#Set post canon

[th30ra3k3n]

y’all gotta read this fic by @vivitalks

easily one of the best fics i’ve read recently

shake your thunder under my skin

it’s beautiful and i loved it and you will too

[bennydwight]

A dialogue snippet that turned into this:

Standoff (TGAMM Oneshot: Spoilers for season 2)

Summary: Half-feral, trapped in a snare barely big enough for his fluctuating form and Oliver Chen's gun trained directly at his head, Scratch is out of options.

So why isn't Ollie taking the shot?

Intrinsically, Scratch was a pretty simple, lazy guy. He liked an easy routine, a familiar path. The hardest work he did most days was figuring out how to avoid hard work. He didn’t have the patience for strategy (why, when cheating was faster and easier?) and trying to think in multiple directions at once just sapped his strength and made his head hurt. All that variety, all that junk humans did to ‘better their mind’ was just so hard.

Astonishingly, it was made ten times harder when he was near bursting out of a containment unit, a wide barreled gun trained directly between his eyes.

He couldn’t even pinpoint where everything had gone wrong, too much focus funneled into clamping down on a base instinct: trapped in a snare barely large enough for his normal size and his afterlife on the line, Scratch’s scare form had started to take over.

He strained against the effort of keeping his ectoplasm intact, phantom breaths coming in rapid huffs even as his teeth lengthened, spines burst from his arms, his shape swelled and pressed dangerously against unyielding steel and electrons. Somewhere, quietly in the back of his mind and underneath the screaming need to SCARE SCARE SCARE SCARE, he realized dimly that he’d never been afraid of being crushed until now, after he’d gained the ability to phase through objects at will. Well, most objects. Go figure.

So it was here, desperately trying to reign in his higher processes, that through an animalistic red haze Scratch glowered into the eyes of his captor. Ollie stood mere feet away, that biohazard-yellow gun a shield between him and his helpless prey, and Scratch acknowledged a terrible gleam of satisfaction as even now the weapon trembled in the boy’s hands.

Across the other side of the warehouse, behind the orangey shimmer of the Chens’s forcefield, Molly lay prone, the tiny movement of her breaths the only reason any of the Ghost Chasers were still alive. Esther knelt next to her, first-aid kit in hand, expression one of barely-contained terror. Not his doing, but he’d take credit. Maybe next time she’d learn not to chuck a knockout bomb at a child. Well, at him. Molly had taken the metaphorical bullet (not a pretty mental image, given the circumstances), and if anything happened to her then Scratch was going to make all their lives a living hell.

Provided he got out unscathed. Somewhere, out of the thick of battle, Andrea fought to take the snare’s electronics offline, and no doubt June was blocking every attack with equal fervor. And even with legs as long as Libby’s, it would take too much time for her to reach the McGee’s house and bring back Pete and Sharon. Time Scratch didn’t have.

Imprisoned, half feral with the urge to survive, and one finger twitch away from total erasure, Scratch was out of options. Just him and Ollie, and the trap and the gun.

And the father.

Ruben stood, face and hands pressed against the forcefield, vibrating with adrenaline. His attention laser focused to his son, caught on the opposite side with the enemy (that was Scratch, he had enemies now), the shouts of excitement and encouragement died at Ollie’s hesitation and veered distinctly into confusion and urgency.

“Finish it, Ollie, it’s trying to take attack form! End it before it escapes!”

Ollie’s only acknowledgement was the hitch of his shoulders, eyes locked with Scratch in a way that felt like he was missing context. Scratch had seen this boy’s hatred firsthand, he put things on the internet that should not be there, so what stopped him now?

A memory flashed to mind: Molly throwing herself in front of the knockout bomb, and someone shouting ‘NO’ nearby, and Scratch swelled painfully against the snare as a fresh wave of rage tore through his ectoplasm like the hiss from behind his fangs.

Ah. So now he knew.

“We’re so close, Ollie,” Ruben continued to not shut up, voice like fingernails down Scratch’s strained self-control. “Our family’s whole legacy has led up to this! You can give us everything we’ve ever dreamed, just pull the trigger!”

The monster was caged, and still fear shone like a beacon behind Ollie’s eyes. Everything they’d worked for at his feet and he still didn’t move. Didn’t look away.

