, you think you hate him. For missing the hearts in your eyes, and growing up just fine, without you. For talking like it's totally fine if you end up with someone that isn't him. And vice versa.

That he reaches for your hand on the way back to his car, like you're still just kids, and it means nothing at all.

—and that you let him; as if it means nothing to you either.

But fuck, it does. Always has. And maybe that's why you justify it, when you disappear after graduation—a new phone and town, and a future that doesn't include Eijirou. Kirishima. The way you're convinced he wanted; he's always been fine without you, after all.

It's petty and it's childish. And it's hard—like turning a page you've been stuck on your entire life—but you do, and the world doesn't end without him, like you thought that it might. You're fine, not even all that sad. Just a little empty for a while.

The years pass easily, as do old feelings and the ache in your chest. You get busy. With work, and hobbies, your dreams and hopes and aspirations. You don't have the time to dwell about what could have been.

At twenty-two, you fall in love, and it doesn't last. But not because there's someone stuck in your heart, like a thorn that just burrows deeper. Life happens, and you pull apart, naturally—like adults do—communication, and mutual agreement; the way you wish you'd been mature enough to handle your feelings all those years ago.

Maybe you'd still have your oldest friend by your side, then.

Somehow summer sneaks up on you, everytime—the third week of June, when you visit your parents in the same little town that's always changing. Streets busier than ever and pavement redone, ice cream parlor on the edge of town gone and replaced with a brick and mortar grocery. It makes it easier, you think, to not be reminded of Kirishima—and the way you left without so much as a goodbye.

You haven't forgotten him, far from it. Somehow you still find yourself in the comic section of the bookstore every October. But at some point, you forget his favorite foods and the way his hand felt in yours. When you see his house across the street, you think of his mother instead, and the way she greets you every time, like you're her second child. Her 'favorite', you used to joke.

It's bittersweet.

Six summers, and you manage to avoid him. Six summers and you come to terms with never seeing him again. Six summers, and he's there, suddenly—beneath your parents' roof, within the four borders of your childhood bedroom. Your heart beats like it might burst.

"Kirishima," you say, choking down your surprise with deep, careful breaths.

He turns to you then; four wooden borders squeezed carefully between two strong hands. The scar above his brow is baby pink, barely there, and he stands a little taller, you think, feels a little broader at the chest, and around his shoulders. You've seen him on tv, of course, in the news, in pictures, occasionally, but it's different—seeing him in person, after so long.

A true proper hero, standing there in your childhood bedroom, holding an old photo you'd all but forgotten about; two kids, faded ink and scuffed glass—hearts in your eyes, if he happened to look closer.

"Hi." His voice is a little deeper, smile a little softer when your eyes meet.

"Hi."

You feel a little helpless, truth be told. You'd spent so long avoiding him, so many years forgetting the casual conversation you'd once carried. You never considered what to say, if you were to meet again, never thought that you might. But here you are, after all this time.

You want to tell him you're proud, you think. The way you couldn't bring yourself to all those years ago. Want to tell him that you're sorry, for more reasons than one. Want to tell him he looks good, that you got the job he always said you would, that you worried about him, from time to time.

Instead, there's a tentative—"What are you doing here?"—that sticks in your throat.

As if it matters.

"Ran into your parents at the grocery," he answers, casually, "they asked me to stay for dinner."

And yet.

He sets the picture face up—where it once lied face down, forgotten in the eaves of your bookcase.

He's here; in your bedroom. Looking through your things, like he missed you.

You wring your hands together. Return the feelings you start to reach for, instinctively. A little book in the library of things you're predisposed to, catalogued under: Getting Ahead of Yourself.

"Are you?" the words are eager, the pages fall loose. You catch them, before he does. "Staying for dinner?"

It takes all of three steps, (you think it might have been five, once), for him to make his way from the bookcase to your bed. It creaks woefully when he sits, "Would that be okay with you?"

"Yeah," your voice nearly betrays you, "yeah, it would."

His shoulders unwind, chest falls. He breathes—easy. And then he laughs, boyish and yours.

"What's so funny," you gravitate towards him, naturally, suitcase forgotten at the door. The bed dips at his side and your shoulder playfully bumps his, "huh?"

The corners of his mouth crease at the edges, aged deep just like yours. "When did we become so boring?"

You hum—almost melancholy, picking at the splotches of red that still stain your comforter. "It's been six years, Kirishima."

"Yeah," he says, a little more pensive, "you look good."

Your heart skips, cheeks flush. Suddenly you're sixteen again, and pawing at the hem of your sundress, searching for his approval from the corner of your eye.

He's not looking at you, but it's different this time; or maybe it's exactly the same, and he's always been this way. Maybe you were just blind to it, sixteen and oblivious to the hand that wrings itself around the back of his neck, the red tinge that burns his ears.

But honestly, probably, you're searching for subtext that doesn't exist. Still, "So do you," the words come easy, "saw you at that award ceremony—on tv, I mean. Couldn't believe that was my Eijirou."

His head dips, eyes shimmer red; sweeter than wild strawberries. "Your Eijirou?"

'Yeah." You feel a bit self conscious, truth be told, though you've said it a hundred times. "Aren't you?"

His smile spreads like a yawn, from the depths of his chest, suddenly there and unshakable. Contagious—what was his, now yours as well. "Always have been."

Your chest tightens, every beat of your heart hammering at your ribcage. You still love him, after all this time. "How long will you stay?"

