#bad mentor

[spiderversewishcaster]

Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because Jessica treated Gwen like a disobedient, disappointing, ungrateful child when she knows GOOD AND GODDAMN WELL what her home situation is.

Maybe it’s because she treated Miles like a fucking pariah from the moment she showed up in Mumbattan, not even giving him the courtesy of treating him like another human. I won’t even get into the issue of a black person treating another black person like a nonentity.

Maybe it’s that she’s pregnant and going to fight villains like Vulture or telling a hormonal teenager who just wants to see the boy she loves that she should stop feeling things WHILE SHE HERSELF IS PREGNANT, the most intimate thing that can happen to a woman. Might as well tell the sun to stop rising, for fuck’s sake. And yeah, Peter B. took his toddler daughter on a chase, but at no point did he ever put her in danger. He broke off the chase when he saw how violent things were getting, and he tried to come at Miles his own way, which WAS working until Lyla fucking butted in.

Did people even watch the fucking movie?!

[zaana]

best teamup in the show

[edorazzi]

Page 28 of my Miraculous Mentor AU comic A Matter of Trust! In which Felix's grand, extensively-researched plan of deception gets off to a less than impressive start... 🌹🌙

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[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 126

You know what would be hilarious? 

Constantine comes into one of those meetings as he sometimes does every blue moon. Though the proper word would be storms into a meeting and practically slams a whole stack of papers down. “Can someone bloody explain to me why the American-fucking-government is trying to go to war with the fucking Infinite Realms?!” 

The Justice League is of course alarmed and confused- and also John weren’t you in Hell?! Yeah, he was, where the fuck do you think he found out about this? 

Now if you’ll excuse him he’s going back to the House of Mysteries with his now haunted trench coat. John, John Constantine what the fuck do you mean by that? No don’t just leave, don’t leave this mess just for them- JOHN! 

[dukeofthomas]

Can't believe Bruce canonically picked up a random 12yo homeless child who had no intent to become a vigilante and suddenly thrust Robin onto him without asking if that's what he wanted because he missed Dick (whom he fired because being Robin was too dangerous) and people still act like any take that's not "all the Batkids became vigilantes on their own completely independent of Bruce (who tried so hard to stop them but sadly just couldn't do it)" is a complete idiotic bad-faith take and that you're crazy if you disagree with people saying that Bruce has never ever absolutely NEVER picked up a kid for the purpose of making them into a vigilante.

[yo-yo-yoshiko]

Watching this man and his misfortunes like a sporting event.

plus a closer look at these cause i legit pulled an eye muscle drawing them...

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

The Justice League had been a pain in Dannys side the last few weeks. They insisted that Danny needed a mentor, someone who could help him right in his ever growing list of abilities and whatnot. Danny snuck into one of the JL meetings in the watchtower to find out the real reason and discovered they saw him as a massive powerhouse that needed to be brought into thier side so his power "doesn't fall into the wrong hands". Ick.

Phantom was also pretty sure this had something to do with the bat be it contingency plans or adoption papers that guy is never too far from the top of Dannys list of "people I want to punt into the abyss for the weekend"

Its not that Danny doesn't want the help, he just knows how the League would eventually view him. He is of Lazarus. He is part monster. He has been ever since he died. Danny no longer thinks like a human does, he's "too violent" "obsessive" and "impulsive" by League standards.

Unfortunately, Danny is wired like that. His people are a part of the Infinite Realms immune system and play a key role in its overall ecosystem. There are legitimate biological reasons hes like this, ones that keep him from fading. The League doesn't seem to understand and he can't explain it in further detail without revealing his own weakness and the weaknesses of others like him.

So he just keeps refusing thier help...until he finds someone who the League also don't "agree" with which was strange since he was on thier team.

Plasticman was an ex criminal who has temptations towards money and has a hard time resisting. The stretchy guy also could turn his body into any shape and stretch any length he wanted and had no regard for the human form. Danny was in awe but the moment he heard the guy make a funny joke he made a decision.

If he had to choose a mentor from the JL roster than he picked this guy.

He announced his decision at the next JL meeting sending the place into an uproar.

