#it’s not their fault my adoptive father has such a white man last name

[stigmatacunnilingus]

I’m so glad my relationship w my birth name is neutral now bc it’s literally so common

[ourmadmusings]

a/n: bc anon asked for a part three, and im super cheesed about it. I wasn’t gonna post it until tomorrow, but what can I say, im a generous god. 

Take me far enough to say we’ve gone - 

Miguel O’Hara was also a nervous man, as it turned out. He was nervous for you, afraid of what the light in his chest had to offer when he saw you return from a successful trail-run. His bluff was called, it seemed, and you passed with flying colors, earning a wide smile from Peter B. as he dropped you off, once again in O’Hara’s main quarters. The heavy glow from all of his screens casts him in an ever-intimidating light, that seems to be his theme with you. Scary.  He’d watched you with rapt attention on your little assignment, not sure why he’d anticipated the worst to happen to you - worst-case was Peter stepped in and bailed you out, but he’d informed Miguel that he hadn’t even needed to give any advice, a silent watcher, only coming down from his perch on a near building to show you how to activate the force-field device and ring in for a transfer.  “Well, looks like you’ve earned a permanent position amongst our ranks, huh?” He’s mumbling a little, he seems a little deflated as he says it. “Isn’t that a good thing?” You’re raising a brow behind your ever-present mask, nary a ding on your suit. He can tell how much confidence the mission had given you, your shoulders not tilting inwards like they had the last few times he’d loomed over you. Your back was straight, and your hands pressed firmly on your hips in the shared stance every spider-person adopts when they know they’ve done well.  “Of course it is, but these missions aren’t always gonna be so easy, kid.” He mirrors you, standing up straight, leaning down slightly to make his point, “there’s gonna be a mission for each of us that we can’t come back from, you know that, right?” It’s almost threatening, the way his red eyes bore into your white eye-covers. He watches your chest deflate a little at the comment, a pang of remorse runs through him for saying it in such a harsh way. Truly, he just wanted you to be aware of the risks here, the sacrifice that you may be called to make one day. Each of them was expected to lay their life down for the greater good, and he wasn’t exempt from that, either. In his mind, he was offering you an out, a second chance to save your own hide if that’s what you really wanted, before taking on such a lofty responsibility. You jump a little when you hear the door slide open behind you, “jeez, Miguel, as pleasant as ever, aren’t’ya?” It’s the Peter that came with you, “Mayday is asleep-” who? “-Why d’ya always try to scare the new kids, don’t you think she’s proved herself enough?” He looks at you with a warm smile, the kind a father would wear as their kid rounded home for the first time, “I think you killed it, kiddo, don’t let him take the wind from yer sails. I was impressed,” you feel your cheeks heat up at his blatant praise and mumble a sweet thank-you, absent-mindedly kicking a pretend pebble as he claps a warm hand on your shoulder. He doesn’t stop, “why don’t you take your mask off and breathe a little, huh? It must feel terrible in there after the long day,” you can tell he’s being genuine when he asks, bending down to stare right into your mask with a slight tilt of the head, but you can’t help the itch on your forehead when the mask isn’t there, especially thinking about having to make direct eye contact with O’Hara.  He cuts in, “she says she’s more comfortable with it on, Peter.”  “Well, that sounds like a lie, she’s probably just terrified of you, chief. Especially when you go around making threats like that on a debrief.” They carry on like you’re not standing right there. “It’s not my fault if I want them to be aware of the risks, Pete.” How informal of him, using a pet-name, you think. “Yeah, well, the least you can do is thank’em for once. Not everything has to be so life and death. It’s no wonder our turnover is so bad, I have to wonder what our unemployment payout looks like.” They’re not stopping, you really consider making a quick escape while the two men, obviously very good friends based on Peter’s razzing, carry on talking over your head.  “I want to think you’re joking but-” “Tax fraud is no joke, ‘El, you know that.”  You’re…Uncomfortable now, he was right, your mask was kind of stifling after working so hard to have a no-loss mission, there’s still sweat dripping down the back of your neck as the two of them chirp on and on, back and forth. The heat from all the monitors has your vision swimming a little and you start to get a light headed trying to keep up, eventually heaving a heavy sigh of your own. A small, shaking hand makes quick work as you tilt your head down, hair messy as you shake your head, finally getting a good breath of fresh air from outside your protection. Both men stop mid-sentence and stare.  Peter is the first to speak up, not missing a beat but teasing as ever, “there she is, as pretty as ever,” he’s smiling-still. “Feels better, right? Don’t worry about it, we all know how to keep a secret kid, you’re safe here, with us.”  O’Hara just lets a heavy breath fall from his nose and turns away from the two of you, “I have work to finish, Peter, can you get some food for the two of you, please? Consider it a celebration, since you’re so keen on rewarding everyone for just doing their damn job.”  Peter mumbles something as he steps behind you, guiding you with hands on your shoulders, pushing you a little from your spot in the middle, “yeah, yeah, come on.” His head snakes around to smile at you again, “not to brag, but the food here is amazing.” 

It’s quiet after you leave and let the door slide shut, Miguel takes a shaky breath in, and out. He couldn’t help the pang of...jealously? Remorse, maybe, that he couldn’t be the one to tell you that you were safe with them, reassure you, tease you the way Peter was so confident in doing. The way your rosy cheeks looked so pretty, like Pete had said, plays over in his head time and time again for much longer than he’s proud of. He wanted you to know you were safe with him. At the end of it all, he wanted to make sure you were safe.  He’d seen you on his monitors for weeks before calling you to help them, walking around your New York in your street clothes. When Jess had caught him staring at you with such a heavy scowl, he’d said he just wanted to make sure you were keeping it above the wire, doing his due diligence to make sure he wasn’t hiring some loose-lipped kid. She only smiled at her feet, seeing right through his little lie. 

He was even more curt with you after you became comfortable enough to venture the halls without your mask, usually late at night when you knew less folks were around, but pluck his eyes from his skull before he admitted to the dull ache his ability to give you comfort enough to be maskless gave. He really did try to be more inviting with you, even briefly considering taking you on a more risky mission with himself and Jess. Of course, the anxiety that bubbled dashed any hope of one-on-one time in the field. He’d ask you about your canon events, trying to find a way to connect with you. However tight-lipped he was, you were moreso. Mumbling a quiet affirmative or negative, then steering the conversation back to work, against his best efforts. He thought it must feel that way with him, sometimes, when folks try to talk with him. He found himself missing your wry jokes, not as jovial as the run-of-the-mill spider, still keeping a shred perspective on your life of sacrifice. He, of course, knew all of your canon events, he could lay them out by dates and times if he wanted, he’d spent more time than he’d ever admit to on his little…Obsession with you.  It worried him, how fond of your company he’d become in the short time you were helping him. He was really trying to connect, honestly, but every time it felt like he was putting his hand on a hot-plate, and every time he was reminded of what his job meant - sacrifice. And God himself couldn’t convince him of the idea of sacrificing you for this chosen life.  He, as a result, decided to pull back. Treat this as a little passing fancy, maybe you just reminded him of being young again, careless, caution to the wind and so on. 

Months trickled by, trying his best to get you to smile at him despite his resolve to let it all go, to hear your laugh at least once was all he needed to get through his day, it seemed. He was embarrassed, in all reality, he was still technically your boss, no matter how informal that seemed in the walls of the citadel.  “-well, at least that’s what I thought, but Hobie said she was quite the up-and-comer.” He tried to listen to you, but the way you licked your lips made his skin tingle, “I may swing by and meet her, he seems super excited.” You’re leaning over his desk while you talk, Miguel had lost the plot, though. “As excited as someone like him can be, y’know.” “Yeah, send out the welcome wagon, no?” He smiles a little, typing away at some code that needed fixing.  “Ha - well, it’s not like you’re one to do it, you’ll scare her off like a wolf would a hare.” You’re staring at the screen when his fingers stop, hovering over the keys like he’d lost his train of thought, “what’s that supposed to mean?” He turned to face you, eyeing you with a heavy scrutiny, as he was wont to do. “No, nothing bad, I guess. You’re just so dramatic sometimes, it’s weird until you get to know ya’.” There’s a chuckle hidden between the words spilling from your mouth, he wonders if you realize how much he loves when you tease him. It makes him feel more human, less isolated.  “I’m just making sure they all kn-”  “-All know the risks involved, yeah, I’ve heard it all before. I think you’re just pretending so no one knows you’re a big softy.” His fingers haven't moved from above the keys. He leans back in his chair, his straight back finally relaxing a little, “and where do you get off thinking you can talk to me like that, kid?” There’s a stark lack of actual annoyance in his voice, a few months ago, you’d think he was actually offended you’d speak to him that way, but the keen look in his red eyes betrays him these days. “I think Peter is starting to rub off on you.” You laugh a little and smack his shoulder, “someone’s gotta keep you in check around here, right? He can’t shoulder all the burden of your grumpy ass!” You’re smiling down at him, having moved at some point to lean closer. He feels the tips of his ears heat up a little.  “Yeah, well, tell anyone and I’ll have to do somethin’ about it, kid.” You’re a little surprised at him, in the best way. He’s got a full smile, just like the one he wore when you told him about the dryer sheet below your mask, your cheeks heat up and you move to hop off the platform, “hey” a finger pokes at his shoulder -  “don’t start writin’ checks there, boss, or I’ll have to ask you to cash’em some day.” You don’t turn around to face him as you continue, “it’s our secret, I guess. For now, at least.” You pull your mask back over your head as you walk out the heavy door.

He groans a little as the door slides shut, leaving him in the soft hum of all of his monitors - he doesn’t finish the line of code before he shoves himself away from his desk and starts the long trek back to his own private room for the night.

a/n: big man said feelings are for dummys. Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 4-

[shipcestuous]

Never really considered Elrond/Arwen as a ship, but that anon's message and your reply to it reminded that I HAD thought of them in hypothetical "this sounds like a love triangle" terms before.

So, here's a couple of details I hope you guys will appreciate!

In the movie, Elrond looks like a stern, mature, authoritative figure in contrast with Arwen's youthful beauty. In the book, however, they're both said to possess an ageless beauty, looking neither young nor old. Book!Elrond has the wise, venerable air of an old king but the vigor of a young hero, as well as a beautiful face and an appreciation for both merriment and pleasant things (good food, good music, comfortable rest, etc.) and quieter, more introspective moments. Book!Arwen, with her lustrous black hair, grey eyes glittering like stars, smooth and soft white skin, and stark resemblance to Luthien (Arwen's ancestor and possibly the fairest Elven maiden in Middle-earth's history, to whom Arwen is said to be so similar, she could pass for her reincarnation) actually looks so much like him that Frodo figures out they must be related in some way at first glance.

Elrond had a wife, Celebrian, who gave him three children: twins Elladan and Elohir, and then Arwen, the only daughter. Tragically, Celebrian was captured and tortured by orcs, and while her sons later rescued her and she recovered from the physical injuries, Elrond never managed to help her mind heal from the trauma. So, eventually, she sailed to the West, hoping to find peace in Valinor. I'm not sure how old Arwen would be by that point, but I could imagine her stepping in to take on her mother's duties as the lady of the house in some capacity, leading to potentially suggestive scenarios. I could also imagine her trying to console both her father and her brothers, telling them that what happened to Celebrian wasn't their fault and helping them face the sad truth that they simply couldn't have done more for her.

From The Tale of Aragorn and Arwen in LOTR's Appendices: "And [Arwen] stood then as still as a white tree, looking into the West, and at last she said: "I will cleave to you, [Aragorn], and turn from the Twilight. Yet there lies the land of my people and the long home of all my kin." She loved her father dearly." 'Nuff said. Beautiful juxtaposition whether you ship them or not.

Aragorn himself is both distantly related to them and was essentially raised (at least in part) by Elrond. For the former, as the last descendant of the kings of Numenor, his bloodline actually started with Elros, Elrond's twin brother who, when faced with the choice between Elves and Men due to his half-elven nature, chose mortality. For the latter, when Aragorn was only two years old, his father Arathorn was killed by orcs, so his mother Gilraen took him and went to Rivendell, where Elrond took care of Aragorn as if he were one of his sons and only revealed his true name and heritage to him when he was twenty. Unfortunately, what could have been a sweet foster/adoptive brosis romance was thwarted by... Arwen spending that whole time on a visit to her grandmother Galadriel (yup, she's Celebrian's mom!) and missing out on Aragorn growing up, only coming back when he was already a young adult. Still, Elrond is less opposed to Aragorn marrying Arwen in the book, worrying about her marrying a man of lower birth than her (Elrond's has a VERY illustrious family!) and a mortal at that but being more accepting of their love (after all, Luthien herself fell for the mortal Beren and never backed down on her decision in spite of a long strings of hardships, dangers, and deaths), so it couldn't be too far off to imagine him being at least somewhat moved by the idea of his "son" making his daughter happy.

So many great details, Anon. Thank you!

The love triangle vibes are so amusing. I love the idea of Arwen stepping in as a substitute mom. And yeah, the movie depicted Elrond in a certain way, but just because he's older than Arwen doesn't mean he's old. He's not even an especially old elf, compared to someone like Galadriel, right?

[princessjaqulinechess1031]

by the bedside

Characters: Damian Wayne, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Adrien Agreste, Jason Todd

Summary: A job goes wrong, and Marinette fears the worst until Damian wakes up. 

Notes: Cross-posted on Archive of Our Own. 

Sequel

"À la claire fontaine," a soft voice sung, pulling Damian out of his hazy daze. "M'en allant promener, j'ai trouvé l'eau si belle…"

Damian groaned and tried to turn on his side, to try and reach whatever it was singing, but the moment he did, the song stopped and was replaced by a gasp. Damian blinked his eyes open, ignoring the sting, and saw sitting next to him was a disheveled and red-eyed Marinette sitting next to him.