"Until dinner, at least."

"No, I mean," you sigh, heart spilling to your sleeves, "how long will you be in town?"

"I,-" It's lethargic, the way he blinks, throat bobs, smile falls, slow and pensive and so unlike him, "I moved back a while ago." Surprise washes over your face, rests in your brow, and he answers, before you have the chance to ask, "it's been two summers now."

You're not sure what that feeling is, gnawing at your heart and making you sick to your stomach—

"I'm sure you knew I came to visit," your voice is a murmur, eyes misty and searching for an excuse to meet everything but his, "you could have said 'hi'."

He hums, an almost sigh, "Wasn't sure you wanted me to."

—Guilt, that's what it is. It plummets, and swells, until you can feel it in your throat.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." A warm hand falls over yours, fingers curling—friendly, reassuring. You appreciate it for what it is. "I get it."

You've loved him for so long, known him for even longer, turned every page until the ink began to wear. But for the first time, you think you can see his heart bleeding between the lines.

"You're not doing that, don't you dare blame yourself, Kirishima Eijirou."

"You were lonely, weren't you? After I left for UA," his jaw goes rigid, every bit of shame clenched between his teeth, "should've tried harder to make it work, could've visited more often, could've taken an internship closer to home, could've,"

"—said," you click your tongue, stern as can be, "you're not doing that."

You pinch the corner of his sleeve, rolled red fabric over strong arms; he doesn't flinch at the coaxing, instead he turns to take your shoulders between his hands, "'m sorry."

You wrangle them from you, lying his palms at your lap, squeezed in between your own. "Damnit Ei, you didn't do anything wrong," you know for certain that he would've packed you in his suitcase if he could, would've dragged you along to every course and internship and oh-so-important hero happening, but you had your own life to live—and so did he. "You were following your dreams, who am I to get in the way of that?"

"My best friend, my other half, besides," his shoulders square, chest puffs, all brawn and ego and Eijirou; but his hands tremble unsurely, "I liked you," his wavering voice is still confident, somehow, confession long overdue, "and I'm sure that's not what you wanted to hear from me after so long, but," his hands leave yours to worry his hair, all finely gelled and pushed back, now tousled and falling softly at his forehead, "I didn't want to regret it for another six years."

You feel like you're drowning, pulled under a tide of feelings new and old. Confused, and euphoric, and so, so stupid. He liked you. He liked you and you never had a clue. The irony makes you dizzy.

Your head breaches the surface, and finally you can breathe, deep and burning lungs expanding, expanding, and trembling—a stream of salt and water hits your cheeks and falls past your lips. Eijirou is quick wipe away the tears, a palm at each cheek, wide eyed and worried. "Hey, hey, I'm sorry. Please don't cry, okay?"

You laugh and his expression eases, shoulders falling and fingertips thumbing softly at your skin. "Don't worry, Ei. I'm happy," you sniffle, fingers wrapping 'round his wrists; his pulse stutters at your index and you smile, "I liked you too, a lot," at age six, at eighteen, the year before last, and the year after that, and, and, "I still like you, I think."

His smile blooms, face brightens like sunlight in the peak of summer, warm against the tips of your fingers.

"Can I take you on a date sometime?" he asks, like it's the easiest thing in the world; maybe it always has been.

"Yeah." Your heart beats, a page turns. "I'd like that."

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Prompt:

Pairing: Mafia! Octavinelle and MC/Yuu/ Reader

Genre: Hurt/ Comfort ig? Slight crack

TW: Kidnapping, blood, minor character deaths, mc does get a little hurt, mentions of guns, usage of guns, violence (because mafia au), mc also curses at one point, talk of killing people, the prefect wears earrings and has hair (i saw someone use put this in warnings once). Let me know if I should add anything else!

AN: First request for TWST ^^ It's my first time writing for the Octavinelle trio, so please forgive me if they're ooc, I tried my best. This was very fun to work on! Send me asks if you wanna know more about my version of mafia!twst because I had so many thoughts about this entire au but I couldn't fit everything in one post lol. Not really happy with the ending (when am I ever) but I hope you enjoy!

"I'm telling you, you don't wanna do this," You warned your captors for the third time as they checked the cuffs holding you up by your arms. It was an uncomfortable position, kneeling with your arms restrained with metal chains above your head. Your shoulders felt sore, and with how every movement made the skin of your wrists rub against the harsh metal, you just knew that you were going to be sporting some pretty nasty bruises around them.

Vil was going to be furious about that.

You watched as the leader came into your range of vision, a self-satisfied smirk painting his face as he walked over to you. There was quite some distance for him to cross to reach you, and he took his sweet time as he leisurely walked over to you. Probably an intimidation tactic, just like how making you kneel was.

You looked at him, unperturbed. Your eyes roamed over the man, who for all his intimidation tactics, was nothing but a poor little boy way in over his head. A reckless little minnow who didn't know his place, as Floyd would say.

Speaking of Floyd. You grimaced at the monstrosity of an outfit the man was wearing. In all your time as a valued member of the mafia, you had seen many outlandish outfits, courtsey of the more openly unhinged Leech twin and the field of work you were in (power had a way of killing the fashion sense of people and letting it rot inside their head). But this... was on a whole another level.

You mentally lit a candle for everyone who had to witness the... very unique display.