Alternatively: Danny gives no warning and Plastic man just gets surprised when this glowy kid and his green puppy appear in front of him smiling happily and introduced himself as his new sidekick.

[ghostbsuter]

Damian was 10 when he was shipped off to his father.

He was 10 when he finally decided enough was enough, packed his stuff, called Mara, and the ball went rolling.

The moment Talia left the mansion, the DNA test confirmed, and Bruce emotionally compromised, did he finally move.

He'd stared his father down, felt nothing when he stood up and mild annoyance bloomed when his father asked– demanded– where he was going.

"You're a fool if you believe I will stay here." He spat, eyening the man in disdain.

It became very apparent that Damian wasn't what Bruce thought he'd be, what Talia thought he was.

"Your mother entrusted me with your safety–"

"I don't need protection. Mother wouldn't care if I stayed or not." He blinks. "Where is the cave? I wish to use the computer, I have people to contact."

Reluctantly, Bruce shows him the way, questions of who and why, and the plans he apparently had were asked.

Damian answers with vague wordings and enough open spaces for interpretation. Words greatest detective, he can figure it out himself without damian spelling it out for him.

When they do arrive in the batcave, Tim Drake— Robin— was sitting at the computer.

Huffing, Damian shoved the entire chair away from the table, taking its place and started typing.

"W— hey! What—? Who?" Tim looked between Bruce and Damian, despite being sleep deprived his eyes caught on the similarities, mouth dry and mind calculating.

"Does Dick know?" Is all he asks, leaning back and watching the younger boy work.

"Not yet."

A heavy sigh.

"Silence," the boy huffs, annoyed. "I'll have to make a call."

Glaring daggers, he pulls out a old burner phone, pressing the single number saved inside and waits.

"Damian."

"Hello, brother."

('Oh. Did he have another?' Tim wonders, watching Batman's face, blank like a paper sheet. Nothing. It feels like all his efforts of bringing the man back were just flushed.)

—

Or in simpler words:

Danyal al Ghul, the first successor of the demons head, born with his twin Athanasia al Ghul, to be the future of the league.

They were reborn with their former memories, stuck in place, constantly watched and trained. Manipulated. Weaponized.

All for a man playing immortal.

They'd only started planning when two more children came into the picture, Damian and Mara Al Ghul.

Danyal now Daniel "Danny" and Athanasia now Eleanor "Ellie" Nightingale took matters into their own hands and separated to take the kids in and end this.

End the league. End the cycle of whatever this, this cult is, and take over.

In many universes, Ra's al Ghul does not die, always returns, wielding his people like mere weapons.

In this universe, Danyal al Ghul is acknowledged as a traitor, killer of the Demons head and Older Brother, borderline father even, to his tiny brother Damian al Ghul.

In this universe, he raises Damian instead of Talia, shows him the cracks of this careful manipulated picture and listens when Ellie tells of her travels to this tiny child with a sad sad fate.

In this universe, Ellie takes in their tiny cousin, shielding her from the cruel eyes of a man not worthy. She trains her, shows her the ropes and takes her along when she leaves.

In this universe, Damian al Ghul and Mara al Ghul live a good live, protected by the twins of old souls and have a somewhat normal if not very complicated childhood.

[mr-frohickys-adopted-kid]

New Lloyd design, rah

[mmikmmik2]

one of the funniest fanon vs canon things is how Eda gets written in fic sometimes as a really empathetic, insightful, protective figure who is adopting kids left and right. and then you look at Eclipse Lake and Eda is ignoring Hunter and Amity having emotional crises because she’s preoccupied getting her preteen son to attack her with mining equipment

[moonbittern]

[threepandas]

Bad End: Chosen

I used to love Otome games.

Used to love the genre, predictable as it could sometimes be. It was bright. Fun. A colorful bit of escapism built on love and power fantasies. I read the books. Watched the animes. Engaged with the fandoms freely and with an enthusiasm I can barely remember now.

It was a lifetime ago.

Before I... before, like a monkey's paw wish, I got granted every OI fan's DREAM. I somehow, someway, died and was reborn. A genuine isekai all of my own. I laugh now... I really do... I was so fucking EXCITED.