"Damian….," she whispered. Damian tried to reach out a hand to her, but found that it felt like lead. Moving it felt like a splitting pain, and it was weighed down by a cast. Damian shut his eyes and leaned back into the pillow. The building, the explosion, and –

"Adrien?" Damian croaked. Marinette nodded her head and took the hand not enclosed in a cast in her hands. She gave it a gentle squeeze and smiled.

"He's fine," Marinette said. "He's doing damage control with your brother."

Ah, yes. Dick. Nightwing had come to Paris as one Dick Grayson, something to do with Wayne Enterprises or other, when he had realized what Damian was up to. Robin had become an unofficial third member of Paris's own dynamic duo, Ladybug and Chat Noir once all their allies identities were exposed. Hawkmoth was long gone, so it was just petty criminals and the like, but adding a fourth member to that so suddenly had thrown everything off. Even if it was for one mission. A bomb was missed, and now –

"How long was I out?" Damian asked. He narrowed his eyes and looked around and saw a familiar location had enveloped him. "And ho-how did we get to the Batcave?"

"Two days," Marinette said breathlessly. "And a Zeta tube."

Ah, Zeta. He should have known. Damage control probably meant making sure Paris still had someone patrolling and keeping it's citizens safe.

"Nightwing insisted we bring you back here," Marinette said. "Said you should be with family."

That meant it was touch and go for a moment. Damian felt unfrazzled by the brush with death, how many times had he had one since he was born? Not to mention he actually had died once. He looked down at Marinette's outfit, and saw she was wearing the same purple sundress she had been wearing before her transformation two days ago.

"H-have you been here the whole time?" Damian asked softly. Marinette looked down at her fingers sheepishly.

"I-I had to be sure," Marinette said. "When the Lucky Charm didn't work, and –" Marinette cut herself off with a chortle of tears. "Ma moitié, I had to make sure you weren't dead."

Damian shut his eyes. This was what frazzled him. He knew in their line of work, one got hurt. Sometimes you didn't walk away. But to hurt Marinette, to make Marinette feel hopeless and lost as Damian fought on a hospital bed. Marinette was the one good, pure thing he had ever been able to keep, and to make her feel pain felt like a betrayal.

"You should have gone home," Damian said slowly. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

Marinette shook her head and squeezed his hand.

"If you expected me to do that, then you don't really know me."

Damian turned his head to the side, and tried to ignore the sharp burst of pain at the top of his back from the movement. But try as he might, he still winced. Marinette reached forward and put a hand on his shoulder to try and steady him again.

"Be still, ma moitié," Marinette said. "Monsieur Pennyworth said it was best for you to remain as you are."

Marinette was so polite, and despite Alfred's continued insistence, Marinette continued to call the man by his proper name. Damian found it was one of many adorable things about her to love.

"Nawaret aynaya," Damian said, "I promise I'm fine –"

"No you're not!" Marinette busted out. "You're hurt, you- you nearly died! All because I couldn't keep my team – I got distracted and –"

The young girl burst into tears, and Damian took his hand from her grasp and reached up to caress her cheek. Oh, Marinette. She always took ever mistake, every misstep, as some misgiving on her part. To Marinette, the safety of all Paris and all of her friends sat squarely on her shoulders. She might shoulder that responsibility with her brother Chat Noir, but Marinette would always hold it as a personal stake in her heart.

"It's not your fault, nawaret aynaya," Damian said softly. "This – this comes with the mask, you know that. If you had or had not been there, this would have happened eventually." He wiped away a tear form her cheek, and Marinette reached for the hand still caressing her. "I love you Marinette. And I know you would never hurt me. So stop blaming yourself."

Marinette gave a weak smile.

"If you expect me to stop just like that," she hiccupped, "then you don't really know me at all." She sucked in a deep breath and rubbed her thumb across his wrist.

"I love you too," she said. Damian's heart sang. For seventeen years he had waited for something and someone that would look at him and not see a monster. Not see an assassin or a danger or someone to fear. And by some miracle, that person turned out to be the love of his life.

And he'd be damned if he let her go.

"He's flatlining, I'm calling it," a voice said, breaking the moment around them. Damian retracted his hand and Marinette wiped away a last tear. In the doorway stood one Jason Todd, mask gone but still wearing spandex and his leather jacket. "Mari, time of death?"

Marinette bit her lip and looked down at her hands, but Damian could see the beginnings of a smile on her face. Jason stepped into the room and dragged a chair from the corner and sat down next to Marinette with a loud thud.

"Papa Bat should be here in a little bit, Brat Bat," Jason said. He took out his gun and began to fiddle with it, probably to clean it since he pulled out a white cloth from his pocket. Damian frowned.

"I'm not a brat," Damian said. Jason rolled his eyes.

"You might be seventeen, but you're still a brat sometimes," Jason said. Marinette looked up from her hands, that familiar mischief shining in her eyes.

"You're kinda. Sometimes," Marinette said softly. Jason laughed and slung an arm around the girl's shoulder.

"Ah! I got the girlfriend on my side!" Jason said. "I win!"

Normally Damian would keep going and insist he wasn't a brat, but Jason was as transparent as a plane of glass. Jason was trying to cheer up Marinette with this joke, and Damian was not going to try and ruin that. Marinette was going to be happy and not worry too much about Damian, that was his mission.

"What did you win?" Adrien asked, popping his head into the med bay. His blonde hair was still damp, meaning he probably just got out of a post-patrol shower. He came up behind his adopted sister and hugged her from behind, placing a kiss to her temple.

"Marinette admitted Damian was a brat sometimes," Jason said.

"I am not!"

"Yeah, you are," Adrien said. Tim and Dick entered the room, and Tim was texting someone on his phone. Probably Stephanie, telling her he was okay. Dick pulled a chair over to the other side of Damian's bed and leaned back, his long legs stretching out underneath the medical bed.

"Be nice to the injured child," Dick said. Damian frowned.

"I am not a child," Damian said. "I am the same age you were when you went solo, Grayson."

Dick raised a brow. "And? I was a child then, henceforth, you're a child now."

Damian furrowed his brow again and Marinette laughed softly, but once again he did not fight. If it made Marinette smile, it was worth it.

His father finally materialized, Alfred behind him. His father was as stoic as ever, his eyes steeled and guarded thanks to the new visitors to the Cave. Despite the Miraculous duo having been unofficial members of the Batfamily for a year and a half, Father still seemed opposed to giving them official membership. Damian wondered if it had anything to do with Marinette being his girlfriend. He hoped not.

"Master Damian," Alfred said, and a phantom smile overtook his professional form. "I see you are recovering well. I assume Miss Marinette has made sure you've stayed where you should?"

"He only woke up a little while ago, Monsieur," Marinette said. Her lips upturned wickedly. "The real problems in that regard have not started yet."

Adrien laughed and hugged his sister tighter.

"Trust me, mi'lady is here is plenty capable of keeping Damian in line."

Once upon a time, Damian had been jealous of Adrien's nickname for Marinette. Now Damian knew better. Adrien may have once been desperately in love with Marinette and Ladybug, but once one Kagami entered the picture it was game over. Now, the nickname was mere relic of that time and a testament to the depth of their bond.

"I expect nothing less," Alfred said. Father stood at the foot of his bed. He was still dressed in his suit, but his cowl was down, revealing his identity. That made Adrien and Marinette's lack of inclusion even more baffling – they knew who all of them were, the biggest secret they had.

"Are you alright Damian?" Father asked. Damian nodded.

"Yes Father," Damian said. A sigh of relief left his father's form. Despite medical evidence, after everything that happened with Jason, Father would never be certain of his kid's state until he heard from them exactly.

"Well, I mean, wasn't he just fighting with Jason?" Tim asked. He looked up from his phone. "Me and Dick heard them outside. If he's in a fighting mood, he's fine."

"I almost died, and you guys treat me this way," Damian said. Jason rolled his eyes.

"Shut up, this is how we show our love," Jason said. He eyes Dick. "Except for Dick. He does the whole normal shit. Damn well-adjusted asshole."

"Damn non-well-adjusted asshole," Dick shot back. Marinette giggled. Father turned to Marinette and Adrien.

"You two can stay here as long as you need, to make sure Damian is okay," Father said. Damian tried not to let his surprise be palpable. Marinette and Adrien were barely allowed in the Batcave half the time, now Father was offering to let them stay while Damian recovered? What had happened in the time he was asleep? "You can Zeta home for clothes, if you need them. But we have enough clothes that might fit you Adrien, and I'm sure Cass left some things behind before going to Hong Kong."

"Thank you, Monsieur Wayne," Adrien said for the both of them. Marinette smiled and then turned her attention back to Damian.

Damian for seventeen years wondered what it would be like to be purely loved.

Now he knew. It came from Marinette Dupain-Cheng, that kind of true love

[soulmate-game]

“Are you paw-sitive this is alright?” Selina half-purred half-asked. The slender cat thief was dressed casually— for her, anyway— in a floor length amethyst purple gown that swept just barely above the floor, accentuating her curves and coming down in a deep V neck that was just barely within the constraints of being acceptable for public appearances. Her companion, almost half a foot shorter even in her short heels, was a stark contrast. It was as if all the two women had in common was their hair color, a rich deep black that shimmered blue in the right lighting.

Marinette, with her hair done up in two buns and wearing a sensible pink-and-white cheongsam top with apple blossom embroidery paired with an ankle-length denim skirt that had a knee-high slit in the front, nodded even as she eyed her friend’s choice of outfit with a small frown.

“Of course. Bruce is in the media’s eye all the time, and he knows I don’t have a care for the spotlight. But you do,” Marinette stopped talking for a second, snapping her fingers and reaching into her purse. She pulled out a gorgeous inch-thick collar necklace that was made entirely of thick panels of flawless silver and high-quality diamond. At the very center of the collar necklace, where it would hang right in the center of Selina’s collarbone, was a diamond-and-obsidian cat face. “I knew I was forgetting something! Bourgeois owed me a favor for doing the outfit for her last magazine cover pro bono, so I asked for this as payment. It’s exactly what your outfit is missing.”

Just because Marinette didn’t like revealing clothing didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate someone else wearing one well, after all. And Selina wore her dress perfectly.

Selina quirked an eyebrow, eyeing the necklace with her expert gaze. Gently, she trailed her fingertips over the tops of the diamonds in the thick bands of the collar as a small smile flicked over her lips. She raised her eyes up to Marinette’s, light green eyes sparkling with mischief and knowing.

“You got this as a bribe for me, didn’t you kitten?”

Marinette smiled unashamedly. “I know you’re a proud lesbian, but would you mind playing the role of Bruce’s girlfriend, just for the media? And only while you’re single, of course. If you ever want out, you only have to say the word. Bruce already agreed, but he also doesn’t mind continuing to play the careless bachelor if you aren’t willing.”

Selina scoffed, rolling her eyes and grabbing the necklace. Effortlessly, she swung it around her neck and clasped it in place. “Please, darling. You and I both know it drives you up a wall when Brucie is hounded by gold diggers every time he steps foot out of that mansion of his. I’ll play the camera-girlfriend, but only for a maximum of a year. And you two can only call on me one a week at most, a girl’s gotta have some time to herself.”

Marinette nodded eagerly. “That’s fine! We probably won’t even call on you that much, Bruce is planning to play the ‘we want to keep our relationship pretty low-key’ card for now. Just an appearance once a month or two ought to satisfy those vampiric paparazzi.”

Selina just smiled. She had practically adopted Marinette years previous, during a trip to Paris where she had found out she apparently had a male doppelgänger. Now the two were sisters in all but official (Not-forged) legal documents. And because of that, Bruce had somehow become her brother.

Which Bruce later found out, meant that Selina would relentlessly tease him every time she needed to appear as his “girlfriend.”

Relentlessly.

But Marinette and Bruce had a Plan. She wasn’t quite ready to make a public appearance as his real girlfriend, mostly because of loose ends that still had to be tied back in France. She was making so many trips back and forth between the two countries that they couldn’t see each other in person much to begin with, so they also didn’t want their few in-person meetings tainted by greedy D-rate journalists.

But yes, they had a Plan. One year was the perfect time frame for the last stretch of said plan. Marinette would tie up the last few things she had to do in Paris, start an official branch of her fashion company in Gotham, and they would stage an entire break-up with Selina, a three-month “break” to “recover” and then a suitably dramatic, romantic “meet-cute” between the two of them to start what the media would see as a love-at-first-sight, fairytale relationship.

Nobody needed to know about Marinette and Bruce’s five-year pining session, or their one-year fumble through figuring out how to date one another before actually getting it right, or the most recent three-years of dealing with the fact that they were both highly experienced hero/vigilantes, the leaders of their own hero teams, and highly accomplished business people.

It was a hard relationship utterly riddled with drama, but they had finally reached the stable point where they were ready to commit. Sort of. They just needed Selina to fake-date Bruce in the public eye for a couple months, and then everything would be fine.

—*—*—*—*—*

One year and three months later.

Marinette shifted her purse on her shoulder. This would be her first time in over five years actually setting foot inside the Wayne Manor. She was excited to see Alfred again, and to hash out the last details for her and Bruce’s public “meet-cute.” But Alfred didn’t open the door this time, a short green-eyed boy with an all-too-familiar frown on his face did.

And once again, Marinette knew that Selina was not the mother. Her pseudo-sister was, as she had said so long ago, a very proud lesbian. But Marinette did know of a past fling of Bruce’s who did possess the proper genes to help create a child of this age.

Marinette smiled, pushing her inner rage at the thought of Talia Al Ghul out of her mind. She was still pissed beyond all rational thought when she heard about what Talia had done to Bruce. But this child was not at fault for any of it, only an innocent by-product.