A sharp slap snapped you out of your thoughts. 'Did this man, just backhand me? Well fuck you too bitch', You thought to yourself as you looked back at the still smirking man. You could feel a bit of wetness at the edge of your lip, a slight stinging also being felt at the same spot. Your tongue darted out, recognizing the metallic taste of blood as you gingerly licked at the small wound.

"So this is the little Prefect of Night Raven, hm? How... pathetic. Truly, the mafia organization has fallen if they allow the likes of you to hold any position higher than a discardable pawn," he huffed, and you resisted rolling your eyes. Here comes the villainous monologue, you thought to yourself.

As the man spoke, you took note of the people in the room. Apart from you and the man, there were five other men, all very familiar faces. All of them were earlier members of NRC, who left the organization 'honorably' before your appointment as the consigliere to Dire Crowley, the main boss.

There was nothing honorable about the way they were treating you right now though.

Very reluctantly, you listened to the man's speech about how he was basically aiming to cripple Night Raven Mafia by killing you. You forced back a yawn through the speech that was supposed to strike fear into your heart; unfortunately for him, you dealt with seven very unpredictable and occasionally difficult underbosses on a daily basis. Said underbosses must have already been informed of your forced absence.

Now it was just a matter of waiting and watching to see exactly who would come to your rescue...

The door slammed open as soon as you thought that, and the eyes of every person in the room turned to it. You smiled as a very familiar face entered the room, his mismatched eyes dark and foreboding.

"Hi Floyd," you chirped, unfazed by the frown on his face and the dangerous aura around him. Floyd's eyes met yours for a moment, brightening at seeing you, before turning even harsher when he saw the state you were in; clothes (gifted to you by Riddle) rumpled, carefully styled hair (courtesy of Vil) in a disarray, and a slight swelling on the side of your face you were struck at (which would send nearly everyone into a murderous frenzy).

"Who touched my Shrimpy?" Floyd growled out at the men. "Don'tcha know that I'm the only one allowed to rough them up? You're just begging to be squeezed to death."

At this point, the men, who were earlier frozen in fear, started to fumble with their guns. Before they could even get their weapons out, gunshots rang throughout the room, each man dropping to the floor one by one.

"Ah, pardon me, but I would prefer if you did not aim your weapons at my brother," a familiar voice spoke from behind Floyd to the now dead men in the room.

You grimaced at the blood now flowing out and seeping onto the floor, the puddle growing in size and inching closer to you.

"Jade, get me out of these things," you said, successfully getting his attention as you rattled the chains holding you up.

"Ah, of course dear Prefect," Jade hummed, and you did not need to look at his face to know that he was smiling. Jade walked over to you, stopping only to take the keys to your chains from the pocket of the leader. Placing the key into the lock and turning it released you from your uncomfortable position, and you yelped as you flopped onto the ground unceremoniously.

"Shrimpy~" Floyd's rapid changes in mood was one thing you did not believe you would ever get used to, "did you really get kidnapped by this sad little bunch of minnows?" He asked, pulling you to your feet and slightly spinning you.

"Shrimpy is so helpless~"

"Indeed," Jade smiled, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. You would never get used to the all too malicious upturn of Jade's lips either. He took you from Floyd's arms, ignoring his twin's grumbling as he dusted off your clothes. "Pray tell, how could such... insignificant little men capture you, dear Prefect?"

Before you could answer, a third voice rang through the room. "Jade! Floyd! I told you not to kill any of them!" Azul huffed as he entered your line of vision, glaring at the two men who sandwiched you.

"Ah, pardon me Azul, but they were going to aim their weapons at Floyd. Not to mention how terribly they were treating the Prefect," Jade hummed, not at all repentant of his actions. Azul huffed in frustration, glaring at his consigliere.

You gave him a little wave, and Azul's eyes softened as they met yours. He looked calm and collected as he walked over to you, but the trembling of his hands as he held yours gave his true feelings away. His eyes quickly scanned your body for wounds, narrowing in displeasure at the reddened skin around your wrists and the cut on the corner of your lip.

"Prefect."

"Azul," you said, not missing the way his eyes relaxed considerably as he saw you wearing the seashell earrings he had gifted you. "Ah, so that was how Idia-san found out you were kidnapped almost immediately," he hummed. You raised an eyebrow at his words.

"The earrings have trackers in them," Jade helpfully explained.

"Well, in any case, we must take you back to the Lounge. Everyone else must have assembled there by now."

"Huh? Why?"

"Because, Prefect, we were supposed to bring your kidnappers so that a joint decision could be taken for their punishment," Azul sighed as he pushed his glasses up his nose slightly.

You glanced at your kidnappers, wrinkling your nose as the blood puddle slowly crept closer to your shoes. "They're dead."

"A most unfortunate incident, yes. But, nevertheless, their identities will suffice for now. This just goes to show that we must never leave any loose ties," Azul said ominously. "Perhaps my dear colleagues will learn a lesson from this."

"... Sure. And how did you three manage to make them stay back at the Lounge while you carried out this rescue mission?"

"The heads found it best to send us three since we were most likely to bring your captors back alive," Azul said, glaring at Floyd who just roamed around the room disinterested in the conversation. "Well, that is what Crewel and Trein thought, at least."

You chuckled. "I don't think the outcome would've been any different with the others either so... let's just get to the Lounge."

Azul smiled. "As you wish, Prefect."

[hadesisqueer]

Honestly I have never fully agreed with the whole "Korra has the personality of a Firebender" because-- what exactly is the personality of a Firebender? She used Firebending a lot in the first books, I'll give you that, but it seemed more out of accessibility than anything; later she switches it for Air.