Scratch was not a smart man on the best of days and now, claws scoring uneven grooves in the ground as their length oscillated with his concentration, he was grossly, hilariously far from his best. “Do it kid,” Scratch snarled, sucking harsh breaths from between gritted teeth. “You know what it’ll cost ya.”

“Do it, Ollie! This is our only chance!”

A long beat passed.

Ollie’s hands shook, but his trigger finger didn’t waver.

From outside, a roar, and then a scream. Good old Geoff. The Chens’s heads whipped towards the door, and their combined fear-smell nearly whited out Scratch’s mind for good.

“Go help June!” Ollie’s voice pitched high with terror, and something else that tugged Scratch’s mind back to clarity. Surprise registered through the darkness clouding his mind as his parents obeyed, gathering a limp Molly into their arms, and a strange quiet settled over the warehouse.

And then, there were two.

Most of the threat and the fear-smell were gone, but Ollie still had a gun to his head and Scratch was still angry. His hue shifted, deepening to a sickly green, mouth stretching wide in a grotesque grin. “So what’ll it be, Ollie? Gonna finish me yourself? Or gonna make your daddy do it for you?” The snare creaked ominously as his growth strained the limits. The ropes of plasma burned fierce red lines through the green, but he barely registered the pain. “Either way, she’ll never talk to you again. Won’t even look at you. She thought better of you, y’know. Tried her darnedest to change your mind. You want her to wake up and find out she failed?”

Ollie’s eyes hardened, and Scratch’s temperature dropped several degrees. He really should’ve known better by now than to make calculated risks, this one might’ve just cost him his life.

Ollie’s hand moved, and Scratch bit back a flinch before watching it dip into a pocket and emerge with a square device. As he pressed the giant, terrifying button right in the middle, Scratch braced for pain.

Instead, the pressure around him retreated, and Scratch floated up into the air. Free.

Free, and alone with the Ghost Chaser, who kept the gun trained on his head even as scared tears pooled at the corners of his eyes.

They stared at each other in a stalemate, Ollie unwilling to put down his weapon and Scratch wobbling between forms as he considered whether to put his uncomfortably pent-up scare energy to good use. Or at least entertaining use.

“Run,” Ollie whispered, and Scratch couldn’t tell if it was a threat or a plea.

The instinct-induced haze lessened. If Ollie took the shot, he’d be disappointing Molly. (Who was he kidding, life without Scratch? He’d be devastating Molly!) But if Scratch proved the Chens thoughts on ghosts right, he’d be doing the same thing.

Ollie hefted the gun higher, looking no keener to use it. “Run,” he repeated.

The easy way out. No lie, Scratch had considered it immediately. Molly was safe enough with the Chens, and all he wanted was to disappear into a dark corner and forget this whole nightmare ever happened. He could run, and they’d be more careful, and this whole debacle meant Molly would stop hanging out with Ollie, and Scratch’s life could go back to normal. Save being on the run. Forever.

(Or until the Chens died out, and with Scratch’s luck this would absolutely turn into a multigenerational blood feud.)

Facts were: he was outed, and so was Molly’s connection to him. They’d never be safe, not while the Chens were determined to cleanse the world of ghostkind.

Scratch took a deep breath and thought of his family, and the last of his spines smoothed and his colour returned to its natural blue and his shape stabilized. It might’ve been easier to go underground, but even these past few months of avoiding their (many, many) ghost traps had triggered an exhaustion that would’ve been called bone-deep if he’d had bones. He didn’t want to put his family through that, and frankly, Scratch was just damn tired. All he wanted was to sleep for a century.

He'd finish this first.

“Look, Ollie,” he started, relieved to find the bass in his voice had returned to normal. “As far as ghosts go, I’m a pretty lazy guy. Rather take a nap, y’know? All that exercise ain’t good for you.”

Ollie’s eyes darted to the side, face screwing up in that ‘um actually’ wince that Molly liked to adopt whenever she annoyed him enough to bring up the flat-earth theory. The first flicker of character he’d shown since this whole standoff started. “Not how that works, but what do you mean?”

Scratch smiled at his mortal enemy, and somehow it felt natural. “Means I’m tired of running, kid.”