“Hello. My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Would you mind telling Alfred I’m here?”

“Tt. Why should I?” The apparently bratty boy asked, crossing his arms and glaring straight at her. Marinette felt her eye twitch.

“I am a close friend of Bruce— Would I be correct in assuming he’s your biological father?” Immediately upon her question, the boy’s eyes widened ever so slightly in shock before his glare intensified. Marinette chuckled. “He didn’t tell me that he adopted any new children, and he always tells me when he adopts. Which means he didn’t have to adopt you, suggesting you are related to him directly. You can’t be a cousin or nephew, he has no living blood family. And all his pseudo-siblings are alive and fine, so you weren’t left to his care in anybody’s will,” she deduced out loud for him. “Plus, the green eyes and tan skin— I know of exactly one of Bruce’s past… suitors… who happens to fit the timeframe and features necessary.”

The boy raised an eyebrow. “Most assume that I am that harlot Selina Kyle’s spawn,” he snapped, but it lacked the same heat this time around. He was now analyzing her face closely, and Marinette noticed. She was careful to keep her eagerness toned down. She really just wanted to see Bruce and be able to hug and cuddle him for the first time in almost a year, and this child was her only obstacle at the moment. A very stubborn one.

Marinette sighed. “Selina is like a sibling to me, don’t call her a harlot. If Selina was ever pregnant, I would have known. Hell, Selina would have given me her baby to raise because she doesn’t have any interest in being a mother. Now, the polite thing to do when someone introduces themselves is so introduce yourself back. Not interrogate or intimidate them.”

The boy huffed, straightening his emerald turtleneck and rolling his shoulders back. “I am Damian Wayne,” he replied imperiously. “And Father has never mentioned a friend by the name Marinette. Which leads me to believe you are yet another no good hopeful suitor, and Father is still recovering after he and Kyle finally split up for good.”

Marinette froze, and slowly her eyes narrowed. “He never mentioned my name? Ever?”

“Tt. I already said no.”

Finally, the shape of Alfred Pennyworth came into view behind Damian. He had obviously heard the last bit of the conversation, because he just sighed and shared a long suffering look with Marinette. It was that look that made Marinette’s eye twitch a second time.

“Alfred,” she said slowly. “Has he mentioned me at all to any of his kids?”

“He has not,” Alfred replied. “And furthermore, Miss Selina would not stop giving him a hard time whenever he had to call her out for an appearance. It seems all of the children mistook their relationship for actually being of a romantic nature.”

Damian spun to the butler, eyes wide and swimming with a multitude of emotions. “What do you mean, ‘actually’, Alfred?”

“He means,” Marinette began before Alfred had the chance. Her eyes were narrowed, matching storms of dark, furious blue. “That Selina was only pretending to be Bruce’s girlfriend so that the press and gold-diggers would leave him alone. And apparently I need to beat some sense into my stupid, idiotic boyfriend, who I should have known would do something like this,” she looked up at Alfred, jaw clenching. “That man would never be able to pass for a functioning human without either you or me keeping his head screwed on. Where is he?”

“Not at the manor currently, Mademoiselle Marinette.”

“Alfred.”

The butler gave Marinette a rather mischievous little grin. “Master Bruce has forbade me from telling you where he is currently, he wanted you to stay at the manor and sleep the jet lag off until he got back. But I can tell you that he is not currently on Earth or on a mission.”

“Alfred!” Damian hissed, shocked that the man would say something so revealing. Alfred was the perfect secret keeper, why would he tell someone Bruce had never mentioned something so telling?”

“Oh, calm yourself Master Damian,” Alfred soothed. “Marinette has known about Master Bruce’s nighttime activities since before you were born. If anything, I believe he rightfully deserves the wake up call he is about to receive.”

Marinette nodded, eyes still stormy and determined. “Alright, so he’s at the Watchtower. The Zeta tunes are still in the Batcave, right?” When Alfred nodded, Marinette wasted no time. She easily slid around Damian and stormed into the manor, finding her way to the Batcave on pure muscle memory and rage.

“Wait, Alfred! I demand an explanation!” Damian’s loud voice slowly grew quieter as Marinette stormed down into the cave, ignoring how Alfred began to calmly explain the situation to the boy. She just slid right in to the Zeta tube, and commanded the computer to send her to the Watchtower.

“P-001, codename LADYBUG, recognized.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Batman pinched his nose from where he stood at the head of the meeting room in the watchtower. The briefing was supposed to start over an hour ago, but Hal Jordan had been twenty minutes late. No surprise there. But still, SuperMan had insisted that they wait until everyone arrived. And really, normally Batman would too. Except that his long time girlfriend was going to be landing in Gotham any minute now, and he would rather be back at the manor to greet her.

And the asinine argument that had been going on for the past forty minutes was finally going to end, even if Bruce had to hogtie every last one of his insufferable coworkers himself and force them through the rest of the meeting strapped to their chairs.

“Okay, can we PLEASE begin the meeting now, or so help me I will break out my kryptonite restraints,” he threatened darkly. He might have only mentioned Kryptonite, but everyone knew that that threat was actually aimed at all of them. Batman knew every last one of their weaknesses and was not above being petty when they strained his last nerve.

Quickly getting the hint, the entire room rushed to fill their seats and at least fake at paying attention. But of course, nothing goes quite right in the life of Bruce Wayne. Right as he turned on the slideshow he had prepared and began the meeting, the sound of an enraged woman’s voice echoed down the hallway in a deafening roar.

“BRUCE THOMAS WAYNE, YOU ARE IN SOOOO MUCH TROUBLE!”

Batman felt as if someone had just shoved him into a cryogenic freezer, a harsh shiver of dread running down his spine. There was exactly one person who could terrify him with a single word, and it just so happened to be the woman he was hiding a wedding ring from.

For the past eight years, but that’s neither here nor there.

“Oh shit,” Bruce breathed, but found he was unable to move from his spot. Yes, he wanted to see Marinette so badly that it hurt. But he also would like to stay alive.

SuperMan leaned forward, not really concerned since Batman would have reacted much differently had the voice been coming from a real threat. Instead, the man leveled his old friend with a very teasing smirk.

“Why is your heart suddenly racing?”

Bruce could only glare daggers at Clark before the door to the meeting room swung open, a tiny French woman standing there in a long, formal white-and-pink knee-length gown with a cheongsam neckline and one of her leaf-green heels held in each hand threateningly.

“You absolute idiot! When I said I wanted to keep our relationship out of the public eye, I didn’t mean to keep me a secret from EVERYBODY!”

“But darling—“ Bruce cut himself off as he was forced to dodge one deadly-accurate piece of flying footwear. “You don’t understand. The boys cannot keep a secret to save their life.”

“They have secret identities, don’t they?” She slipped her other shoe back on. She had known that her shoe never had a chance of hitting, and with Bruce in full Batman gear, even if it had hit him the high heel would have felt like she had only thrown a pillow. Had it been otherwise, she wouldn’t have even joked about throwing her shoes at him. But as it stood, she knew none of the normal things she had on her would be able to so much as make Bruce say “ow.”

Marinette placed both of her fists on her hips, marching up to Batman and pulling him down the full foot it took for him to be able to look her in the eye. His resulting gulp was clearly audible, and visible, to everyone else in the room. “You absolute, emotionally dense moron,” her voice had dropped from a yell to a mildly fond, but still very annoyed, grumble. “Your kids are mostly adults now, you know. And you never told me about Damian either. Did you honestly think I’d be mad?” Bruce looked away from her, which was honestly all the answer she needed. Marinette sighed, letting him go and softening her voice. “You need to trust your kids more, Bruce. I never wanted you to keep me a secret from your family, or even your close friends. Just the annoying ass paparazzi. And trust me a little bit more, yeah? I know it isn’t exactly your strong suit, but I’ve known you long enough that you should know I’m not gonna run for the hills just because you have a biological kid that wasn’t with me.” Marinette risked giving him a slightly vulnerable, lopsided smile. And Bruce immediately deciphered what it meant. His shoulders slumped.

The cost of using the Ladybug Miraculous for so long was that Marinette had to give up her fertility. She could never have children of her own, and Bruce had felt guilty that he had had a biological child, even though he hadn’t exactly consented to it, without her. But now he could see where he went wrong.

Marinette was just happy to have another piece of him to take care of. She never would have resented him for what had happened with Talia. And, seeing all of those facts written on her face now, he felt more than a little blind.

“... sorry.”

Marinette just huffed out a short, soft laugh before grabbing Bruce by the bicep. She turned to look at the other heroes still in the room, half of them uncomfortable with seeing such an emotional display while the others looked like they were incredibly invested in a good soap opera. She shot them a grin.

“I’m stealing him for the next few days, okay? Don’t worry, I’m sure you can make do with making Diana read the slideshow. I know from experience that it has everything you guys need to know and more. Don’t call us, I’ll field all your contact to Agent A!!” With that, she dragged Bruce by the arm out of the room.

To be fair, he wasn’t exactly resisting. Even if the reunion was far from ideal, just having this little bit of contact was extremely relaxing for the vigilante. When they reached the Zeta Tubes, he stopped Marinette and pulled her in for a kiss.

When they inevitably pulled away for breath, he smiled at her. “As soon as we get back, I’ll call everyone in and explain the situation,” he promised. “And then, we can spend the rest of the night doing whatever you want.”

Marinette smiled back, shoving him into the Zeta Tube. “Then get ready, because I wanna sleep off this damn jet lag and I plan on cuddling you like a koala the whole time. No escape.”

“B-001, Codename BATMAN. Recognized.”

“Can’t wait,” he replied right before he was whisked off. The sound of the love of his life laughing followed him through until he reached the other end of the teleportation.

—*—*—*—*—*

@maribat-writing-and-prompts

[avaritia-apotheosis]

Phantom Children Ch. 6

Hi guys! I'm back <3 (also, I'm currently looking for alpha/beta readers for Phantom Children, so if you're interested, feel free to shoot me a message!)

In Which: Danny Attempts to get Answers, Bruce Learns, and Dick Finally Learns What's Inside the Door that Doesn't Exist

AO3 | Prologue | 5 | [ 6 ] | 7

DANNY IS KNOCKED DOWN three, four, eight times on the ice. Each time made his back ache, his bones bruised and tired, and his mind burning with embarrassment and a drive to lash out. But each time he gets back up. Each time he lasts a little bit longer against Talia.

The ice still shifts, cracks and rumbles with every wrong move. Danny learned to roll with it. Move on light feet but attack with a firm stance, gauge which parts of the ice are stable and which should be avoided. Multi-tasking has never been Danny’s strong suit, but he’s good at learning and learning quickly.

Talia corrected his form as much as she beat him down. Exploited every one of his openings until he learned to defend them and praised him whenever he managed to pull one over her. The League’s martial arts was the holy amalgamation between almost every single fighting style there is, mashed and refined to perfection to become almost unpredictable to the untrained. A vast improvement to Danny’s previous ‘fuck around and see what works’ brawling and had the added benefit of meshing together with his spontaneity.

“You are doing well, Daniel,” Talia said as she sheathed her sword, hand resting just above her hip. “You have improved greatly in such a short time, as I have expected.”

It takes every ounce of Danny’s superhuman energy to not collapse to his knees, his every breath a ragged shudder as he tries to get his breathing under control. “Still can’t beat you, though.”

“Very few can boast that feat.”

“I’m not exactly sure if that’s supposed to make me feel any better or not. Do I get my prize at least?”

Tahlia tossed her braid over one shoulder with a laugh. “Come, then, let us rest in the caves. The sun is to set soon and we must make camp before we freeze to death.”

“Hypothermia is so last season. I’m way too cool for that.”

He didn’t know whether to be disappointed that Tahlia didn’t react to his pun. It was pretty clever, in his opinion.

('Puns are the lowest form of comedy,' said mind-Jazz.

Says the one who named the Box Ghost the ‘Crate Creep.’

'That’s alliteration, not a pun.')

It was kind of pathetic that even his mind-version of Jazz was smarter than him.

“What would you like to know first?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sarcasm dripped from Danny’s voice. He sheathed his sword and let it hang loose at his side. “Maybe how old this mysterious brother of mine is?” Ancients, his life was weird enough already, it wasn’t supposed to sound like the B-plot to a bad soap opera.

“Damian is younger than you by a little over four years. He will turn eleven this year.”

“Huh. Never been an older brother before.”

“Perhaps you might have been, if circumstances had been different.”

Cryptic. Great. Danny stepped over a particularly large crack in the ice and scampered over to solid ground. “You gotta give me more than that. What’s he like?”

“Prideful,” she said. “But skilled enough to warrant it. He was raised like a prince—as how you should have been.”

“And he lives with…our dad?”

“Yes. In America.” The cave was deep enough to shield them from the worst of the eventual mountain winds. Tahlia had already started building a campfire with equipment from her knapsack, embers eating away and growing into a steady flame. He sat down, legs crossed, beside the fire, hands tucked beneath his armpits.

He bit his lip, a question forming in his mind. “Do…do we have the same dad?”

Tahlia looked up at him. “Of course. Only your father has had the privilege of being called my beloved, and only he is worthy enough to have sired my children.”

Once night fell, it fell quickly. Blanketing as far as Danny could see from the mouth of the cave in a thick darkness. Snow fell from the skies in thick tufts and covered their footsteps.

“Does he—do they know about me?”

“No, they do not.”

“And you probably aren’t going to tell them anything about me, if you could help it.”

“That is very perceptive of you, habeebi.”

“You won’t tell me anything more about them, will you?”

“In due time, I will.”

Danny blew part of his fringe away from his face. Figures.