Fire is the element of power; Firebenders tend to be pretty determined people. Water is the element of change; Waterbenders tend to be very adaptable. Earth is the element of substance; Earthbenders usually are very resilient people. And Air is the element of freedom; Airbenders tend to be very free-spirited. There are stereotypes for benders (Firebenders are angry people and obsessed with honor, Earthbenders are usually pretty stubborn) that can be true with some people. But not always.

Now, here, look. These two are Airbenders.

Do they have the same personality?

Now, these two.

They're Earthbenders. Do they have the same personality?

What about these two Waterbenders?

Are they any similar?

Or maybe these two Firebender brothers?

What is the personality of a Firebender? Iroh's personality? Zuko's? Azula's, or Ozai's? Or Mako's?

Yes, Korra had affinity with firebending due to a couple of her personality traits that made her a very determined and fierce person. She also had an affinity with earthbending from a young age as well because she was a tough, stubborn and resilient person who stood her ground. However, she was also a very adaptable person who favored change, which is the main personality trait of what a Waterbender should be.

Personality traits aren't exclusive of one element. Kya is more spiritual and free-spirited than Tenzin and she's not an Airbender, but a Waterbender; stereotypically, Tenzin is kinda different than you'd expect an Airbender to be, actually, with him being more disciplined and serious. Bolin does not have the stereotypical Earthbender personality, either. And Mako doesn't have the stereotypical Firebender 'impulsive' personality either, he's more a 'cool under fire' person who usually stays level-headed in tough situations. Korra lacked spirituality and prefered to stand her ground or fight at first rather than avoiding conflict, which is why she had trouble with Airbending at first. But again, personality traits aren't exclusive of just one element nor does the element you bend really define and shape your personality; the way you are brought up, your environment and the people around you contribute more to that. Korra originally didn't have those traits due to the way she was raised, isolated from the world, groomed and pressured from a young age as the Avatar. Raise her differently, with a more normal, carefree childhood, and perhaps she wouldn't have struggled as much with airbending as she originally did.

In my opinion, the reason why people might think Korra has a full on 'Firebender personality' is because she has some common traits with a particular Firebender. The Firebender being Zuko. Both were originally hot headed, got angry easily at first, were fierce and impulsive. Korra also shared personality traits with Toph, too, being tough and stubborn —they were raised being isolated with no friends, too, which is a parallel between them. But like I said, personality traits can help with an element, but aren't exclusive of that element. Korra also had several things in common with Aang.

Personally, in my opinion, someone Korra has a lot in common with as well, maybe more than with Zuko or Toph-- is Katara, another Waterbender. They both are driven people with a lot of determination, righteous and passionate about what they believe in, and pretty adaptable as well. Korra seems to be more aggressive, and impulsive as well, but let's not act like Katara didn't have a temper, too, and like she wasn't impulsive and reckless as well sometimes (remember when she blew up a FN factory because Sokka said it without thinking of the consequences). They both could get very frustrated as well when they weren't immediately good at something they expected to be good at. There are many differences between them, yeah, due to the ways they were brought up —again, Korra was isolated from the world with no friends her age and pressured to be the Avatar and Katara was forced on a motherly role from a very young age after the loss of her actual mother. However, if they had been raised in more normal ways, I fully believe they'd be even more similar. Put Katara as the Avatar from a young age like Korra herself was and I think she could have been a very similar Avatar to Korra imo. But it also makes sense in some way they're similar considering Katara was Korra's waterbending master and likely one of her biggest role models growing up.

(Free my girls they both get so overhated for no reason too).

Anyway, to me there is really no such actual thing as having 'the personality of X bender', they're mostly stereotypes. There are personality traits that can be helpful to bend an element, but they're never exclusive to that element. Just because you're stubborn as hell doesn't mean you're an Earthbender, and Bolin himself doesn't really exhibit that trait. Just because you're a very fierce person, doesn't mean you're an Firebender. You can be a pretty spiritual person and not an Airbender. You can be a very adaptable guy, but a Firebender instead of a Waterbender. Aang was far from having the slightest stereotypical Firebender personality and he didn't struggle with firebending, but he had the determination needed to be a Firebender. He also had the same adaptability needed to be a Waterbender. Korra had some personality traits that made her have it easy with firebending. She also had personality traits that made it easy for her to waterbend and earthbend. Easy.

[demaparbat-hp]

Hi there. ^_^ ♥ First, LOVE your art!♥

2nd, for your Katara joins Zuko in hunting the Avatar AU idea, I have a question. :)

If originally Zuko was hunting him to restore his honor, but now he's part of the White Lotus, does this make the White lotus evil? (The kind that think they're doing it for good, but they're delusional, because their idea is clearly bad.)

Or, if they're not evil, what is Zuko's new reason for hunting the Avatar, if not for his honor? :)

Hello, and thank you for the question!

I hope you don't mind me making this a sort-of continuation to this post, but the replies are connected, in a way.

Now, it may come as no surprise that I love to play with canon divergences. So it stands to reason that one minor change to canon became the basis for Zuko's character in this AU. Mainly, that he stayed behind with Azula to eavesdrop the rest of Ozai's audience with Fire Lord Azulon, and thus was witness to the latter demanding his death in exchange for Ozai's right to the throne.