I was a FOOL.

The world is not a story. PEOPLE are not characters. You can not push the "right" social imput buttons and have a happy ending pop out. Time moves as it always has and always will. Day by day. And? Just because you are HERE? Does not mean you are SPECIAL.

I was old enough to know that, thank the Gods. Or I would have made a likely terrible mistake. Probably a fatal one, by now.

How, you may ask? Surely if you are reborn, you are special! Important to the "plot"! HA. Ah yes, the all forsaken PLOT. That damnable thing, chaining out fates and making us dance, like toys, for the Gods amusement. No, I was merely a replacement part for one worn out and broken down. A soul that gave up.

This dance repeats, you know.

They aren't done with us yet. Not bored of us, all the twists and turns we might take. She could not keep fighting. Keep raging. And so she was replaced. Now I live... a changeling in her place. Knowing my role yet careful to defy it. But... oh...

Oh, how almost IMPOSSIBLE it is to defy it.

I am supposed to HATE her. The Protagonist. The Chosen One. Saintess and beloved. The God's special little thing. Showered in adoration and silks, pampering and protection. While we all DIE. In this, their STUPID fucking Holy War, that we CAN NOT WIN, against "The Dark".

How HELPFUL, my liege. How incredibly SPECIFIC. Is "The Dark" the demons that tore apart my squadron a fortnight ago or the undead that rose and devored an entire village of terrified innocents? How do we STOP them? END this infinite string of atrocities?

Oh? "Only the SAINTESS can push back The Dark"? Well then! It's a good thing she safely tucked away in the CAPITAL THEN, isn't it!? Far from the front lines where we NEED her! Thank the GODS she's getting her chance to play "fuck, fuck, marry!" with the nation's finest while we all DIE!

I remind myself again, desperately, I am not allowed to hate her.

If I hate her, I become an antagonist in this little play. Doomed to die a gruesome and needless death. My men need me. The people need me. The live and breathe and fear for their lives. At the mercy of cruel God's who do not care.

I almost... It is enough that I almost wish my Master was here. But no, HE stayed back at the Magic Tower. Lost interest in me the second the merest HINT that his beloved pet prophecy might be about to be fulfilled. I was his student for most of my life. Chased up and down that mind-bending hellhole for years, giving my everything to meet his every standard.

Does he even remember my name?

Ha ha... gods, as I stare down at the battle map, one of so SO many... I feel brittle. How long will we fight? How many of my men must DIE, before that God coddled BITCH gets off her ass and comes to do her JOB?! We've lost Redwell. Lakehill is covered in ghouls. And no one we sent near the forests of Mirth ever reports back.

But at least the crown prince is getting his fucking birthday party while his people starve. While they run for their lives. Cower from demons and the damned. Because his Twue Woooove~ can't be allowed to put her dainty little self in DANGER now CAN she?!

I'm seething. Furious. Nails digging into the wood on the table before me. I know I should be planning... but I just... gods, I just so ANGRY. So tired. How long can this continue? Am I going to die here, just so those fuckers can DRAMATICALLY "save the day" at the last second? As though they had not let thousands die? Only for it all to begin again? What am I supposed to d-?

Like a roll of thunder and an earthquake combined, the non-physical world SHAKES.

Weight. POWER. Like a mountain appearing from no where, to drop down upon us all. It is CRUSHING. And every bit as dark as being buried beneath tons on soil and stone. My legs nearly give out. My grip on the table before me the only thing keeping me up and alarm bells start clanging outside my tent.

This is it.

I don't know what's about to happen, but I can FEEL it. I... I can not possibly hope to win. It's over. I know, in my heart, I will go out there and fight. Die. Because I refuse to die cowering. Because maybe it'll make a difference for my friends, for the others, for those that yet live. Every monster I slay is one less they fight.

But... this is it.

It's over.

I wish I felt braver. Glorious and filled with light. A beacon of hope, perhaps. But all I can offer is fear and anger and SPITE. Locking my knees so I can stand. Blinking away the tears so I can grit my teeth and bare them. Grabbing my staff so can go a die with the others. Today I shall burn the world. I promised myself.