Despite the ever-present niggling at the back of his mind, Bruce had yet to see what was in the flash drive. The weeks since his strange meeting with Vlad Masters suddenly exploded with criminal activity with the recent breakout in Arkham and the brewings of another gang war in the shadows of Gotham’s paved streets. It was all hands-on deck. And Bruce, whether as Batman or Wayne, had always prioritized Gotham and its citizens over anything else.

The flash drive remained on his person despite the crisis, tucked away in one of the sturdier compartments of his utility belt to prevent the data inside from becoming damaged. Sometimes he found his hands gravitating towards it, fingers brushing against the button that would release the mystery from its confines before he realized what he was doing and steeled himself. Hands fisted to his side and attention forcibly directed elsewhere.

Eventually, the rogues were placed back into Arkham, and Gotham let out a shuddered breath of relief as it remained standing for another day.

Most of the family were out on a light patrol, cleaning up the remains of the breakout and helping where they can. Jason and Dick bickering over the comms whilst Barbara laughed in her clocktower.

(“It’s not that bad.”

"‘It’s not that bad’—shut the fuck up.” Jason spat. Bruce could hear him revving his bike. “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that? Certified Grade A idiot. B’s gonna kill you.”

He could hear Dick roll his eyes. “Sure, pile it all on, Jaybird. Blame the victim.”

"It was your fault.”

“It’s not my fault I didn’t see it there!”

"You tripped and got a concussion. From a stick. A. Stick.”

“Can we please just leave that out of the report?” Dick groaned. Barbara laughed. “Oh god.”

“Richard motherfucking John Grayson. I swear if you vomit on me then—”

“I’m not gonna vomit on you! You just turned the corner a little too fast. It’s nice to see you care though.”

"Fuck no, I just don’t wanna smell like regurgitated cereal.”)

Damian was benched from a patrol. Their last conflict with Poison Ivy ended with Damian sticking a bad landing and twisting his ankle. He dealt with it with as much grace as can be expected. Meaning that he spent the last few days sulking as he caught up on his missed schoolwork and shooting daggers at everyone else who came back from patrol.

Bruce flicked the flash drive open and plugged it into the computer. The flash drive contained only a single folder dated six months ago.

He clicked it, and a news headline popped up.

LOCAL TEEN DIES AFTER DRIVING OFF CLIFF

Beneath it, a picture. Blue eyes. Black hair. A familiar face.

Blood pounded in Bruce’s ears. He could hear nothing except a sharp gasp from Damian behind him.

When Dick and Jason arrived at the batcave, it was to an eerie silence. Not that it was usually loud, only that Bruce spent most of his free time down in the cave and Dick had come to expect hearing some signs of him around. Typing on keys, the clicking of a mouse, the heavy thuds of a fist meeting a punching bag or a training dummy, etcetera, etcetera. Or maybe even Alfred cleaning up around the cave, feeding the bats, or restocking their med bay.

(Dick, it turned out, didn’t have a concussion. Probably. Not a severe one anyway. What mattered most was that he managed to convince Jason to have dinner at the Manor. Alfred was making a tarte tatin for dessert tonight and those were absolutely to die for. )

One of Tim’s cases took him to the other side of Gotham. The only person in the cave was Damian, who was staring agape at the batcomputer.

“Why the hell is the demon spawn looking at old pictures of Bruce? We get it. They look alike.

“Uh, Dami? What’s up?”

Damian snapped his mouth shut. “I believe it might be best if you asked father that, Grayson.” Despite his clipped tone, there seemed to be little anger in his voice. His proud shoulders were hunched over on the chair, eyes trained on his lap.

He looked so small.

Damian clucked his tongue. “He’s upstairs, if you need him. So is Pennyworth.”

Dick shot a glance at Jason who raised his hands in mock surrender. “You’re up golden boy. Whatever the fuck the old man’s problem is this time, I’m not dealing with it.”

Dick sighed. “Fine.”

There was a door in Wayne Manor that didn’t exist.

When Dick was a child and recently adopted by Bruce Wayne, one of the first things he did was explore the manor. It’s the prerogative of every child that somehow found themselves in a large mansion—even more so given the castle-like exteriors of Wayne Manor. All castles have secret passages, and if the Batcave lay in the subterranean depths below, then surely the manor proper must have its own secrets.

Dick would tumble and cartwheel along the hallways, opening any and every single door he came across. A lot of them were just empty bedrooms or unused parlors and sitting rooms; the furniture covered by white sheets to keep the dust away. Alfred was probably magic, but even he can’t keep the entirety of the manor dust free.

The majority of the unused rooms were unlocked.

Except for one.

It was a room in the west wing, on the second floor. A couple doors down from where Bruce’s and Dick’s were. Why it was locked, Dick never found out. But he was curious since it was the only room on that floor that remained shut.

When he asked Alfred about it, the old butler only said that it was an unused storage room they preferred to keep locked just in case. When he asked Bruce about it, he’d be quick to change the subject. Usually something Batman related. Which, well, always worked, because it was Batman related. And Dick, young and spry and itching to fly under Batman’s wings, would quickly forget about that curious little mystery in favor of punching bad guys in the face and flipping over rooftops.

At some point that locked door quietly disappeared, leaving a blank expanse of wallpaper and a decorative vase where it once stood. It was never brought up again. And Dick slowly forgot that it was ever there in the first place.

Until now.

The wooden table and vase were shoved off to the side. Wallpaper sliced away to reveal the lines of a doorway. The door, covered in its faint damask wallpaper, was kicked open, the wood around the bolt splintered and cracked. He could hear voices—Alfred’s and Bruce’s—speaking softly on the other side.

He pressed his back against the wall and kept his breathing quiet.

“Three times, Alfred.” Bruce’s voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Three times she’s done this to me.”

“Master Bruce…”

“I don’t—I don’t understand why—” Bruce choked, swallowing a shuddered breath. “Damian, I can understand. Jason, I can too. But…This? I—” Bruce suddenly quieted. Dick knew the jig was up.

He unlatched himself from the wall and slowly slid through the once-hidden-door, a hand kept on the frame. “Um. Hi, Bruce? Alfred?” The words fell flat, stilted. Dick winced as he said them. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but, uh…” He trailed off the second he registered what was in the room.

It was large, as so many rooms in the manor were. The room was covered in peeling green wallpaper with faded pictures of baby deer and owls and other woodland creatures prancing about. There was a dresser on one wall. A shelf filled with little picture books and stuffed animals on the other. A brown teddy bear had fallen on its face on one of the shelves.

In the middle—where Bruce was hunched over—was a crib. The wood streaked and aged with time, the beddings within pristine and untouched, if not dusty. Hanging overhead was a mobile with little animals dangling on a string.

“Worry not Master Dick. It is good that you are here since it will inevitably involve the rest of the family at some point.”

Dick nodded absentmindedly, trying to lock eyes with his guardian. “B? What’s—what’s going on?” Dick took one step deeper into the room. “The pictures in the cave. I thought they were you since they were too old to be Damian—” Bruce’s hands on the crib’s railing flinched.

Dick’s breath hitched.

“They’re…not your photos, are they.”

Bruce took a deep breath in, the lines of his shoulders tense. “No. They’re not.”

In their line of work, the answer could have been anything. Clones, magical doppelgangers, alternate universe counterparts, hell, even just someone’s genetic code being coincidentally similar to another person. But…this room, this nursery, pointed towards only one conclusion.

“Who is he, Bruce?”

Bruce angled his head towards Dick, unshed tears glimmering in his eyes. “He’s my son, Dick.

“He’s my son.”

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Their Doll 4

Y/n Stark

B.Barnes x Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis:  y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter Summary: the avengers find some stuff out about y/n

Warnings: swearing

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

"SO there's some weird HYDRA girl locked and sedated in my basement? Cool, don't want to know." Tony dismissed, not looking up from his white mug as he tipped a generous amping of sugar into his black coffee. He swirled the liquid in the mug and turned around, leaning against the counter as he raised the drink to lips lips and took a sip before sighing intently. Bruce frowned, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Tony, I don't think you get it, I ran a DNA test and-"

"And she's probably some innocent girl that went missing years ago and was never found? I get it, I feel bad for her but at the end of the day she has nothing to do with me." Tony dismissed, pushing away from the counted to deposit his now-empty mug in the sink. He turned the tap on, rinsing out the cup before carelessly placing it on the drying rack.

"Just, please, come and see her. You won't regret it, and if you do - dinner's on me?" Bruce suggest, arms outstretched in welcome. Tony rolled his eyes, before scoffing.

"Yeah, no. I'm good. Catch you in the lab later though?" Tony was quick to deflect, exiting the room with so much as another glance. Bruce's hands feel to his side with a slap as his shoulders sagged in defeat.

...

Bruce nervously paced the lab, desperate to tell someone his horrifying discovery. The click of the door made his head snap up, a smile of relief spreading his on lips at the sight of Nat.

"Nat, finally." He sighed, walking towards the scowling girl.

"What did you need to tell me Bruce? You sounded pretty urgent when you called." She pressed, crossing her arms over her chest and raising a brow. His smile faulted, his gaze dropping to his hands where he fondled with a biro pen.

"I- uh. I made a... discovery about y/n." Bruce confessed, finally meeting Nat's eyes.

"Go on.." Nat prompted. Bruce took a deep breath, chewing on his bottom lip nervously. "Bruce-" she started.

"Y/n isn't entirely human-"

"Well we knew that much."

"It's what she is, that's shocking. Looking threw all her blood tests and whatnot - it's showing she has an ability to manipulate minds when she s-sings. It's like a certain note her voice forms that can control the minds of people around her."

"So what is she?"

"I don't know, there's not really a name-"

"A siren. She's a siren." A third voice joined the room, and both the avengers' heads snapped round to the direction it came from. In the door stood Steve, shoulder leant against the frame and ankles crossed.

"Who's watching y/n?" Nat asked.

"Clint. Anyway, my father - he used to read me a story when I was a kid. The Odyssey, I believe it was called. It was a Greek myth about a bewitching girl who lured saloons in with her voice so she could feed off them." Steve continued, pushing himself off the door frame and walking further into the room.

"There's no way that's real, though." Nat dismissed, frowning heavily at his words.

"No, no. He has a point - I mean, look at Steve. Look at me." Bruce said, gesturing to himself and Steve. "We shouldn't be possible, but science does some crazy things. Y/n was with HYDRA, right?"

"Yes, but-"

"Well, what if they did this to her. We know she was taken when she was young, so what if they did so to experiment on her?"

"I should go talk to her, you know - girl on girl. She seems to like me, maybe she knows what she is and she might open up to me, if I ask nicely." Nat suggests, walking out the room when she was met with no protests from the two men.

"There's something else I should mention." Bruce started fidgeting again, which man Steve's brown knit together.

"What is it, Bruce?" The super-soldier prompted. Bruce continued to fidget, not looking up from him hands as he spoke.

"Are you aware Tony used to have daughter?" Bruce asked sheepishly.

"Tony had a daughter?" Steve said, brows now raised with genuine shock. He knew of Tony's...escapades from before he was with Pepper, but he couldn't see Tony as the type to actually keep a child from just a one-night stand.

"She was adopted, some kid he found on the streets with no parents. So he took her in, raised her and then she just disappeared. Many people have forgotten she existed, and those that remember her are all under the impression that she is dead. I thought so too, until..." Bruce paused, flipping through some papers on his clipboard until he found what he was looking for. "Until this." He finished, handing the board over to Steve.

In Steve's hands was proof that matched y/n's DNA to that of Tony's adopted daughter.

"Well that explains the name, and her hesitation to tell us who she really is." Steve frowned, eyes scanning over the paper repeatedly. Bruce hummed in agreement, taking the clipboard back from Steve when he held it out for Bruce to take. "Do we tell Tony?" Steve asked after a moment.

"He doesn't want to know, I've tried telling him but he doesn't care." Bruce told Steve and Steve pressed his lips together as he thought. "I do think we should wake her up though. If she's Tony's daughter there can't be anything that's more dangerous about her than you expect her attitude." Bruce said and Steve nodded, suppressing a laugh.

"I'll tell Nat to wake her up." Steve said as he exited the lab.

...

The steam from the shower engulfed me, my hands running through my hair and brushing out the tangles lightly. As I scrubbed the shampoo from my scalp, I hummed a small tune - thankful to be somewhere noisy enough that I wouldn't risk affecting anyone with my powers. After waking me up Nat told me to clean up and get changed before handing me a pile of clothes and telling me that she would meet me at my room in half an hour to take me to meet the rest of the team.

Shutting the water off, I slid the glass door open and my feet padded onto the thin bath-mat. The towel wrapped around me as I patted my hair dry with another one, looking over my scarred figure in the large mirror opposite me.

A large scar spanned the width of my stomach, smaller remnants of cuts littering my thighs that were joined by one larger one from where I was once stabbed. Looking at myself over my shoulder, I observed the large scars that spanned over my back, the layers fading at different degrees from their varying ages. The memory of how I got them brought tears to my eyes, which I was quick to blink away and focus back onto what I was doing.

Pulling the large sweatshirt Steve had lent me over my head, I left the large bathroom clad in a pair of leggings and some socks I borrowed from Nat. I brushed my fingers through my wet locks, detangling them. I threw the towel onto the bed in the room I had been assigned and plopped down next to it, taking my time to survey the room I barely got a look of earlier.

The door to the en-suite bathroom I just exited sat on one side of the room, accompanied by a big closet and a dressing table. A chest of draws was propped next to the king sized bed the sat in and the free corner housed a small kitchen. It had a stove, fridge-freezer, sink and a few cabinets. On the side sat a kettle, toaster, blender and some chopping boards.

A sharp knock on the door bought me back to my senses, making me perk up a little at the sound of Nat's voice.