 END

[ravenflorals]

For your prompt ask:

Zutara, smutty, "run"

and we run

pairing: zuko / katara ( ATLA )

word count: 2540 words

rating: Explicit

warnings: consensual sex between two consenting adult ( post war , 20 & 22 ) characters

Excerpt: That this wasn’t one of the dirty little dreams she had under her sheets in the middle of the night. They’re both completely naked, bare as the day they came into the world. Yet Zuko covers her with his body like the finest silk dress. He’s warm and the way he fits so perfectly against her makes her heart flutter faster than any bird or insect. Her mind races until the point she can feel his cock tease her entrance. Holding back a gasp blue eyes meet ember as he continues to rub back and forth against her.

In the years Katara had known Zuko she truthfully never thought this was where they’d end up. Completely bare, with a sheet only covering them. The blanket was haphazardly thrown off to the side somewhere. Her back was pressed to Zuko’s chest as he held tightly to her.

“Zuko. You have a meeting with the earth kingdom in thirty minutes,” she mumbles, feeling him kiss alongside her neck and shoulders.

He hums “They can wait for me. I’m getting what I waited for.” Katara giggles at this, letting him push her down onto the mattress. Straddling her as the assault on her neck continues.

12 HOURS PRIOR

“You did a number on yourself ” Katara chastised as she took the water from the fountain and onto the spot Zuko had gotten a little reckless regarding his bending. There had been years of proper training between them. But unfortunately, they also knew of one another’s worst habits and how to get them on the edge.

They’d run from one another, ducking and covering wherever they could. Katara would stand in the center of the fountain, surrounding herself with water before firing off in his direction. Steam would fill rooms so they had to move to a courtyard.

She’d let her fingers run across his chest and shoulders. Tracing the marks over each scar and mark. Gazing at his frame she notes little imperfections. From the freckles and moles that speckle across his body, to the bruises that come from training. They’d run the same routine over and over, it became a constant of theirs. The only constant if Katara were honest.

They’d run the outline of the palace, a race against one another. Except this time around something happened that wasn’t in the routine. Sat on the edge of the fountain Katara runs a healing hand down the Fire Lord’s chest. Working on healing a small burn mark from training she tries to keep her focus on him. On healing him, on keeping any inappropriate actions at bay. She had healed him before, this was like any other time. She’d healed him with skin against skin, water whirling over the spots of anguish.

“You need to be more careful my lord,” Katara speaks, using the title as a way to mess with him. She knew how he felt regarding anyone using that title, worst of all one of his ambassadors. She had told him ‘It’s a way of showing respect’ and he rolled his eyes. He had earned the respect and had deserved the honor that came alongside it all.

Zuko eyes Katara as she stands in front of him. Standing at the front of his closed legs. Realistically the healing would work better if she could get closer to him. But she couldn’t get closer than standing between his legs. “Katara, I’ve expressed how I feel regarding that title,” he says, and the ambassador smiles trying to calm her rapidly beating chest.

“And I’ve expressed that I call you the title because it's one of honor,” she says, letting her hands linger against his chest

This conversation was a recurring one, the conversation of honor and the way it leads us to what we least expect. Regaining his honor was something that led him to the avatar. But then again, it led him to her. They were friends ——— best friends. Yet she always found herself running to him. There was something sweet in the simplicity. Despite them only getting a few hours alone a week. He was a busy man, she was getting busier too as the Southern Tribe fishing season approached.

“Well. Don’t call me it,” he says, leaning further into her touch. Letting her touch linger against him. Despite him bringing heat, he’s melting against her touch.

Keeping focused on him she stops her movements to stare at him. Brows raised “What would you rather me call you?” She asks moving to rest a hand against the side of his face. They’re friends. She repeats

“anything but my lord.” He pleads, keeping his eyes focused on her.

“Here let’s try some nicknames out.” She hums. “We could do my liege.”

“No.”

“Sparky.”

“Reserved for Toph.”

“Lord Sparky.”

“Absolutely Not.” He says sternly. During this time the two had somehow moved even closer together. Katara was between his legs and pressed against him.

There’s a feeling of something hard between her and Zuko. Realization slowly strums of what it is. Visibly tense, she lets out a quiet “oh.” Slip her lips. She’s not uncomfortable with this, she just didn’t know she had deserved that much of a response.