Zuko, unable to sleep that night, is wide awake when Ursa comes to see him. He delays her, deeply afraid of what's happening, and follows her silently through the dark halls of the palace when she leaves. But Ozai intercepts her. Ozai kills her, and Zuko watches.

It changes everything and nothing at all at the same time. Zuko's desire to be the Perfect Prince isn't because he wishes for his father's attention and love—instead, it comes from a place of grief. Zuko's is a simmering rage that drives him to one day take the throne (the very same throne that turned his mother to ashes and gave her no ceremony) from Ozai in revenge. But to do so he first needs to be ready for it.

Zuko learns to listen. Slithering through the shadows of the palace and pushing himself beyond his limits. But the Agni Kai happens. And when everything is lost, Zuko turns his misfortune into an advantage.

Uncle had started to introduce him to the White Lotus before his banishment, so Zuko becomes a member after he's fully healed. He makes the best out of what little he has—a crew full of agents, traitors and dissidents, and a position and name in the Fire Nation military that, while precarious in nature of his banishment, still allows him certain sway from within.

Time passes, and he grows. He goes to missions for the White Lotus, puts a stop to several plans for minor invasions and battles (nothing major, as to not cause suspicion) and works hard and subtle to better things wherever he goes.

He makes plans. Reckless, half-impossible plans to depose of his father. But they are useless and, most often than not, bloody.

The conditions of his banishment are clear. He is stripped of all titles and rights as Prince and can never set foot on the Mainland ever again. He's no longer the Crown Prince to the Fire Nation and has, by the Divine Law of Agni, no right to the throne. That is, of course, unless he does the impossible, captures the long-missing Avatar, and brings them to the Fire Lord. And that, for obvious reasons, is not an option. It hasn't been an option for the last one hundred years.

Until it is.

Capturing the Avatar is not something Zuko does to regain his honor or earn his father's respect (the first, because he had never lost it; the second, because he's never had it in the first place). It is a necessity. Something he must do if he wants to reclaim his title as Crown Prince, take the throne from his father and end the war once and for all.

But, let me tell you a secret. This AU? It was born because I woke up one day with a single phrase repeating itself in my head, over and over again:

The Prince refused to play Pai Sho, not because he was bad at it but, rather, out of boredom—he never lost a single game.

And that's just it. It's a game.

He can't take an untrained, childish fifteen year old Avatar to his father. But he can give the kid enough time to get ready. Chase him around, play the Bad Guy, push him away from the real dangers out there. Oh, he will deliver the Avatar to the Fire Lord—he just needs to keep his cover as loyal prince long enough for the boy to play his part and become a fully realized Master.

The Gambit is dangerous and double-edged, but all of Zuko's moves on the board are part of the same strategy. This, after all, is just another game of Pai Sho.

And he never loses.

[syndrossi]

Imagine au where in the Resonant universe Daemon is transported back 8 years when the twins are about to be born. What will he do? (Other than negotiate to conceal their origins). It's clear that at first he'll be into it out of sheer happiness and won't move away from them. Will he stay in Runestone or move to the capital? Will he go to war again, know how long it will take? Will he still seek Viserys' attention or will he pull away from him and focus entirely on his sons? What will he do about the future threat of Volantis? What names would he give them?

That's an interesting twist. I've considered the "AU where Rhea tells Daemon about the twins," but one where he has foreknowledge of the threat Volantis poses to them in the future (and how to avoid getting banished) hadn't occurred to me.

Rhea would have a lot more bargaining power here if Daemon wants her to claim them as her own, so she probably negotiates them being at least part-time at Runestone, and honestly, he probably feels safer with that arrangement. Rhea has the coin/resources for round-the-clock knight protection if he discloses that word of a threat from Essos/Volantis had reached him through "sources," while lacking Viserys's authority to take them away from him. He goes with them everywhere, so he'll be at Runestone when they're there.

The question arises of how to find their hatchlings' eggs. I think the ultimate action Daemon would try to take is to secure the Master of Whisperers position on the small council so he can build up contacts/spies throughout Essos but particularly Volantis.

He absolutely hunts down Crayne and kills him. Doesn't care that the man hasn't done anything yet--that's the only thing that earns him a clean death here.

Hostile AS FUCK to Allard, who has no idea why Rhea's husband hates him so much.

Names are interesting. I think he'd keep Rhaegar as Rhaegar even if he'd like the symmetry of naming them both after his father and uncle, to honor his son's original choice. He'd choose Baelon for Jon because fair's fair, he never chose a Targaryen name for himself!

Daemon would want the boys to have their due as princes of the realm, and he loves to show off his babies, so he would absolutely have a formal presentation at court for them. I could see Viserys being so delighted at the birth of twins that he's tempted to throw a tourney (while Otto's like...your own wife is currently pregnant, where's the tourney for THAT upcoming child??).

The Runestone dragon enclosure gets a LOT more use. If it's early enough, Daemon retreats with Rhea and Elys to the Royce's summer retreat (even though it's winter), super excited/anxious about the birth. I think those months might be what shift Rhea's opinion of Daemon, and certainly his behavior toward the twins after! Daemon's sudden maturity vs before as a whole probably comes as a shock to her.

The matter of the Stepstones is a thorny one, because it does need to be dealt with. Perhaps he convinces Rhaenys to join the effort, in the hopes of ending it sooner with double dragons. (He also has some plans in the current time for ending the war quickly that he could implement here, with Viserys's support, which he would be much more motivated to obtain.) Achieving a quick, decisive victory and getting the accolades of presenting the crown to Viserys without his reckless escapade with Rhaenyra, since this would be two years earlier and he knows better now, would be a nice boost to his cred with Viserys.