Take them with you.

Take every last one of those fuckers WITH YOU.

The battle is ugly. It always is and always will be. I heal where I can but kill faster the most can blink. Waves of fire. Blood turned to ice turn to shrapnel bombs turned to flying storms of blood ice shards. Wind attacks and void pockets. Puppets made of mud and rock and bits of armor. The blood of the fallen only making it all that much stronger, that much more terrible.

Magic in war hold no beauty.

I wish I never had to see it again.

"Grandlearner, you've been practicing." A rich voice observed from behind me, sounding pleased. "Good~"

Between one instance and the next, the crushing ocean of power moves between the far side of the battle field to right behind me. I move, spin. Fire my strongest short-range piercing in the desperate hope to gut the man now far too close. I... am effortlessly countered.

He didn't even have to move his hands.

There, standing in the heart of an open battle field, is a man in impeccable fomal clothes. Spotless, dispite the ash and dust, the blood and gore. Almost inhuman in his otherness, compared to the death and suffering surrounding him. He looks like a proper well-to-do gentleman ready for a stroll. The sort of ambiguously ageless bachelor that had haunted the royal university's halls every time I was sent there, to collect something for the Tower.

Too old to be some boyish flirt, too young to be a rougish mistake. It feels false. Mocking. Like a mask held up by some grinning beast. Something older then it seems, effortlessly blending in with the Power of the current age, all the better to play them like fools.

Then the words register and my blood runs cold.

"Learner". It's what a Master calls their personal magical students at the Tower. There are lineage, of a sort. Like bloodlines, almost. Since most never leave. A way to pass on your teachings. Your name and traditions. It's not like we often have the chance to have biological kids. Too busy with our studies. So it's considered effectively the same.

My Master's Master. Who was said to be one of, if not THE, greatest Mages of the last thousand years, possibly longer. Said to have simply vanished one day. Rumored to have "lost his mind" and left the Tower for places unknown after some great argument. Foremost expert on The Dark.

Now standing h...here. Right... Right here. With the enemy army. Of dark and terrible things. The very abominations he once studied "academically". Oh gods. It doesn't take much to put two and two together.

"I've come to collect you, my dear." He says, the very picture of charm as my men scream and suffer around him. As they fight for their lives against his monstrosities. As... as they LOSE. "It has come to my attention, that my unfortunate disappointment of a student has been neglecting his duties to you."

He sweeps his hat gallantly from his head, holding it against his heart at just the right angle, as though offering to merely take me for a stroll. Picture perfect etiquette. As though this were high society and not a warzone. The disconnect stuns me for long moments. "Collect" me?

He strolls forward. Expensive shoe leather somehow unstained by the terrible muck of the battlefield. The blood and mud, the spell water and ash. Amusement rolling off every line of his form, as I try to keep the distance between us. As I struggle against the sucking filth to keep my feet under me.

"I would like to say I am surprised... but honestly? I am not. He always WAS easily distracted by shiny trinkets of little worth. The shinier the better. Like an empty headed little magpie. Disgusting really, how little he values loyalty. I DID try to instill some values. Hard work. Good, honest, study. Some modicum of rationality..."

"It did not work." He sighs, stepping over the fallen body of my Cordelia, my reserve healer. Gods, please no, I told her to RUN... "Unlike myself of course. I, my dear, know EXACTLY what your worth. How you have been WASTED on that little ingrate. It truely has been a theme with him, hasn't it?"

"Tossing aside anything who doesn't fit his perfect little vision. His Master, his Learner, nothing is sacred to him. All he shall ever care for is his little divine tart, won't he?"

The grin that spills across his mouth is like poison through veins, it terrifies me. His face is arranged in a mask of pleasantry. But the look in his eye... that look was coldly covetous. The sort of hunger that would sooner kill than release its hold. It wasn't lustful, I was a child too him. An infant. But I was, perhaps, all that remained. The last piece of his lineage he could possibly still steal away. Corrupt.

I refused.

It... it did not matter much, in the end.