Zuko flushed a bright red, realizing she had been able to feel how he had felt at that moment. Practically pushing her away he stumbles over his words for a moment, trying to come up with something to say to cover this moment. “I feel like such a damn creep. I'm so sorry.” He says and despite blushing she shakes her head

“It’s completely natural… if you want.” She pauses and makes sure she’s making eye contact with him “I can help you relieve that?” She offers. “If I caused it… I can at least help.” She says and can hear his breath stutter.

“Katara, I don't think you know what you’re offering.” He says keeping his glance on her.

She steps back between his legs. “Do you want me Zuko?” She asks.

He swallows harshly before nodding. “I want you.” Things would completely change from those words. Lips pressed against his lips, they’re crushed together. Bodies pressed hard. She can feel the outline of his abs. And can feel her nipples pebbling under her shirt at the feeling.

“Wait wait. Not out here. But come back to my quarters with me?” Katara asks, glancing at him hopefully.

He takes her hand and they run.

They’re like teens again, despite not having been those teens or those people in a very long time. But they’re sneaking around. Even though this is his palace. He’s an adult, she’s an adult. They’re both unattached. Running down the hallway. Katara giggles as he throws open her door.

Katara watches as he steps out of his pants. He had already been shirtless, but the sight of him in front of her had her unable to breathe. “Can I touch you?” She asks pressing her lips back onto his. He nods rapidly. “Words my lord?” She says feeling a little bratty, just to ease into things without tension.

“Just touch me Katara.” He hisses out, watching as she reaches her hand down his front. Under the waistline of the cloth shorts, he’d still have on. She wiggles them off his hips, looking at his cock. Precum already sat at the tip, Katara licked her palm before swirling a finger across the tip. Movements are slow, each stroke, and pull are intentional as she wants him as close to the edge as she can get him. “hnggg—“ the moan slips out of him and she can feel herself grow wet at just the sound of him.

A few more strokes, varying in length and intensity get him coming, white streaks hitting Kataras hand as she removes her hand, sticking her cum soaked fingers into her mouth. “You will be the death of me.” He says throwing her onto the bed. “Be a good girl and start to strip for me.” He instructs.

She moves quickly to remove her top, unwrapping the layers of her chest binding. Before she can get her bottom garments off he stops her. “Don't. I want to take a second to look at you. “ he says “to touch you.” His hand traces down her chest. “And to taste you.” he admires her for a moment more. Her breasts are a glorious handful, with small freckles and moles all across them, there’s a scar, and he chuckles to himself at the idea that they have matching wounds. But the star of the show is her nipples, the brown-toned area is perfect for him. “You’ve been hiding these from me?” Holding one of her breasts with his unoccupied hand, and his mouth lands on them. Her breast is in his mouth, teeth playing with her nipple. She lets out a soft whimper at the contact.

He worships her and touches her skin with delicate strokes. It lights her on fire. Making her whole body want to scream. His hands further skate down her hips, he digs his fingers into her. Carving prints into her body like an architect with a cathedral. Each move with purpose, with purpose “Lift your hips for me.” He says, pulling down the loose wraps she used to sleep in. “Beautiful.” He says pressing a kiss to her bare core.

“Zuko.” She whines.

“Hold on. Let me make you feel good.” He says throwing her legs around his shoulders. Kissing up her thighs and finally, his lips find her cunt, and the way he moves against her. Worshiping her with his tongue, lips, and teeth. The edge of his scar brushes her most sensitive region, and in response, Katara’s hand comes to whack down and grasp Zuko’s hair.

When they had met first he hadn’t been the smoothest with words. He grew into his words as his lessons in press management continued. Now she was having a masterclass in the magic of his mouth. She comes in a big tidal wave of cries, sweat forming on her face. Then Zuko looks up between her thighs —— and Tui and La does he look wolfish. He’s feral with her release covering his mouth and chin. Dripping onto her thighs. “Was that —.”

“If you ask if that was okay. I’m never sleeping with you again.” She says panting from the pure intensity of the orgasm.