"You feeling okay?" I nodded. "Good, well Steve and Bruce want you to meet them in conference room 4. I'll take you." She quickly added the last part in seeing my scared face.

As we walked down the halls we chatted, talking about our pasts and finding out that we were fairly similar - we were both forced into the bad things we did, we both found a way to redeem ourselves, neither of us have ever had a boyfriend and we both love chicken noodle soup.

"Well, this is it." She announced, pointing at a door to our left. I nodded, going to open the door before pausing and turning around.

"Thank you. For taking me with you, for giving me this chance, for hiding me from HYDRA - thank you, really." I spoke softly, giving her the friendliest smile I could muster.

"No problem. I couldn't live with myself if I knew we could've helped you. Everyone deserves a second chance."

"I genuinely can't thank you enough - you saved me." I said, quickly swiping away the threatening tears with the heels of my hands.

"I was nice meeting you, y/n."

"You too." And with the last words said, I pushed the door open, walking into the room and being instantly greeted by Bruce and Steve.

"Hey, y/n, why don't you take a seat and we'll get the introductions out the way?" Bruce suggested and I nodded shyly. I took a seat next to Steve, who appeared to shuffle slightly away from me but I couldn't be sure.

"So, another midgardian?" a bulky man with shoulder length blonde hair and a red cape clipped to his shoulders broke the silence. He was clearly the God I'd been hearing about - I mean how much more of a costume does he need to look like Thor?

"Yes, we think so." Bruce confirmed. I frowned at this. Midgardian? What the hell was a midgardian?

"We think she's been tampered with, like me," Steve elaborated, "but as far as we know, she is of this earth." Steve spoke and Thor nodded. "We are keeping her safe from HYDRA." Steve said to break the silence as they all stared at me with funny looks. I kept my eyes cast down now, cheeks hot with embarrassment after feeling so many eyes on me at once.

"Does she-" I interjected the second I heard another voice. I stood abruptly, pushing me seat back and wincing at the screeching noise it made before resuming my angry face. I slammed my hand down the table as I stood, catching the attention of everyone sat at the table.

"If even one more of you refers to me as 'she' rather than just fucking talking directly to me I am going to end up sirening one of your asses!" I demanded, seething with anger. A grin broke out on Thor's face.

"Atta girl, I like this one already!" He laughed and I sat down again, smiling contented ay his compliment.

"She's got Tony's patience, all right." Another man remarked with a smirk. Steve simply rolled his eyes as common menus about my attitude were thrown around the room. Finally, someone addressed me. It was a woman with Blonde hair and kind eyes. She looked motherly.

"Hey, I'm pepper." She smiled kindly and I quickly reciprocated it. They went around the table - the man who had commented about my patience was called Clint, the blonde man was was indeed called Thor and obviously I'd already met Bruce and Steve.

"I'm y/n." I returned and she repeated my name in her beautiful voice, almost as if she was testing how I'd felt in her mouth.

"Y/n. A stunning name for a stunning lady." Thor commented, boyish grin still in place and I gave him a sheepish smile.

"Oh, cut it out big guy - you're like, a billion times her age." A voice came from the door and we all turned to find out who it was.

"Tony. I wasn't aware you'd be joining us." Steve said in a monotone voice and Tony gave him a tight smile.

"You don't get everything your way, Capsicle. Now, who's this?" Tony said, stuffing a mouthful of blueberries in his mouth before stuffing the bag of food in his back pocket and motioning to me with a nod.

"Tony, this is y/n," Bruce said moving out the way from where he was standing so Tony could see my face. The man's eyes widened instantly as the recognition sank in. "Y/n Stark."

[mariegreythepoet]

Eighth Sister

Part 1: The Girl With the Fire Token

Chapter 1: In Which a Crazy Girl Fights a Mage

“Adjust, Elle!”

“Now?”

“Better.”

“Good,” Elibeth Everton kept her eyes closed, resisting the urge to laugh. Ben was too much of a perfectionist for his own good. In fact, he was sometimes so perfect that Elle resented him for it. She’d never say something like that to his face though. Not here at least, where other Guild mages could eavesdrop.

“Careful,” Ben chided, touching the edge of her arm, “I could topple you in two seconds. A stance like this will never last against the Seventh Sister.”

Elle rolled her eyes, “Yeah right, the Seventh Sister.”

“I’m serious, Elibeth.”

“Serious as a clown.”

“The Seventh Sister is real…”

“Sure she is,” Elle relaxed, lowering her practice sword and stepping out of her ready position. She’d never once believed the stories about the Seventh Sister. They were all too wild, too crazy.

A girl who can call shadows to her hands. A monster who can topple empires. A demon who has come to claim her power.

Each story was more ridiculous than the last.

Ben stepped in front of her, unwilling to give in yet, “But Elle, what if she’s the one who took your father?”

“What interest would she have in my father? Besides, he disappeared months ago,” Elle twirled a small piece of hair around in her fingers.

It was true. Her father had left two months ago on a business trip to the Florin Empire and had never returned. Elle still didn’t know why. Was he done with her? Had he decided to just leave her by herself - alone? Elle supposed it would make the most sense.

After all, she’d been adopted as a young child from a difficult home. Maybe all that time she’d been a burden on him, a burden that eventually grew too large to handle. That was not the Seventh Sister’s fault.

“Elle…”

“My life isn’t your concern anyway, Ben.”  Elle said.

She marched around him and moved towards the door, drawing glances from other trainees around her. Joining this dumb Guild was a mistake.

The large, oak wood doors opened easily for Elle, allowing her to walk through. On her way out, she left her training sword near the entrance.

“Elle, wait, I’m…”