Ultimately, I think he's a bit wary of Viserys's interest, but since Viserys knows nothing about any special qualities, over time Daemon relaxes because his brother is behaving more like the doting uncle he'd expected him to be.

Other than that, Daemon treasures every day and memory with them. It's hard for him at first to overcome his resentment of Rhea for hiding them from him originally, but I think the icy tolerance mellows into a friendly partnership eventually. As I mentioned above, Daemon wins a lot of points with Rhea for being so fully devoted to the babies.

(The twins wake up earlier here, since I couldn't bear to "take" Daemon's sons from him when they're seven, which means the Volantis shenanigans get moved up in response, since whoever brought them here would know they've arrived. On the bright side, it means the hatchling eggs are on the way! On the not so bright side, that means baby/toddler kidnapping schemes are as well!)

[rwac96]

What happens when Spider-Arc meets Glynda when chasing Roman? How does that first meeting go?

"Oh, this is brilliant," Roman Torchwick said with sarcasm, firing at the pursuing vigilante with his cane. "Get this freak off our tail!" He hollered to his men, who charged towards the costumed figure.

Spider-Man ducks and dodges the gunfire from those armed, shooting webbing at their guns and jamming them. Shooting a web-line, Spidey performs a kick swing on one of them, hurling him onto his colleagues. As the yellow & black hero continued to fight Torchwick's goons, he noticed a violet glow, levitating those not engaged in combat. His Spider-Sense goes off, realizing that it is a Hunter.

"We got a Huntress!" Roman warned the pilot of his get-a-way copter, a grey-haired youth Mercury around the young hero's age. "Step on it!"

"You're not my dad," the pilot said with attitude, beginning to steer the flying vehicle from the two as Spider-Man apprehends the henchmen that were left behind.

"Thanks for the assist," Spider-Man said, then found himself being lifted from the ground. "H-Hey!"

"As honorable as your intentions are," Glynda Goodwitch said, pointing her riding crop at the masked hero, "your reckless vigilantism helps no one!"

"Oh, c'mon!" Spidey groaned, "I stopped them from robbing that Dust Shop! Besides, they're webbed up!"

"I'm sure you'll explain yourself thoroughly with the police and Ozpin," Glynda says, bringing the hero closer to her.

"Well, sorry for this in advance," like drawing a gun from a classic Western movie, Spidey shoots a web-ball at Glynda, to splatter onto her eyes.

This caused Glynda to lose concentration, causing her to drop the yellow & black garbed hero. He made a mad dash for the edge of the roof and hopped off, shooting a web-line and fleeing the scene. He mentally kicked himself, and now has likely made himself a target for Vale's Hunters.

'Good going, Jaune,' the masked blonde thought to himself, 'you've really mucked up any goodwill you had with any Hunters.'

[wisteriaiswriting]

Sombra and Ashe with a male reader who's the textbook definition of thug and smoke demon, bro don't fight with NO WEAPONS, NO CYBERNETICS, bro just fights with straight hands even when up against OR15 units and ends up turning 'em from a shiny useless bucket of bolts (excpet Orisa of course) to just straight up trashy buckets of bolts, not to mention bro's famous catchphrase whenever someone tries to convince him to not throw the hands with someone: "And who gon' stop me?", this man don't care who you are, if you Doomfist you still catchin' the smoke, if you Mauga you catchin' the smoke, if you're Winston in primal rage mode YOU STILL CATCHIN' THE SMOKE, but bro as a thug still got his honor and always keeps his promises as well as never hits an opponent when they're down.

𝕐𝕠𝕦'𝕣𝕖 𝕤𝕦𝕔𝕙 𝕒 𝕋𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕘𝕦𝕪, 𝕙𝕦𝕙?

Words: 582

I wasn't able to add everything as these are in headcanons form, if you want any specific added please send through another ask for them. :)

Now her first thought in battle when seeing you is to be a distraction, (aware she does that anyways.) so while they focus on her you can take them down with ease.

“My knight in shining armour!” “I’m not in armour?”  “Ay, Cabeza de chorlito, let me have this!”

↑ That's from her purposely putting herself in danger, just so you would have to save her. Willing to ruin the whole mission just to see you put some overwatch agents in their place.

On the intercoms there are very few times it’s used. Sombra makes up 90% of that, it’s just cheering you on. Watching from every angle to inform everyone of what's happening, how you beat the person.

If it’s possible she will beg you (most times she doesn’t even ask.) to let her ride on your back or in your arms. Either around the base or even into battles.

Everyone is aware she could easily just teleport around and snatch the much needed items. But from now on she will have you run through everyone, following the path of knocked out people and omnics, to finally gather the item. (All too see your muscles and strength.)

Will either find someone (willingly or not) to rebuild some omnics built closer to your strength. (Of course it doesn’t stand close to you.) In battle she will hack any opponent, wanting to see you fight as many people as possible. 

You don’t even need to ask for her to do the following: Track down anyone you’d like for any reason, (likely to fight) she doesn’t care if they are an enemy or ally of Talon. If you want someone or something found you’ll have it.

“Come here guapo~”

Her affection rate will double. At any possible chance she will be on you, hanging onto your back, in your arms, sitting in your lap during meetings. Almost nothing is stopping this girl from getting your attention.