Her thoughts run wild as he moves up and presses his forehead to hers. Breathing in one another, for Katara she was still trying to remind herself that this was a reality. That this wasn’t one of the dirty little dreams she had under her sheets in the middle of the night. They’re both completely naked, bare as the day they came into the world. Yet Zuko covers her with his body like the finest silk dress. He’s warm and the way he fits so perfectly against her makes her heart flutter faster than any bird or insect. Her mind races until the point she can feel his cock tease her entrance. Holding back a gasp blue eyes meet ember as he continues to rub back and forth against her. It is still too close to her last one… he can't be serious.

“Zuk—oh!”

The tip would occasionally brush her entrance, causing her to grasp at the sheets below her. There’s no torture as sweet though as when he finally enters her. He starts slow but he stretches her out to an agonizing degree. He stays still for a moment. “You’re so warm.” He says between gasps of pleasure.

“Please… you can move.” she whimpers out to him.

“Are you … is this okay?” he asks and her heart beats even faster in her chest. He’s the only one who would ask if she was okay during sex. She was perfect, absolutely perfect.

Nodding Katara opens her eyes that had been closed. “I feel full... I like the feeling,” she admits. Allowing her hips to grind further into him. He groans and she can tell he’s already slowly breaking. He moves slowly, and while he’s hitting the right places. She isn’t fully satisfied. “Go faster…” she tells him, and he does just that. Thrusting into her, Katara’s hand slinks down to her entrance. Teasing at herself the thrusts harden and become more intense.

“Are you… dear gods——.” He says knowing just what she’s doing. And to go even further why she’s doing it? “Greedy little thing.” He says and Katara feels herself clench around him at those words. “Oh did you like that?” He asks with a smirk rising onto his face

“Shut. Up.” She grits out, continuing to buck forward to let him thrust into the right spots.

He’s inside her –————— gods this was better than his dreams. What he didn’t notice was that it slips “better than my dreams.” Echoes out and she looks at him.

“You’ve dreamed about this before?”

“At least once a week since Ember island” He admits shyly. But he knows he does something right when her lips are pressed against his.

It feels like a thousand butterflies. She’s not sure what she’s done in a past life to deserve the sight of him on top of her… she knows at this moment she’s in love with him. The kind of love that would make every single sappy romance novel jealous. But right now, hair wildly laid out under her and the way he looked at her when she broke their kiss to allow a soft sob to escape Katara's lips, Zuko's mouth moved from kissing her lips to leaving kisses and bite marks everywhere. Any place he leaves a bite, he sucks on it to soothe it. She’s going to be covered in marks that everyone would see. One under her ear, another across her breast, three on her neck. Her insides clench and she can tell she’s close “You’re a goddess. God, a genius in bed and on the battlefield. You’re unstoppable.”

And if the dirty talk from earlier caused storm clouds in her belly. The praise sends hurricanes to race throughout her.

She tightens and clenches hard around him. Coming with a sob that she’s sure the guards can hear. Yet right now, she doesn’t care who hears. His orgasm spirals from him with her name on his lips like a curse. He spills inside her—— “shit. I swear I didn’t mean to…” he says and she shushes him with a kiss as he pulls his still half-hard cock from her.

“Waterbender … remember?” She says allowing their liquids to be bent out of her and into a small waste bin in the corner.

NOW

The way he touches her makes her feel like she is his element. Being bent in whichever direction he sees the best fit.

“Wait wait. We should um… “ and she felt him take a nipple into his mouth. “Oh. no no, we should talk about this,” she says, wiggling out from under him. His brow furrows as he keeps his eyes on her. Like he’s trying to read her mind. “I want this. I want you. But I don’t think it's wise to let it distract us from our duties.” she says standing up to dress. He watches as she starts to wrap her chest.

“After the earth kingdom meeting… I don’t have another meeting till after dinner. Can we talk then?” before their meetings had been about radical groups causing rebellions, or the loudness that came with the industry disruptors of their nations. This meeting was about them. “We can talk about us. Not our duties.” he takes a step forward. “Not about our honor.” he kisses her cheek. “And not about our nations.” and kisses her lips. “Am I understood…?”

She smirks. “Yes my lord.” giggling at the sound of the groan that slips out.

[mazzystar24]

Just saw an anti Eddie fic about Eddie being rude to buck for infodumping and before that I’ve seen few bucktommy posts about Tommy being the only one to want to listen to buck’s facts

And like you mean this Eddie?