“I decided I’m done for the day,” Elle muttered. And then she slammed the door behind her.

~~~

Elle leaned back on the small park bench. Her short, silvery white hair fell down into her face as she examined the bright blue sky above her. Only a few more days. Then she could leave this skies-forsaken kingdom and move to Elemen - a beautiful place with no bad memories and no fake rumors. Elemen was the place to be. The place for her to be.

She smiled.

And just like that the moment was gone, broken by a small flash of color that flew over Elle’s vision, distracting her. She let out a low sigh. First Ben and now this. She sat up. Her eyes wandered to where the colorful thing had gone.

A tall girl was standing a few yards away, her arms crossed defiantly. By her feet, a small cat with a blue collar was sniffing the grass. The cat must have been what Elle saw.

“I am not a liar! In fact, I am offended that you’d even say such a horrible thing! My name is Violet and I know the Seventh Sister!” the girl screeched.

Elle rolled her eyes again. This one was worse than Ben.

“Seventh Sister…”

“She’s horrid. I can’t stand her, honestly,” the strange girl waved her hand in the air, as if in an act of dismissal.

Elle scoffed. This girl had no idea what she was doing. She’d probably end up getting herself killed.

“You know nothing, little girl,” a tall man growled. His face was contorted into a look of anger. Apparently he couldn’t handle the strange girl’s cockiness. Whatever. Elle turned away, making up her mind not to care. Instead, she focused on a tall fountain near the middle of the park.

But then the girl spoke again.

“All I want is the man called Philip Everton.”

“Everton? And you say you have information on the…”

“Who are you?” Elle stood up, an angered expression on her face. She stepped in between the man and the strange girl.

The strange girl locked eyes with Elle. It was only at this moment that Elle noticed the girl’s left arm. The arm hung limply at her side, unmoving, immobile. Almost as if it wasn’t real at all. Elle shuddered and the girl noticed her look.

“My name is Violet. Who are you?”

“Elibeth Everton.”

“She’s all yours, Elle. Good luck,” the tall man glared at Violet in disgust. Then he walked away. Almost as if nothing had happened at all.

“What did you say about my father?” Elle’s voice was a hoarse whisper.

Violet blinked. Then she smiled, “I see I’ve found a…”

“My  father, idiot. What do you want with him?”

“I want nothing to do with him. Selene is the one who…”

“Selene?”

“Selene Corlan! My sister! Ah!” Violet yelped as Elle shoved her up against a tree. Their small green space in the park was empty by now, having been completely vacated after Violet’s fight with the tall man.

Violet stared up at Elle, a mix of fear and determination in her blue gaze.

Elle said, “Selene Corlan is currently fighting a war against the Florin Empire. Selene Corlan is a powerful mage under Lord Draven. And you’re saying she’s your sister?”

“Yes,” Violet whispered. Tears glistened in her eyes, “She’s a force of nature. And she’s the Seventh Sister.”

“There is no Seventh Sister.”

“But I know there is! She came with me from the past,” Violet said urgently, “If you are truly Philip Everton’s child, then you must come with me! I know where he is.”

“You’re too trusting,” Elle retorted.

Violet frowned. Her gaze leapt to her bad arm, “I know and I’ve paid for it in full. I’m sorry.”

Violet grabbed a tree branch and began to turn it around and around in her hands - a nervous tick most likely. Whatever. Elle chose to ignore it. She slowly let go of Violet and the girl dropped to the ground. Elle turned around and began to walk back down the sidewalk. This conversation had gotten her nowhere.

“You don’t know what she was like, Selene,” Violet whispered from behind Elle.

Elle stopped in her tracks. Selene. Not the Seventh Sister. Information about Selene Corlan, regardless of any Seventh Sister connection, was hard to come by.

“Was she ever kind?” Elle didn’t know why she bothered to ask.

“No, she was a monster! She was always a monster, but she was a monster with a sweet face, perfect demeanor, and powerful magic. She was hard to dislike. A true Golden child,” the twig Violet had been holding snapped in her good hand.

Elle flinched. That was unexpected.

“That’s why I need your help, Elibeth Everton. We must save your father because he is the only one who ever stood up to Selene.”

“You mean…”

“He came with us!” Violet said urgently, “He was our escort into the new world. And I know where he might be.”

“He came from no other world! You’re crazy! You’re insane,” Elle screamed.

“Yes he did, Lady Elibeth. He came from the past alongside me, Lilly, and Selene. He came to help change the course of the future!”

“Do you even hear yourself?”

“Shut up and listen to me!” Violet yelled, matching Elle’s fury with her own, “Shut up and listen to someone else for once in your damn life!”

“I don’t want to have to fight you,” Elle held up her hands, “I see now that I want nothing to do with you. Leave me be and I’ll be on my way.”

“But I see now that I want you,” Violet responded.

Elle glanced up just in time to see Violet throw something at her feet. She yelped, jumping back, only for a fog of blue-grey smoke to billow up around her. She cursed under her breath. From behind her, she heard a stick break.

“I’m going to kill Selene Corlan. And I need your help,” Violet whispered, right before she slammed a jolt of power into Elle, knocking the girl into unconsciousness.

Now, finally, she could begin.

Elle Everton (Picrew)

To whoever stuck with me through all that: thank you! I promise next chapter will be more exciting!

Tag List: @thespianlesbian100 :)

[conaionaru]

The drowned girl

Little Menace

Synopsis: What if Siggy never died and was raised by loving parents that cared for her and taught her the way of the Gods? What if the little Völva was raised by Floki and Helga (because fuck Bjorn!)

Warnings: canon divergence (duh), violence, past child neglect, child abandonment, bad parenting

I don’t own the gifs.

Bjorn looked at Floki and Helga, waiting for the good news to be said. If the boatbuilder kept his promise and built him the means to leave, Bjorn Ironside could sail to an unknown land and discover what no one had dreamt of.

"What do you say, Helga? What shall we tell him?" Floki mocked his tone, teasing, trying to drag the pretense on.

Bjorn looked at the kind blonde. "We think that it won't be long until you have boats ready and able to take you to the Mediterranean Sea!"

The Ragnarsson lit up at the information until Floki scoffed at the Viking's excitement. "If it exists."

"Of course, it exists!"

"It's just a map, Bjorn. Marks on a paper. A child could have drawn it." Floki cut him off, causing the younger boy to frown. "How can we know if it's real?"

"I learned from my father. The only way to tell if something is real..." He laid a small boat on in the water and pushed it away from the shore. "Is to sail there. I hope you'll come with me, Floki."

"Are you joking? The lure of an imaginary land. Traveling somewhere that doesn't exist?" Floki laughed in his mad way and grinned happily. "Of course, I am coming."

"And I hope you will come too, Helga." The blonde healer smiled at them, amused.

"Well, if Floki is mad enough to go, then I guess I will follow."

Bjorn cheered up at the answer, happy to know that his father's friends would be there to see him achieve his dream. What bothered him, though, was the silence. Something was off. "Where is she?" The tall Ragnarsson looked around them and up the trees, looking for a familiar face or shape. But he saw nothing.

"Went to collect some herbs a while ago," Helga explained, frowning at the relieved sigh the boy let out in return.

A girl in a long scarf sat by the shore, the dark teal fabric hiding her hair from the gentle breeze that swept by. Her bare feet were burrowed in the sand, while her hands held the scarf in a death grip.

The waves mercilessly hit the shore, washing away any imperfections from the sand. But the girl sat there, unmoving. If it wasn't for the rise and fall of her chest, she might have seemed dead. Her lips are in a thin line, a vertical stripe drawn down her chin, with another symbol between her eyes, strands of blonde hair sway in the wind around her face.

But the most shocking feature of this girl are her kohl-lined eyes, as white as milk, unblinking and unseeing. She appears to be in a trance, the world passing by her as she sits there—the calm before the storm.

Despite her ears being deaf to the world, she still heard voices, painful screams, and the hissing of snakes sounded in her head. She saw a snake curled around an arrow, drowning in a river of blood. She could feel the red liquid against her bare feet, wetting her dress.

A raven croaked over her head, drawing her from her state. With the blink of an eye, her white pupils changed to blue, the same shade as the waters before her. She looked up at the position of the sun and sighed in annoyance. With some difficulty, she rose to her feet with a bunch of flowers in one of her hands.

The blonde girl walked up a hill, pulling down the scarf from her head, her wild hair flying behind her in a fury. She sat upon the mountain, putting a bouquet of wildflowers on a small grave, pulling the weeds out, and tossing it away.

The painted girl patted the child's grave, lovingly, and sighed. "I would sing to you, but you have suffered enough, no? I am sailing away soon to Bjorn's imaginary sea. Don't miss me too much."

She left the hill, passing by some playing children and fishers who run around in excitement or got ready to work. She ignored the noise around her, striding towards her goal—the forge. The people around her gossiped with each other, the name of Ragnar Lothbrok falling from their lips. Apparently, the king returned to Kattegat after years of absence; she could care less.

An older woman glared at the young blonde, pulling her child behind her as if to protect it from a rabid animal. "Freak." She spat under her breath, glaring at the unbothered teen.

People avoided her like the plague as if she was no better than the thralls and cattle. Goats were more loved than her around the town. But she didn't care for their feelings, or them for the matter.

"Sigurd." She greeted the man who stood out the forge strumming his oud, humming a cheerful tune with a scowl on his face, trying to distract himself from his thoughts.

"Siggy." The Ragnarsson nodded at her, the lines on his forehead relaxing as he looked the blonde over. She carried herself in the usual swagger, her feet bare and eyes crazy. "Did you hear what happened?"

She snorted and plopped down next to him, taking the oud out of his hands and plucking at the strings with no talent or intention to play. It annoyed him when she used his things, so of course, she did it as often as possible. "Ragnar's back. I heard people curse his name. But do tell what he did."

Sigurd spat on the ground and glared at the dirt, making her stop messing around and look at him in question. "The settlement in Wessex was destroyed right after he left, which he knew of but did nothing! And now he came back, not to reunite with his family or apologize to his people. He wants to sail to England instead."

Siggy giggled at the explanation and jumped up, twirling around the support beam before dropping the music instrument in his lap and continuing her twirls. "He wants revenge like everyone does. People died because of him in every fight, so why are you angry that he wants people to die again? Tis nothing new, Sigurd."

He shook his head angrily before dismissing the issue and talking to her about more pleasant things. "I caught a fox. Do you want the pelt?"

Siggy shook her head, snagging an apple from a merchant's cart and then another one from another food stand. "Keep your lame pelts. I told you I want a bearskin!"

The Ragnarsson rolled his eyes at her and strummed his instrument as his niece stole another apple and juggled them cheerily, ignoring his stern look. "You shouldn't steal, Siggy! You have money!"

"You are the rich one, not me. And I am hungry." She snorted, catching the apple in her mouth midair, wiggling her thin eyebrows at him in a mocking manner.

It felt nice to be around each other without the pressure of Sigurd's bloodline around them. People avoided him when he was around Siggy, the girl too wild and violent for anyone to spend time with her. All but Sigurd were cautious about their words around her.

The Viking with the serpent in his eye was not afraid of her at all. In his eyes, she was the same as when they were children, his lonely friend. Siggy used to be too scared to leave the Great Hall, dirty and neglected by everybody.

"You should be nicer to me, anyway. I am leaving soon, you know? What if I never return? Would you miss me?" She joked dramatically, skipping around the dirty ground with her bare feet

"I suppose I would miss your shrill voice. The silence will be haunting." Sigurd said sarcastically, earning a punch on the shoulder from his niece.

Siggy giggled delightedly, the sound the same as the cackles Floki let out when happy. So much has changed since she was a child; the little blonde wasn't a child anymore; she was now a young woman hungry for adventure.

She was so happy when Bjorn announced that he is leaving to find the place on his map that she didn't even care that it meant going with him. Siggy wanted to see the world; she was an explorer, far too nosy and curious for her own good. But Sigurd supposed it was a family trait; she was just like Ragnar and Bjorn.

"Try not to kill him, Siggy."

"No promises, Sig." Throwing away the last apple core, she spoke to him in a serious tone, her hatred for her biological father obvious. Ragnar's eldest son was far too mouthy towards her, considering he is to blame for all her shortcomings. After all, Siggy wouldn't be an outcast and madwoman if he had been a better father to her.

Truth to be told, Siggy was happy with how her life turned out; she had Helga and Floki, she was sure they were far better parents than Bjorn could have ever been. She pitied his children with Torvi, the poor children were probably neglected, and their mother had to raise them independently. Otherwise, where was the fault if not in him as a father? He couldn't just hate her and love the rest of his children.

Helga and Floki loved her and treated her like their own, so she can't be the issue. Bjorn never cared to explain himself, and they avoided each other like the plague. Whenever he came to visit Floki, she left for the woods or to annoy the Ragnarsons.

Siggy parted ways from Sigurd, who left to train with his brothers. She needed to return home before Helga started to worry; the poor woman would go gray at this rate. Floki already said he was bald because of her and Ivar, which was a lie; it was all Ivar's fault; he was more annoying in her opinion.

"Siggy, there you are! Come help me stitch this sail." Helga called out to her adoptive daughter, smiling when she saw the girl safe and sound. She knew that Siggy could take care of herself, but ever since she lost Angrboða, she was worried about her. After all, the gods tried to take her once before, trying to drown her in the river when she was barely four years old.

Siggy was Helga's second chance at motherhood, maybe Floki didn't want a child anymore, but in the end, they got one anyway. Perhaps not of their blood, but Siggy was their daughter, even if not by name.

"Tighten it better and take your time; a good sail is not made in a day." She reminded the younger girl, watching her thin fingers work carefully. Siggy was skilled with sharp things, no matter if blade or needle. But she was always too restless for needlework; everytime, she started a piece and then ran off.

The two worked side by side in silence, while Floki carved details into the prow. It's supposed to be a bear head, meant to honor Bjorn. Siggy hoped it looked just a stupid as him, but knowing the boat builders' work, it would be beautiful.

"Did you pack your things?"

"Yes, Helga."

"All of them? Even the furs?"

"It's gonna be hot there. I don't need furs."

"You don't know that. Pack some just to be sure."

Siggy sighed and looked at her adoptive mother with a begging face. "Yes, Helga." The older blonde ignored the mocking tone and smiled in satisfaction.

Floki snickered behind them and dropped a bow and arrow in Siggy's lap. "Catch something big. We will sacrifice it to Thor later."

"Isn't Aslaug making a sacrifice?"

Floki shook his head and tapped her forehead with a pout on his lips. "This one is to give you more wits. I can't have you dying stupidly. Helga would kill me."

With a scoff, she slapped his hand away, ignoring his giggles as she went out into the woods. Hunting was always her favorite pastime, other than annoying people. The woods were silent; the gods guided her hands as she became a predator and came back covered in blood. What was there not to love?

Walking barefoot over the grass, Siggy enjoyed the serenity and quiet. It was nice to be surrounded by the woods where she grew up. Ever since she was four, the forest was a part of her home. Climbing the trees like a squirrel and gathering herbs with Helga or Aslaug was when she was happiest.

Despite her indifference to the Queen, she was thankful for her company. Aslaug taught her about her gift and how to use it, teaching her the bits that Floki lacked when it came to Völvas. The woman also gave birth to Sigurd, so that was a good thing too. It was also easier to forget that Aslaug left her to the thralls instead of raising her herself. With four children of her own and her husband away, Siggy was too much of a burden on her.

Sometimes when she was young and bored, she wondered what it would have been like living with the Ragnarssons and being raised in Kattegat instead of here. What she might have been like as Aslaug's granddaughter instead of her ward. But those were childish fantasies and a waste of time.

The snapping of a twig broke her train of thought. Siggy stopped in her track and sharpened her ears to any other sounds. Another noise followed, and a deer walked out behind a tree. The animal didn't notice her yet and happily ate, unaware of its upcoming doom.

Siggy drew her arrow and carefully aimed the weapon at the deer. A crow flew from the tree the moment the animal dropped to the ground. Siggy walked to the still twitching deer on the floor; an arrow ebbed in his chest.

"The gods will be happy; you are a pretty one." She grinned in victory and kneeled before the animal to pick it up. "Come on, don't be difficult." Narrowly missing a flailing antler taking out her eye, she threw the animal over her shoulder and carried it home. Humming a song tune Helga sang to her as a child, Siggy returned home only to hear a foreign voice talking to Floki.

Slowly she let the animal to the ground and climbed up a tree to watch the visitor from afar. He was bald with a beard and dressed in rags. But by the way, he talked to Floki and Helga; he must be an old friend.