Every spell, he counters. Every attack, he matchs with effortless neutralization. The well of his magic is like the sea. Deep, dark, and crushing. I rage against it, even knowing I stand no chance. I... I have to TRY. I can do no less. Even as I slowly collapse.

Water and ice, electricity and transformation, wind and fire. I try to EXPLODE HIS ORGANS for the Gods sake. In the end, with nothing left, the well of my magic nearly bone dry... I swing at him. Put my back in to it. A staff is a staff after all. It even has a pretty hefty rock in it. It'd probably take out a few teeth.

He, of course, catches it.

Bastard.

He looks CHARMED. Utterly delighted. As though my defiance and struggle are some cute little game. The tantrum of an adorable child that does not wish to submit to their nap. The world swayed as my body begs me to just pass out. To escape within myself. Recover. My legs can no longer hold me. I glare. At last, long last, I let myself HATE.

If that BITCH had just DONE HER JOB. I would not be here, at the mercy of a mad man. While she frolics about, in her happy little tale of love and misunderstandings? I have suffered. People have died! The world has fallen to slow and crumbling RUIN.

Gloved hands cupped my cheeks.

"That's it, little one~ My precious child. Get angry. RAGE for me. Let Master see your fire~" thumbs stroked my cheeks. Looming and entirely too close. There is a glee in that eye, a madness. "We are going to set this world FREE. You? Oh dearest you are utterly PERFECT. Master will take care of everything, understand? All you have to do?"

"Is give in."

Next -->

[aardvaark]

i don’t think we talk enough about how sophie copied her life philosophy from a kenny rogers song lmao. how many times do the leverage team pick her up on trying to pass off song lyrics as advice? or plots of films and books as Definitely Real Anecdotes. like they’re all at the bar telling some scary stories that happened to them and suddenly someone interrupts her like "ohhh fuck you that’s The Cask of Amontillado" and everyone groans. hardison sees parker’s notes from being mentored by sophie and about half of it is (admittedly applicable) paraphrased song lyrics.

[edorazzi]

Page 19 of my Miraculous Mentor AU comic A Matter of Trust! In which 1999's Chat Noir and Ladybug cross paths for the first time and find their Miraculous powers don't mix! 🧨💥

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Weekly updates each Sunday! You can also read ahead early on Patreon, and/or buy me a Ko-fi if you'd like to support my work! 💖

[gray-thistleclan]

MOON 15 (sparrowswipe edition)

[kaidatheghostdragon]

Dani x Jason Prompt

(Because i dont see enough of these two together. Also, this is another prompt i found in my fic files that i never did anything with.)

While Danny is in Amity Park protecting the ghost portal, Dani explores the world. Danny might be powerful enough to put down any threat, even Ancients, but she isn't as lucky. Her best defense against Vlad or the GIW is to never be in the same place two days in a row. Not to say she isn't powerful in her own right - she's yet to meet a ghost in her travels that she couldn't utterly crush, and even if she had, she's got the most loyal dog in both this world and the next to have her six.

Dani has discovered a great deal of beauty throughout the world in her few short years of life, but also unfathomable evil and undescribable corruption. She does what she can in every place she passes through, her ghost powers the ultimate cheat code for investigation and subterfuge, bringing to light the things that once hid in the dark.

But while scoping out yet another child trafficking ring, she crosses paths with a spirit of vengeance. At least, that's the only explanation she can come up with for how he's able to turn his shock and horror into pure rage at the flip of a dime.

Until she realizes that he's a baby halfa. If he doesn't learn how to mediate his emotions, he's going to burn out one of his halves.

Maybe she can help him stabilize into a proper spirit of justice and keep him from following the path that Vlad went down - oh shit, he doesn't even know that he's undead. Well, this is going to be a project and a half. But Dani is nothing if not resourceful - she's more than willing to put in the work if it means making an ally of the fourth known halfa.

Featuring:

Dani and jason are about the same age (16-17ish)

They run into each other during jason's LoA-sponsored world tour, investigating the same trafficking ring

Cujo is there too

Dani totally helps with the crime lord grand plan, but also wrestles jason down from the more messed up family drama stuff he did, like attacking tim, and knocks some sense into him and finds a better solution for dealing with the joker