Be so fr he’s so “show me your rock collection babe” “tell me about beetle folklore” “and why exactly are dolphins assholes?” “Wait so why did pirates like black cats?” “Sure I’ll watch 3hr documentary with you” coded

Same man spouting goat yoga facts just cos buck wasn’t there, be so fucking for real guys

(Insert the “ I love this autistic man” audio here) - tho in my opinion adhd is more accurate for buck

[kettlefire]

Prepare for the unexpected. (DPxDC)

Everyone knew about the reign of Pariah Dark. Even those who did not dabble in those realms have heard the tale of the tyrant. A power-hungry man who ruled over the dead with an iron fist.

Following the rise of Pariah Dark, his realm had been effectively cut off from communication. Many mystics and magic users knew better than to open the door of nightmares that could arise if Pariah Dark's reach went further than his own realm.

Except, the universe had plans to bring the realm of the dead back into the cards.

A new opponent, one that had all of Earth's heroes scrambling for options. A being with powers of a god over weather, destruction was on the horizon. A world ending threat.

It's the only reason the Justice League was doing this. In a deep bunker, far from close civilization as a precaution, the heroes looked on with grim expressions.

The world was already being threatened. It would be destroyed regardless of what the league did. So it only made sense to make the last ditch effort. To summon someone strong enough to defeat the threat.

No one wanted to do it. No one wanted to be the one to pull the realm of the dead back to the living. The consequences were untold if this succeeded. If Pariah Dark was freed and defeated the threat, whose to say he won't want control?

That was a problem for later. For the aftermath. For now, the league could only watch on with bated breath as Constantine completely the summon ritual.

They watched on as the shadows in the room seemed to darken and grow. As the sigil sputtered to life with a glow that was growing increasingly brighter. A sudden gust of wind rushed through the room, the temperature began to drop with eaching ticking second.

And then it was all gone.

The room stood perfectly still. Just as it had been moments before. Nothing changed. No giant king standing before them, no sign that the ritual worked.

The room stood deadly still for another beat before the murmurs started. The team trying to make sense of the situation, figure out what went wrong.

Constantine swore up and down that this was the correct ritual, taking offense that they would even think the problem was on his end. It only made it better when it finally happened.

A loud sound ripped through the room, pulling everyone's attention back to the summoning circle. Just in time to see a tear appear in the space above the circle.

A thin tear that ran the length of eight feet. The fabric of the dimension seems to curl at the edges, pulling back to reveal a deep glowing swirl of greens. A dark gloved hand reached through, fingers curling around the edge of the tear, stretching it even further.

A portal. The ritual had worked, but there had been a delay. A delay that had every hero nerves on edge. Each team member tensed, weapons at the ready as they watched the being stretch the portal to the right size.

Then, a foot stepped out with a heavy thud. A dark boot that looked otherworldly despite its similarity to mortal clothing. A deep black that seemed never-ending. A second foot quickly followed before a full body emerged from the portal.

Not many people in the room have ever seen Pariah Dark, let alone know what to expect. Based on what Constantine and Zatara had said, this wasn't Pariah Dark.

A man had stepped out of the portal, standing at almost seven feet tall, and built like a brick house. One glance at the glowing white hair, deadly red eyes, and shard teeth was enough to know this being was not to be messed with.

But there was no giant show of armor or royal garbs. There is no large crown at the top of his head or jewelry from the infinite realms laced around his neck.

Instead, the man stood before them in combat boots, worn-in ripped jeans, a graphic t-shirt, and a spiked leather jacket. Despite his almost normal clothing choice, the man's jacket seemed to be a never-ending depth of the dark night sky. If one was to look closely enough, the cosmos could almost be made out in the sea of darkness.

None of that would have prepared them for when the man spoke. His tone sounded more bored than anything as he took a step forward.

"Oh, so now you need the help of the dead." The man had spoken, running a hand through his hair. When Batman took a step forward to speak, the man raised a hand. Immediately commanding silence in the single gesture. "I'm on babysitting duty and have yet to have a cup of coffee. I'll be right back."

Just like that, both the man and portal vanished into thin air. Leaving behind a group of stunned heroes. Not only was the man not Pariah Dark, but he was also supposedly babysitting.

"Did that just-"

The Flash had been the first voice to speak up, his eyes trained on where the man had once stood. Except he had barely made it through the first few words before the man was suddenly back.