Even if it’s not her favourite task she’ll deal with it for you. Any injuries gained from your reckless fighting she will try to help, (Has started buying custom bandages for you.) doting on any visible injuries

In short she is one of the many people that will enable your behaviour and activity, and will not shut you down.

***

Cabeza de chorlito - Knucklehead

guapo - handsome

It’s not often (never) that Ashe will ever risk herself as a distraction. Even if she knows you’ll save her, she can’t help but make a comment. “Need to work on your timing there pumpkin.”

If you allow her to ride on your back into battle, she does this with B.O.B every once in a while, but with you around? Almost all of the damn time.

You can run around but never out of her sight. But if you ever do she’s sending B.O.B after you to either catch and bring you back or to keep you company.

Speaking of, you aren’t going very far alone. If she can’t go you ain’t leaving without B.O.B nearby.

“Don’t you dare go running off now.” “And who gon’ stop me?” “Fine by me then, don’t come back crying when you lose an arm.”

If you do return injured she is the only one to care for you, (B.O.B) is sometimes an exception.

While she does respect omnics, closely the ones she works with. Even she knows that enemies are enemies, so while you’re out and about, bring her some scraps to upgrade her weapons and even B.O.B and other omnic members.

[authorchia]

HOLY MOLY-

THAT'S ALMOST A HUNDRED ENGAGEMENTS. I'VE NEVER HIT THIS MILESTONE IN A SINGLE POST ALONE AND IT JUST BEEN TWO DAYS I- *happy yippee noises*

OKAY since people are interested in the TACS/Circus Suitcase AU, I've come prepared with a special doodle! Aren't you just dying to know? You can also ask about it y'know... Ohohohoho~

Oh? What's this? It's just the crew greeting each other- WAIT! They're speaking in other languages?! Sweet crackers, how fun!

Do you remember that Caine travels far and wide? Well, he is, quite literally, Mr. Worldwide! What better way to make your circus known around the world than recruiting diverse souls! It's tough but it's honest work! (Thanks Reverse: 1999 🙏)

Some interesting notes about the doodles:

- Both Caine and Kinger are ✨🍵BRITISH🍵✨ but Kinger speaks in Old English/Shakespeare style. The reason? They won't tell :3c (They're genuine bromies, your honor)

- Caine doesn't really like Jax's behavior, as the rabbit is very casual... Too casual for him. But he still tolerates him unless Jax is being reckless/plain mean.

- Except with Zooble, they're casual but still have manners. Caine is okay with them 👍

- Caine calling Ragatha "Milady" is a form of respect!

- It didn't translate well, but Gangle's mask will have inspiration from Kabuki masks!

- Caine actually haven't greet Pomni here CUZ HE'S A PUSSY so he ended up daydreaming what her usual greetings sounds smh

- Their roles and flower details will be discussed sooner or later! Please give me time!

That's all for now! Make sure to look for more updates~

[illarian-rambling]

can we get i an oc tour pretty please?

Sure!

Up first, we've got Izjik Meautammera, from Honor's Outcasts

(I'm so serious when I say these memes are the best refs I have)

She's 26 and a halawemavar selkie, which is just a selkie with catfish seasoning. Out of the four Outcasts, she's somehow both the most responsible and the most reckless. Her sense for emotion is keen, so she does her best to help everyone work through their pain, even when someone else might not notice they're upset. However, she's also the most likely to wrestle a greased elephant seal for a free beer. Let's call her the dad friend. She has a connection to a mysterious entity known as End as well, though she doesn't know much about it and would like to keep it that way. All she knows is that it gives her the ability to kill what shouldn't be able to die. Because of this ability, she was imprisoned in an undersea oubliette for eight years, alongside the man who would become her closest friend.

A man who's name is Sepo Kaiacynthus!

Sepo is a siren, though he can assume a human-like form as Izjik can. He was a priest to the god of song and drowned sailors until he burnt down the siren empress's palace and killed her daughter as revenge for the unfair execution of his brother. As punishment for this, his tongue was cut out (negating his vocal magic) and he was tossed into prison, where he met Izjik. Personality-wise, Sepo is prickly, easily aggravated, and generally grumpy. He loves to argue, even if he'd never admit it, and has a nobleman's sense of refinement tempered with a healthy dose of having lived in a pit for eight years. Together with Izjik, he took in a runaway sorcerer girl, by the name of...

Twenari Undetasib!

The daughter of the most successful smuggler on the Janazi sea, Twenari was raised as a tool more than a child due to her prodigious sorcery. When she finally broke under the strain, she ran away, pursued by her mother’s agents. She's a genius and not only a naturally talented sorcerer, but an ambitious one as well. She seeks to understand magic in all its facets, down to the most minute level. This can lead her down some dangerous paths, as she cares more about learning than her own wellbeing. Other than that though, she's a perfectly sensible and pragmatic girl (probably more so than the adult Outcasts). She can be rather awkward in social situations, as she's used to being a business asset, not a twelve-year-old. However, thankfully, she's not the face of the crew.

That distinction would go to one Djek Kagura

Djek is a 19 year old human who grew up on the streets of Fayuki after his parents abandoned him during a famine in an effort to save their six other children. This has left him with some pretty severe people pleasing problems, as he's terrified of being abandoned again. When he was fifteen, he fell in with the Tunnel Wasps (Twenari’s mother's smuggling operation), and was taken under the wing of a woman named Tyche, who forced him to commit many unsavory acts, including trying to recapture their boss's runaway daughter. Djek has a class clown sort of vibe. He's always trying to get a laugh, even if it's only as a distraction while he picks your pocket. Deep down though, he has a sensitive heart and longs for meaningful connections. He, like Twenari, is a sorcerer, though his magic is pretty measly compared to the average, and laughable compared to Twenari’s.