A crow sat down on the branch next to her and croaked into her ear. "Shut up." The bird continued the persistent noise, only tilting his head as if to mock her. "Gods, you are more annoying the Ivar. Shoo. Shoo." The crow inched closer to her and cawed louder, right in front of her face. "Fuck off!"

"Stop bullying the birds and come down!" Floki's voice carried out from under the tree, causing the blonde teen to scoff. Leaping off the tall tree, Siggy landed in a crouch and picked herself up from the sandy ground. Making her way to Helga, Floki, and the stranger, Siggy sprinted to her seat by the fire. "What did you catch?"

"Deer."

Plopping down next to the stranger, Siggy leaned into his personal space to stare at his aged face that was pulled in a grimace. The blue eyes and quirky smirk were somewhat familiar to her but still a little bit foreign. "Nice to meet you."

"Stop harassing Ragnar. He is a visitor. Play nice for once, huh." Siggy frowned at the name that Floki spoke and leaned away from the once Greatest man alive.

"I imagined you taller. With more hair." She exclaimed, shrugging her shoulders and reaching for the plate with soup, ignoring the man who chuckled at her nonchalant statement.

Helga ruffled Siggy's hair affectionately and filled a bowl of soup for Ragnar as well. The older man thanked her and watched the young blonde female waiting for a name from her. "Don't mind Siggy; she isn't that fond of people."

Ragnar's eyes widened in slight shock at the name reveal. There was only one blonde Siggy, the girl's age that he knew. Bjorn's daughter Siggy - his granddaughter. He looked at Helga for her to confirm his suspicions, so the woman nodded in agreement.

He opened his mouth to tell her something, but the girl cut him off. "Don't bother. I don't care:"

"Siggy." Scolded Helga.

The younger female rolled her eyes and waved her hand while talking. "You told me not to tell lies. I am simply honest. I don't care what he has to say. Sigurd told me he is back and what he did. I could care less for either."

Floki snickered at her indifferent speech and smirked at Ragnar proudly. No matter if she was of Ragnar's blood, Siggy was more like Floki himself. Crazy with the touches of Helga in between.

"But if you touch any of my stuff, you will pay for it with your life, old man." Ragnar snickered at her statement and looked at her with a challenging glint in his eyes.

"What makes you think you could beat me?"

Siggy scoffed and counted on her fingers. "You are old, in pain from your wound. Meanwhile, I am young, fast, and know your weaknesses from Floki."

"Also stupidly brave and possibly suicidal."

Smirking at his remark, Siggy leaned into his face again and chuckled darkly. "Maybe. Or maybe I am certain that if I stabbed you in a dark corner, no one would come to your aid. Especially not your oldest son."

Ragnar grimaced at her truthful words and looked down at his hands that still held the bowl with soup. "You don't like Bjorn."

"For someone who has been away for a long time, you catch up quickly." She stood up from her seat and walked to the water to play with Floki's mini boats. "He is a lot like you, you know? A shit father just like you. You must be very proud."

"Siggy!" Helga scolded, apologizing for her daughter's behavior and running after her. "What happened today. You are being awfully mean today, Siggy."

The blonde snorted and pushed the model ship around the water.

The water created soft waves around the small boat, calming her earlier anger. "We will sail with Bjorn."

"You don't have to go if you don't want to. You could stay with Sigurd. I am sure he won't mind. Or I can stay as well. We could have some time alone and make some new dresses for us. I think yellow would suit you well."

Her reflection in the water looked pissed off. The tangled blonde hair and bright blue eyes of her biological father were a permanent reminder of who she really was. No face paint or mannerism could cover-up whose daughter she was. "I don't want a dress, Helga. I want to fight and have an adventure." Siggy hissed in anger and slapped the water, destroying her reflection. Helga jumped in surprise but calmed down when she saw Siggy's concerned look.

"Then what is the problem? You will be with Floki and me. You can talk to Hvitserk and other warriors. You don't have to talk or look at Bjorn at all." Helga whispered softly, stroking Siggy's dirty cheek tenderly. Closing her tormented eyes, Siggy sighed as if a weight was lifted from her shoulders.

"What matters is the adventure and the glory, not Bjorn. What matters is you, not them—none of them or their whispers." Siggy nodded and stood up to take a stroll.

"I will go for a walk. Meet you at the Hall for the celebration."

Helga watched the teen walk away solemnly. "Be careful!" Siggy waved her hand at her and left without looking back.

Running through the woods barefoot at dawn felt great. The birds were up and chipper while the rest of the world slowly woke up around her. Her blonde hair flowed behind her as she jumped into a puddle of mud and enjoyed the squishy feeling in between her toes.

"Come, the best trees are up here!" Called Floki hiking up the hill before them, passing other tall trees on the way.

Siggy runs behind him, touching every tree and remembering the textures of every bark. "Why not this one? It feels good."

Floki turned on his heel and circled around the tree in a weird dance before shaking his head. "No, no. Not good enough. This one needs more time. But when it gets older. I will make a pretty boat out of it."

Siggy pouted and hugged the tree in protest, pushing her face against the bark. "I like this one! Do something out of it, Floki! Pleaseeeee!"

The boatbuilder rolled his eyes and pried her from the tree. He held her by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes for a bit before chuckling in his peculiar way. "Both you and the tree will grow, and when you are both older, this tree will be the first plank for your very own boat."

Her blue eyes practically sparkled at the thought, and she grinned in excitement. All her earlier sadness and frustration were forgotten. "You will make me a boat? A real big one?"

Floki chuckled and continued his way uphill, Siggy climbing behind him. "Of course! Every voyager needs a ship."

"How do you know I will be a voyager?"

"I can see it in your eyes. You will sail all over the world and see many exciting things." Siggy grinned in victory and sprinted up the hill to a tall oak tree.

She hugged it and smirked down at Floki, who nodded in agreement and let her mark the tree with a knife. He would cut it down later when she was further away. First, they will need to find more trees. "Will people love me when I am older?"

He looked down at the hopeful eyes of his adoptive daughter and sighed. "People don't always love great men and women. They envy them as they envy the gods. Be true to the gods and yourself, and they will reward you."

Siggy opened her eyes, the milky white color fading from them. She sighed in annoyance and watched the waves move in the moonlight. The Great Hall was alive with drunken cheers and brawls, but she felt content by the shore.

When she returned home from her walk, Helga and Floki already left to join the celebrations, so she got ready alone. The pink dress that Helga made for her, especially for tonight, felt too delicate on her. How were those battle-hardened men supposed to fear her if she looked like a soft flower?

Siggy was anything but soft. Sigurd always said she was a hurricane with skin. Easy on the eyes but secretly dangerous. Men will still underestimate women; that was an unspoken rule that always pissed her off. They would respect her skinny mad genius of an adoptive father before they even thought about not treating her like an object. Of course, they will lose an eye or hand for that, but the audacity was still annoying.

Let them look at her and think her small, and then they will shit their pants when they see her beheading enemies. The day Siggy the Drowned settled for a peaceful life, Ragnarok would come. She is Viking and Vikings aren't to be disrespected or underestimated.  

With one last sigh, Siggy turned on her hell and discarded her fur cloak to show off her bare arms to the horny eyes of the drunk people. Sigurd sat on a table near Aslaug, his brothers all around him. Floki and Helga talked to some foreigners on the other side of the Hall.

Merrily skipping towards them made the younger of the two foreigners look at her in curiosity. "You disappoint me, Floki. I wanted to butcher the deer myself."

"You snooze, you lose, Little Menace." The boatbuilder snickered and pulled her closer to show her off to his friends. "This is our daughter Siggy. These are King Harald and his brother Halfdan."

"Ah, yes. The conqueror and his shadow. I am a huge fan of how you take over one kingdom after another—the reason why is disappointing, though."

Harald and Halfdan both frowned in anger but said nothing back to her. Not even an hour here, and she already pissed off two people. At this rate, she would hit her personal record of how many people she can bug in a day.  

"Be nice, Siggy. We are to sail with them to the Mediterranean." Helga softly scolded and shot Floki a glare when she saw him enjoying the exchange too much.

"You have a very unique daughter. I wouldn't expect anything else from you, Floki." Halfdan finally broke the silence looking the young teen over. Slightly unruly blonde hair, face paint, blue eyes with a crazy glint, and a pretty figure. The girl was the perfect mix of Helga and Floki.

"Have you ever raided before, Siggy?" Harald questioned her, causing her to shake her head in denial. "A first raid is a great way to prove yourself. I wish you luck in your battles, then. Let your first kill be easy."

"Who says I haven't killed before?"

Halfdan chuckled at the darkness in her gaze. The voyage won't be boring at all. "And how many did you kill then?"

"A few. People tend to anger me very easily and bleed out too fast."

"I like you, Siggy."

"A shame I don't like people."

[lizacstuff]

Bölüm 45 asks

Plus a few asks from 44, and one about the fragman for 46

Read more under the cut

Anonymous asked: I cannot believe that Ayse revived the "Kemal is Serkan's real father" theory but I think I'm down for it? At least now Kiraz has one decent grandparent and he seems like genuinely nice man. I've been wishing for him to have some scenes with Serkan because the way they set up this S2 plot, they could relate to one another and I was sad to see that he spent 5 years hiding instead

I'm down for this plot! See, now that I know they're doing the long-lost-father plot, it makes all the sense in the world why Serkan doesn't like Kemal and they didn't forge a relationship in the last five years. If they had, then finding out he's his dad would have been a lot less jarring and dramatic. Finding out now and then forging the relationship I think will be a bit more meaty story so it works for me.

To me this story works on a lot of levels, and makes sense with who Serkan is and his very strained relationship with Alptekin. It's like Alptekin sensed it, and resented Serkan his whole life. For those worried that Serkan will no longer have the last name Bolat, I'm not sure where that's coming from. Maybe I'm just not familiar with other cultures, but that is his name, Alptekin raised him, adults don't just up and change their name because of genetics. If you're adopted and you meet your bio dad as an adult, you don't change your name to your bio dad's.

Serkan's name is very much a part of his identity. Which is why this story has so much potential, because it could shake Serkan to his very core to find out who he thought he was, was wrong. He thought he was unlovable, most importantly maybe he'll finally realize there was more at play there and it wasn't at fault.

Anonymous asked: There were a couple things in the last episode that didn't sit well with me. 1. I can't believe Eda made Serkan sleep outside at night and didn't feel bad in the morning when she realized he got sick! 2. The way Seyfi announced Aydan and Kemal's secret relationship. It wasn't his secret to tell, though Aydan did deserve the way everyone reacted. So I got over that pretty quick. 3. Burak!!! He's not the one for Melo. She deserves better and if they end up together in the end, I'm gonna protest.

1. Unless you're going to put the same energy into not believing that Serkan had the gal to remove his bed on the floor as a way to maneuver himself into Eda's bed before she was ready, I really can't relate. It was done for comedy, my advice is to unclench and just giggle along.

2. Or you could look at it as being unfair of Aydan to burden Seyfi with that secret and require he lie to his other employer for five years. I mean I don't disagree that it wasn't his secret to tell, but Aydan had plenty of chances, and it was time for it to come out.

3. This one we are in 100% agreement about. MELO DESERVES BETTER. I will die on this hill.

Anonymous asked: Hi! Do you think Serkan actually believes in Kerem's abilities (he trusts Eda's faith in Kerem) or is this part of his plan to win Eda back? Either way I'm okay, just wondering what you think.

No, I do not think he gained a sudden belief in Kerem's abilities, but I do think he believes in Eda. And if Eda believes in Kerem then when push comes to shove that is enough for Serkan. Of course, he did it as part of his plan to win Eda back. Serkan is taking every opportunity to let Eda know that he respects her and believes in her and I think this was another example of that. There was also an aspect of him trying to win over another person in Eda's circle who was suspicious of him. The fewer people he has working against him, the better! He knows he has no shot with Burak or Ayfer, so this episode he worked on Melo and Kerem. But mostly it was him trying to make Eda's life easier, by smoothing over a personnel problem she was having, thus making working out of Art Life a more attractive option for her. All of those things in one!

Anonymous asked: What do you think about Eda and Piril's friendship? This episode really highlighted how close they've gotten.

Yes, they have gotten close, and I'm happy Eda has a friend, but at the same time I don't trust Piril. This is a woman who discarded Eda and embraced Selin when she was manipulating and abusing a brain-damaged Serkan.

Eda might be able to forget, but I can't. Also as a character she's just boring, rigid and humorless. One of my least favorites on screen.

That being said I do like the triad dynamic of Kiraz/Can, Serkan/Engin, and Eda/Piril, it was fun when they were calling each other at the same time.

Anonymous asked: Idk if they reached out to Maya just because she looked like Hande considering she had no acting experience, but this little girl is like the best casting I've seen. The chemistry with Hande and Kerem is amazing. She's so expressive. I am a Kiraz stan.

She's doing a fantastic job, precious thing! I have no idea how they found her, I know she was an instagram model, but the SCK casting director strikes again. This season doesn't work if we don't fall in love with Kiraz. Thankfully, we did!

Anonymous asked: Hi! Since it seems that we will have 13 episodes, do you think that Edser reconciliation/wedding will be left for the finale, 12-13 ep? Cause Ayse loves to drag and keep them apart.

I think the wedding might be closer to the end, but I think reconciliation will be a bit sooner than that.

However, I have to say that it's really not like they're apart.. is it? I mean this episode we had them living together, sort of casually planning their future together. Next episode we have them pretending to be married and ramping up the sexual tension to white-hot-sun levels, these are all good things. With episodes like this, I don't personally consider the show dragging it out.

In fandom I see a lot of peeps upset because Eda isn't getting immediately back with Serkan and I am feeling inpatient as well, do you think the writers are making a mistake keeping them apart?

Again, I guess my response to you is, by what definition was this episode "keeping them apart?"

Yes, they aren't having sex, but they are living together, working together, raising their daughter together, and I'm a-okay with having a couple of delicious episodes of that while they are still not fully back together romantically. Let's be real, they're still waking up in bed together, flirting, and having a romantic dinner together, so it's not like things aren't moving forward, they are. I'd advise putting aside your impatience, and just sit back, relax, and let the story take its course. There is no need to be anxious with this one. They are going to end up with their happily ever after together, but what we're seeing right now is delightful. It's them in family and domestic situations, them with their child. Most shippers only dream of getting to see this.

This sort of goes back to my stance on episodes 16-24, I know that was a frustrating time for a lot of fans because they were "broken up" but I've always said they may have been officially broken up, but they were in a committed relationship that entire time. And I enjoyed those episodes from that perspective, that tension of them being "apart" but still functioning as a unit and still being emotionally tied together underneath it all. There's kind of a similar situation here, they aren't officially back together, Eda is resisting him, but they are in a committed relationship and I don't understand what the need is to rush through this part? Enjoy the sexual tension of them living together, but not sleeping together. Enjoy the rom com romp of Serkan trying to get in her bed, and Eda taking steps to keep him out. Enjoy their daughter putting them in situations that force them into close proximity, and enjoy them falling into easy compatibility without even trying. Enjoy Serkan planning romantic dinners, and Eda enjoying it despite her every effort to protect her heart.

To me this is very good stuff, and spending this time being impatient and wanting what didn't happen yet, instead of enjoying what did happen is pretty much the recipe for unhappiness not just with this show, but life.

Anonymous asked: i feel like i've seen the exact same frustrations ppl have had with eda right now back around the 20s too after serkan told her about her parents' secret. it was like, now that he's told her the truth, she should automatically forgive him and get back together. same thing happening here, with him accepting his role as kiraz's father. it feels like the same impatience that's put on eda to just forgive him already bc everyone wants happy edser and she's in the way lol.. like girl needs time!

Agreed, and it makes me wonder if these folks have ever watched television before, lmao. Patience! There's a story unfolding and from the first 6 episodes it's clear they have a season long arc planned. All in due time.