The man that now had a child hanging off his shoulders and another teen being held up by his scruff. Unlike the man, these kids looked human.

Too human for Bruce's liking. The dark black hair and bright blue eyes had every heroes eyes flickering to Batman for just the briefest moment.

"This isn't fair! I'm not even the king. Why do I have to be here!" The teenager had been complaining the moment the man had reappeared. Arms crossed tight over his chest and seemingly used to being held dangling. "Besides, who brings kids to a show down! Wait til I tell mom about this."

"Aw, come on, Danny. This is gonna be fun!!" The younger girl seemed in much better spirits than the teen, Danny. She had climbed up the large man, sitting on his shoulders and resting her arms on the mess of glowing hair. "It's like take your kids to work day! Ooo, Dan! Can we fight too!?"

Unlike the two kids, the man looked purely exhausted and annoyed. The man, Dan, dropped Danny like a sack of potatoes as he took a long drink from the travel cup in his hand.

It didn't take a genius to recognize the look of an exhausted parent in Dan's expression. A look many of the league members were well acquainted to. A look that even had Batman grimacing with sympathy.

"Can it, little shits. You two were grounded, remember." Dan had growled at the kids before shifting his focus back on the team of heroes before them. His glowing eyes set in a deadly glare. "Pariah Dark isn't coming, and he never will. He's been dethroned and banished. We're the best you've got."

A summoning that started with a group of on edge and scared heroes looking for the ghost king, ended in a way no one expected.

No one was even sure if it made any sense. They weren't sure if they should feel hopeful or in despair.

Because truly, what was a ghostly man with two seemingly human children against a godlike foe with the control over the weather?

The unspoken question of power and ability seemed to vanish following Dan downing the metal travel cup of coffee, and crushing it in his fist.

He tossed it to the side, straighting up his posture as he looked over the heroes. Dan might not be a hero, but he's been playing family for too long.

An almost feral, bloodhungry grin spread across the man's face, sharp fangs on full display. The look made the man suddenly look even less human. He looked closer to a demon from the pits of hell rather than the exhausted parent he looked just a few seconds ago.

"Point me in the direction of this bastard. It's been too long since I let loose and had some fun."

[gammija]

tiefling jon's first day at the Archives

[captain-krow-drozdov]

Everyone Except For Siffrin Is Looping Au Except Someone Wishes That Siffrin Knew Everything There Was To Know About The Loops And Subsequently Accidently Replaces Their Non-Looping Siffrin With Post Game Canon Siffrin And They Only Find Out Cause Siffrin Gets The Memory Of Back In The Fucking Building Again.

[crtastrophe]

Kidpix commission for @facelessoldgargoyle! (character belongs to me)

[casscainmainly]

As much as I love Duke and Damian being the most adorable brothers ever, the tension between them is way underutilised. They both have very tenuous relationships to the Robin identity, and if you look at their interactions in Robin War, it's shot through with insecurity and dislike:

Specifically, Damian consistently refutes Duke's right to Robin. Robin War is the event that leads Duke to quitting Robin, and arguably he does this mostly because of Damian; Tim and Jason don't really interact with Duke, and Dick essentially endorses him. But the beef is not one-sided, because Duke consistently hits on Damian's insecurities as well:

Damian belittles Duke's friends and entire cause; Duke highlights how unwanted and abandoned Damian is. They are simultaneous Robins with incompatible views of what Robin should be. Damian, fresh from his journey in Robin: Son of Batman, sees Robin as atonement, a link to Batman, and a representation of his personal growth; Duke, in the middle of We Are Robin, sees Robin as power, freedom from adult authority, and a representation of collective community.

The worst thing Damian can say about Duke is that his Robin is meaningless; the worst thing Duke can say about Damian is that his Robin is alone. They both say that to each other. And then, they both give up Robin:

In Duke's case, he precedes saying "I'm not Robin" with "that's the difference between you and me." Their Robins are so wildly different, their ideals so opposed to each other, that they cannot co-exist as Robin. The risk of losing what Robin means to them, especially for Damian, fuels a lot of their early animosity.