And that's the Outcasts quartet! They're a cute found family whose favorite hobbies include religious terrorism and uncovering maddening eldritch truths. The other group (just the MG crew, no catchy name) exists 20 years down the road from the adventures of the Outcasts, and though not directly connected, have a few similar encounters. Without further ado, here they are!

Up first is Astra DuClaire, the best witch of the borderlands

Or, at least, she says she's the best. Astra is a self-taught rune mage (hence the title witch, not mage, since she has no license) from humble beginnings. She seeks to pay off her mothers' debtor contracts, thereby releasing them from service in debtor's prison. Her personality might best be described as forceful. Astra is a loudmouthed braggart with an opinion on everything and a chip on her shoulder the size of a mountain. She believes deep down that she'll never be a truly good mage with her subpar education, so she covers this up with arrogance. Her story starts when she discovers a mysterious robot broken on the side of the road and decides to fix him up.

Said robot goes by the name of Mashal (surname Darezsho, but he doesn't know that at first)

Mashal doesn't remember anything before waking up in Astra's wagon. All he knows is his name, that he's lost, and that anything having to do with magic fills him with terrified paranoia and an urge towards violence. He seeks to discover what happened to him and who he is. Astra decides to aid him in this, and the two of them develop a friendship and later a romance on this quest. Mashal himself is rather soft-spoken, with a gentle heart that struggles to make sense of his violent instincts around magic. He has a talent for art and swordsmanship, and though his timidness can come across as weak, anyone who pushes him finds his morals are iron hard.

The third piece of this puzzle is Detevtive Ivander Montane

Born to a wealthy banking family, Ivander was always intended to follow along into the family business. When he was sixteen, he learned the truth of his family's dominance over the city of Unity's finances; the Montanes had made a deal with the god of greed. The contract Ivander signed with this god gave him the ability to call on miracles in exchange for his service. Only, when he couldn't bear hawking payday loans and convincing desperate fathers to sell their children as factory indentures any longer, he ran away. This default on his divine contract caused a curse to befall him. Slowly, Ivander's flesh is being eaten away and turned into smoke. This leaves him in terrible pain, though he covers his disfigurement with an illusion. Now 30 years old and disillusioned, Ivander works for the Unity Bureau of Arcane Investigation. His last hope to not die and be condemned to hell lays in mysterious killer known to strip the magic from their victims. Despite the horrors he's endured, there's still some good deep down in Ivander's heart. He's an incorrigible gossip, a selfish fop, and avoids emotional intimacy like the plague, however, he still loosely holds his childhood dream of helping people.

The next two characters are introduced in book 2. Sadly, I don't have funny little portraits for them yet.

First up is Elsind Cavernsight!

Elsind is a 20 year old changeling working for the Salis Legion of the People (a Skysheerian revolutionary group) as an infiltrator and spy. In Skysheer, changelings are frequently exploited, and like many of her kind, Elsind was kidnapped from a life with her loving elven mother at 13 to be used as a marquis's court freak. When they were 18, an SLP cell robbed the mansion they were kept in, and Elsind took a chance and escaped with them. Since then, he's been a loyal soldier fighting for his nation's freedom from tyranny. You might expect such a figure to be tough and jaded, but Elsind is nothing of the sort. They're a chatterbox, cry when nervous, and can't help but empathize with nearly everyone. They also have a deep appreciation for cheap romance novels.

On the other side of the coin, we have Duchon Avymere Kalaphon Spearsong III

Avymere is the Duchon of Salis (gender neutral form of Duke/Duchess), only child of the Archduke Eluan Spearsong. They are 153 years old and have been expertly manipulating the Salis gentry for nearly all of that time. To the court, they are a kindhearted, if ditzy, noble, who seems content to spend the rest of their days making social calls and practicing their odd martial arts hobby. In private, however, Avymere is a peerless spy who uses their unassuming persona to gather information for their father, to whom they are faultlessly loyal. They view themself as a servant of their people - more a tool than a person with wants and dreams. Despite their good intentions though, there is a disconnect between Avymere and the reality of Skysheer. They would consider easing tariffs to be a generous act, when in truth, most Skysheerians couldn't care less about foreign goods, and are more concerned with not starving or freezing to death.

And that's all the main characters! This turned out to be longer than I expected, but please let me know if you have any questions or comments. I also have their full bios (not Avymere or Elsind though, still gotta get on that) linked in my intro post, if you'd like a more in-depth look at anyone. Thanks for the ask, and you have yourself a bitchin day!

[pstelwitchcraft]

I love Laudna and Ashton so much.

Laudna dropping their backstory last ep and Ash getting kinda pissed and going "yeah it was awful, like really traumatic and shit. Thank you for reminding me of that" and Laudna pretty much ignoring them in both an effort to divert from her and her girlfriend but also to get them to FINALLY maybe deal with their shit is so..... they're siblings your honor. They're besties. They annoy each other for the other's own good. They have heavy, profound conversations while getting drunk in random taverns. They get each other so much and also not AT ALL and it somehow works because there is so much reckless care there it could power a city. I am OBSESSED with them.