This opposition continues in Batman & The Signal #1, where in Duke's dream sequence, there is only one person he imagines wanting to oust him from the family - Damian. But Bruce also pits Damian and Duke against each other in Batman: The Secret Files: The Signal, in Duke's favour:

Bruce drags Damian down ('requires continuous supervision') to uplift Duke ('Gotham's best'). The writing in this comic is very questionable, but this is reminiscent of the way he talked to Cass about Steph in Batgirl (2000). Cass is the acceptable girl vs. Steph's unacceptable femininity; in a similar vein, Duke is the acceptable Batkid of colour, whereas Damian's heritage is 'inconvenient'.

Which is why it's all the more important that, despite everything, Damian and Duke do love each other.

Damian, despite all his (understandable) ambivalence and outward disdain towards Duke, pretty much spends the entire comic trying to save him:

And Duke, when Damian defects to the Owls, staunchly refuses to believe he's gone for good. Tim and Jason also protest, but they get knocked out pretty quickly. It's Duke who refuses to give up on Damian. It's Duke who won't leave Damian alone.

Even though their Robins are complete opposites, Duke and Damian both know how big a deal it is to choose Robin; as the two Robins of colour (besides Dick, whose position is slightly different), they know how easily Robin can be taken away. It's why Duke, a virtual stranger, is the one to break through to Damian when nobody else could.

This panel from the end of Robin War hits so hard in context. Every interaction up until this point is antagonistic, and they have every reason to hate each other - but they don't. They choose not to. They choose to love each other instead.

[tomaturtles]

Happy Campus Apocalypse volume 1 16th anniversary here's something to celebrate

[blanze]

Nico knew exactly what Percy went through in HoH, how Tartarus pushes you to be your absolute worst just to survive, and just how badly it would affect him. After all, Percy is one stubborn kid that would absolutely beat himself up over what he did to that goddess, having no compassion towards himself. And you cannot possibly convince me that if things had gone just a little bit differently, Nico wouldn't have had the opportunity and compassion of stopping the nonesense, and Percy would have actually listened, for once.

It was supposed to be done for day 2 of @percico-nicercy-events : Powerful Percy and Nico.

Forgot to say: The Shadow is actually a Jungian concept, and I though that out of everyone in PJO, Nico would easily be the one most in touch with that side of himself!

[lucabyte]

Courtesy of @samhainian: The gang goes on hot ones

Bonus:

mean to them

[sweetsouldhavernas]

Mirrorverse Kathryn Janeway and Chakotay ↳ CRACKED MIRROR

[midnightmah07]

Happy birthday @4necdote !!! Tysm for being such a good friend to me and for listening to my rambles over my oc x canon and about my favs (ESPECIALLY DAIGGIE AND RUGGIE)... I love your ocs sm they're so creative and cool it makes me sick😫😫 VISLYN ILY!!!!!!💙💙💙

(inspiration/pose idea under the cut)

[mr-payjay]

aaaaaaart

[nenoname]

stan twins the canon cptsd brothers i will always think about all your unaddressed issues that would make perfect plot fuel for your spinoff

and also the whole 'stan getting that poem by bill via a website which contrasts with bill getting one from the axolotl via a website' foreshadowing thing

like idk i would love something like su future but like more optimistic, aka not an accumulated breakdown that has to be mostly resolved off screen at the end :/// but something thats being kinda addressed throughout? (although would love to see one of them turn into a monster thats always fun lol)

stan having severe issues from his dad and those years of being homeless that we keep on getting more info on but never really getting confronted on (the drifter catalogue and tijuana incident...), him being completely alone for like twenty years when running the shack before soos comes along to the point that 1998 is noted as his low point, and him not really learning about bill+what he did to ford until ages after he killed him if he ever did get the full context

while i think amnesia and everyone seeing him as a hero actually helped with stan's 'i'm a worse version of my brother' thing its still a lingering issue too and we now got him being insecure over his own hands

ford being immediately thrown from 'being tortured by bill' to 'being stuck in the multiverse and being chased by bounty hunters constantly', him fully expecting himself to die when destroying bill, and him only now being safe for the first time in 30 years ....relatively safe, he's still in constant danger because of course he is

idk in the end the series wants them to be happy and they deserve it, its why i wasn't too worried about the book being like 'ooh bill is back!! and the book is haunting ford' thing cos i knew they'll be ok