Eda spent five years thinking that Serkan stopped loving her, and discarded her for work. The second time he used that excuse to break her heart. My goodness, it's more than okay if she needs a little time to adjust and learn how to trust him again. PLUS that means we get to watch him work on her, try to make inroads, romance her, forge a relationship with his daughter and earn Eda's trust back. What's bad in that?

What did you think of the fragman? It's kind of dumb and unrealistic that they have to dance for a school admission interview.

LMAO. Yes, yes it is, but my question to you is, sana ne?

I mean why do you care if the set up is dumb or not? Or if it's realistic? It's a device to get Serkan and Eda to pretend to be married before they're fully back together and an excuse for us to see Edser smash themselves together in a sensual tangle of limbs while they pretend to be unaffected, while both are being engulfed in USTy flames.

I'm not complaining, why are you?

Come on, this show is silly, it has been from day one, enjoy the fact that we are getting silly plots that force our couple into hilarious and hot situations, because Hande and Kerem are going to give us gold, I guarantee it and I'm going to smile through every second watching it.

xxxxxxxxxx

These asks are from episode 44, they came in and I didn't have time to answer before 45 aired:

Anonymous asked: Do you think there is a point when there are too many “parallels” and it becomes more like scenes are being recycled? Because I kinda felt that way in the last episode. Like she’s just tossing in as many things as she can from those first 11 episodes but I’ve already watched those and Id rather we focus more character progression. I feel like they regressed from those honest conversations last week and were back to being petty this week.

I guess my answer is... no, I don't think there have been too many parallels. Episode 44 was partly about truth bubbling to the surface, with the biggest truth being that Serkan has been in love with Eda every minute of every day since they parted. That is a very important thing for Eda to understand and know and they really can't move forward until she does, because she felt unloved and forgotten all those years. Most of the parallels were illustrating that by showing that he held on to their history, he remembered their history and he honored it. Okay by me.

Anonymous asked: There were some amazing dialogues in the episode. I have two that tie for top. One was when Kiraz said that Serkan was her wish (when blowing her birthday candles), and the other was when Serkan said Apollo was never going to give up on the woman he loves nor on the cherries! Oh my heart had feels both times. What were your favourite dialogues in the episode?

Oh man my head is in 45 now, but both of those examples of yours were great. I loved both of them.

The other than springs to mind is while fishing, Eda telling Serkan that he didn't need to be perfect for Kiraz to love him, he just had to be himself.

Swoon.

That's so important for Serkan to hear, because he doesn't think he's worthy of love as himself, so hearing that from Eda is impactful.

Anonymous asked: reading your ep review, i think a big reason some people are hanging on to hate the s2 plot no matter what are just bc they hate the writer. of course not everyone, but a lot of people will just hate on anything she writes out of spite, even if objectively the episode is very good. idk why that is or when ppl decided they hated her but it's not warranted at all imo. i can understand not liking the premise of this season, but after watching it so far there has been SUCH an improvement edser-wise.

People can like, dislike, love, hate anything they want. Consuming entertainment doesn't have to be a team sport. That being said, from what I've seen I'd agree with your assessment. Teams have formed (Anti-Ayse, Pro-Ayse, etc) and the former are too invested in hating everything she does, the former possibly too forgiving at times. That's their choice, but I have to say I feel bad for the anti brigade, this is a show they loved, and most of them are still watching, but they've completely sabotaged themselves from finding any joy in any of it and I think they're going to regret it once it's over.

Also season 2 is so much better than I thought it could be. I honestly thought there was no way to get back to the early quality, but it's here. The show is really watchable and fun this season, and it's a shame for those who've let their attitudes get so negative that they can't enjoy it.

Anonymous asked: Ok so I'm aware this would be highly uncharacteristic of a dizi - but if they know there's only 6 eps left, my dream would be no more big bad events and just spend it rebuilding EdSer as a couple and a family. Would that be too much to ask lol. They've jumped from one disaster to another. Since we're at the end & they have the luxury of knowing it, I just want to see them working through things as a real unit. They've dated for like 7 eps out of 45? Can we get that above 10 at least????

Congratulations! Because that's exactly what we've gotten so far in season 2. Once we got past the trauma of the 5 year time jump, all the drama has been internal to Eda and Serkan and their relationship. The whole season so far has been about rebuilding Edser as a couple and a family. And if you're watching without the tauntruming twitter teens in your ear, you'd realize we ARE watching them work through things as a real unit.

I'll say this until I'm blue in the face (apparently) just because they are not currently sexing each other up, does not mean they aren't emotionally doing all the things necessary to reach their full potential as a couple.

They are. It's happening. Enjoy it.

[damianwaynerocks]

Zuko & The Waynes

atla/batfam crossover

taglist: @bi-fr0000g​

Part 2

Summary:  Prince Zuko has just seen a light; the Avatar has returned. He was just about to go capture him, when he falls through a portal, and lands in Gotham City. He’s angry. He was just about to regain his honor, to regain his father’s love. After he is adopted by Bruce Wayne and becomes Zuko Wayne, the second youngest child, Zuko starts to have second thoughts about regaining his honor. Living as Zuko Wayne makes him think that maybe, just maybe, he’s deserving of love just the way he is.

pt 1

Part 2:

"Word of advice; never check your hashtag."

Zuko muttered a thank you to Dick as he set his phone down to take a cup of tea being offered to him by his older brother, who say down himself and leaned his elbows on his knees. He smiled softly as he looked at Zuko. "Look, everybody thinks that we care about their opinion. They feel like their opinion on things we do matters, especially the negative ones. Plus, a lot of it's just for attention, just to get us to see it and say something."

"Don't worry about me," Zuko sighed, "I'm used to people saying things like that."

"I'm sorry about that." The two say in silence for a few minutes, before Dick perked up. "I forgot!" he fumbled to grab the remote, "I was going to show you Brooklyn Nine-Nine!"

"What's that?" Zuko asked, taking a sip of his tea. "This is really good, by the way, almost as good as my Uncle's."

"Thanks, Alfred makes the best tea," Dick replied, going to Hulu on the tv, "But Brooklyn NIne Nine is amazing! It's a cop show but so funny at the same time!" He pushed play, and sat back to watch.

It was funny. Zuko laughed a few times. He couldn't stay focused for long, though. He was nervous. His interview with Gotham Gazette was coming up the next week. He'd given interviews as Prince of the Fire Nation, but he'd always been with his father and sister, never really speaking unless agreeing with his father.

As if sensing his nervousness, Dick spoke. "Hey, I know you're nervous about the interview, but I promise it'll be okay. It won't be televised, and Bruce paid the Gazette to allow a family friend, Lois Lane, to interview you. She knows about all of this, including you being from another dimension, so it'll be easier."

Zuko took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Who is Lois, exactly?"

"Superman's wife," Bruce said as he walked into the room, holding a manila folder in his hand. He smiled. "How are you doing, Zuko?"

"I'm fine," Zuko said, crossing his arms  after he set his tea down on to the coffee table.

"It's okay to be nervous, it's your first interview," Bruce said kindly, sitting on the other side of him "I was for mine." Zuko looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"You? Nervous?"

Bruce laughed. "Oh, yeah. I was terrified. I was about your age. The Gazette wanted an exclusive about the new Healthcare program Wayne Enterprises were putting together- which I had little to no part of since Lucius Fox was running it for me."

"What'd you do?" asked Zuko, shifting to face the man.

"Alfred phoned the Gazette and played the sad orphan card for me so I could get the questions in advance," Bruce explained, smoothing the folder on his lap. "Lucius told me the answers to all of them, and so I knew what to say when the interview came."

"Lucky," Zuko snorted. Bruce smiled softly.

"No. Not luck. I just had people that loved me looking out for me." He handed Zuko the folder. "I called Lois and asked her to send over the questions she's going to ask you. Look through them to prepare for your answers, and if you need help, just ask." He ruffled Zuko's hair as he stood up and left.

Zuko blinked, and opened the folder. He read a few of the questions, and groaned. At Dick's questioning look, he said, "Half of these are way too personal, and I don't know what the other half of these mean! Current tv obsession? What lyrics from a song mean the most to you? Anakin Skywalker or Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

"What about Anakin Skywalker?" Duke piped up, sticking his head in the room. "I don't know what we're talking about, but if it involves Anakin, I want in it."

"Lois sent over the interview questions for Zuke," Dick explained, ignoring Zuko's protests against the nickname, "And some of them involve pop culture." Duke looked at the paper over Zuko's shoulder.

"I can help with these," he offered, "After that month mission in San Fran, I'm taking a week break. I can educate you on the icon that is Anakin Skywalker and all the other stuff."

"Okay, thanks," Zuko replied. Duke grinned.

"Now come on, we're binge-watching all the seasons of Clone Wars."

-_

Zuko and Duke were inseparable for the next week, constantly talking about the interview. Duke was telling him all about Star Wars, showing him his Spotify playlist, going to the Gotham Fashion Show, and trying new foods, to name a few.

"You're taking my sparring partner, Thomas," Damian had snapped on the third day.

"Sorry, man, Zu and I have stuff to do!" Duke had replied as he dragged Zuko to the garage by his hand, not looking very sorry at all. Duke had taken to calling him 'Zu' and if he was being truthful with himself, Zuko didn't mind it. They'd become very close.

It was the day of the interview. Zuko was nervous as he and Duke ran over his answers again.

"And remember, if you forget one, just say what you think," he was saying as Bruce straightened his tie. Bruce nodded in agreement.

"And I'll be right behind the camera," the man added, "If you get overwhelmed, tap your leg three times, and I'll interrupt you so you can get a break. Zuko nodded.

"Thank you," he breathed. Bruce and Duke smiled at him.

"Zuko," a woman with long black hair in a white blouse got Zuko's attention, "We're ready."

Zuko took a deep breath as he walked over, sitting on the couch they'd brought into the room for him and Lois to sit on. A broad man with black hair and glasses was behind the camera- Superman, Zuko remembered -smiled encouragingly at him. Usually, Bruce had told him, a man named Jimmy was Lois' partner, but Bruce had requested Clark just in case Zuko had accidentally revealed something incriminating.

"Okay, Clark," Lois said, making a motion with her fingers, "Let's do this." A red light blinked on the camera, and Lois turned to Zuko with a smile. "So! Zuko!" she grinned, "It's nice to meet you! How are you feeling?"

Just say what you're thinking, Duke's voice reverberated in his head. Zuko's voice didn't tremble when he finally spoke, "I haven't felt anything in years."

Lois blinked. "Oh? Did you have a rough life before you met Bruce?"

"Something like that." Lois smiled sadly. She knew the truth, as Clark had told her.

"I'm sorry about that," she said, before clearing her throat. "So! The Gazette put together the 'twenty-one questions' questionnaire for you to go over! Does that sound good?"

The interview was a blur. He remembered telling her that he liked Anakin more than Obi-Wan and that his favorite song was Choke by I DON'T HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME. He told her that his favorite part of living with Bruce was Alfred's tea because it reminded him of how his uncle would make it.

"Thank you for your time, Zuko," Lois smoothed her skirt in her lap as she smiled warmly, "It's been lovely to meet you."

"And we're good!" Clark said from behind the camera, giving the two a thumbs up. "You did great, Zuko!"

"Thanks," Zuko replied, releasing a breath he hadn't noticed he'd been holding.

"Hey, dad!" a boy around Damian's age in a Superman hoodie with black hair and blue eyes flew down the stairs until he right in front of Clark. "Can I spend the night?"

Clark looked at Bruce. "If it's okay with Bruce, sure. As long as you're back tomorrow by noon."

"It's fine with me," Bruce agreed. Jon grinned.

"Yes! Damian, it's a go!" he threw his arms around Clark. "Thanks, Dad!" he turned to Zuko and held out his hand for him to shake. "Hi!" he chirped, "I'm Jon, Damian's best friend! It's nice to meet you!"

"Uh, nice to meet you, too," said Zuko, taking the Kryptonian's hand. Jon's eyes lit up.

"Do you like smores?" he asked. Zuko's eyebrows furrowed.

"What's that?"

"Jon," Bruce said sternly, "You and Damian are not starting a fire in this house. Not after last time." Jon’s jaw dropped in disbelief.

"But Mr. Wayne-"

"Jon," Clark cut him off with a look, "Bruce said no."

Jon sighed. "Aw, fine. But come on, Zuko, let's go!" he picked Zuko off of the ground with startling strength and carried him to Damian's room.

"Don't carry me!" Zuko snapped, shoving the boy off of him and dusting off his clothes. Jon laughed.

"Wow, Damian! He's just like you!"

Damian scoffed from where he was sketching on his bed. "Don't be absurd, Jonathan." Jon raised an eyebrow.

"Let's see; grumpy, not liking being carried at first," he was counting on his fingers, "Trauma, a little scary, black hair, little to no social skills-"

"Hey!" Zuko and Damian interrupted simultaneously. Jon laughed.

"I'm just saying! Anyways, Bruce said we couldn't start a fire for smores."

Damian groaned. "That is so unfair! The chandelier incident was not our fault!"

Zuko blinked. "That... what incident?" Damian waved him off.

"Never you mind. Father is just being unreasonable." he paused. "Jonathan, what exactly did he say?"

Jon cleared his throat before lowering his voice several octaves in an impression of Bruce. "You and Damian are not starting a fire in this house." Damian smirked.

"So we cannot start a fire, but he said nothing about Zuko, the firebender!" he turned to Zuko, "We will go get the supplies. You stay up here. We'll use these to communicate." he tossed an earpiece into his hand. Zuko frowned.

"We need an earpiece just so we can get food?"

Damian gave him a disbelieving look. "Zuko, at this moment there is a Kryptonian, my father, Drake, Thomas, and Lane in this house. We have to cover all of our bases."

Zuko rolled his eyes but put the device in his ear anyway. Damian did the same. Jon was staring at the door, using his x-ray vision to see if anyone was coming. He didn't need an earpiece due to his superhearing.

"Alright, I will go get the marshmallows and graham crackers, and Jonathan, you go get the chocolate from Drake's room," Damian commanded in his voice typically only used for missions. "Zuko, you stay here, and do not let anybody know our plans."

Jon and Zuko nodded, the Kryptonian's serious and the firebender's condescending. Damian gestures to the door. "Let's be off, Jonathan." the two left the room, leaving Zuko standing.

Zuko looked around Damian's room. The walls were bare aside from two swords mounted above his bed and a framed picture of all of his bets above his television. Zuko was accepting the fact that he would be bored whenever there was a knock on the door.

Clark walked in, looking for Jon, but frowned when he didn't see his son. "Where are Jon and Damian?" he asked.

"Play. Dumb," Damian hissed in the earpiece. Zuko put on a confused expression.

"Who's Damian?"

"Not that dumb!"

Clark rolled his eyes fondly, clearly not believing him, but not wanting to push him. "Whatever. Tell Jon I said I love him."

Zuko nodded. "Will do, sir!" he said. Clark nodded, and left.

Jon was back in the room shortly after with a box of chocolate under his arm. "Golly," he gasped, "Tim's room is booby-trapped to the extreme! I barely made it without tripping any of them!"

"That is because you are an imbecile," Damian said from the doorway with a box of crackers in one hand and a bag of marshmallows in the other. He looked at Zuko with a deadpan expression. "You have much to learn when it comes to lying."

"He believed me, didn't he?" Zuko countered, crossing his arms over his chest. Damian rolled his eyes.

"No, he did not, he just heard a distress call from Metropolis and he did not have time to wait," he replied matter-of-factly. Jon's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"I didn't hear a distress call."

"That is because you were too busy trying not to get trapped in one of Drake's childish snares."

"Why does his room have those, anyway?" Zuko asked.

"Because he is worried somebody will come in and steal his things," Damian explained, "as he thinks that anybody with time on their hands would care enough to snoop through his stash of Penthouse magazines."

"What's that?" Zuko and Jon said at the same time.

"Pornography," Damian replied, opening the bag of marshmallows and pulling one out. He put it in between two of the graham crackers, and grabbed a square of chocolate to add. He looked at Zuko expectantly as he impaled it with one of the swords on the wall.

"Light a fire, Zuko," Jon explained, doing the same thing as Damian. Zuko obliged, a fire igniting above his palm. Damian and Jon put their smores in the flames, letting them toast. After a minute, Damian pulled his out. He handed the sword to Zuko.

"Here, eat." It was more of a demand than an offer, but Zuko didn't argue. He took the smore from the tip of the blade and took a bite. His eyes widened.

"This is amazing!" he praised, taking another bite. Jon smiled brightly.

"Right? They're the best!"

"They are a delectable treat," Damian agreed, taking the sword back from Zuko to make himself one. "Even if they are for children."

"Don't forget forbidden."

The three jumped at the voice, the flame fizzling out from Zuko's hand as he saw Bruce standing in the doorway with a frown on his face. "I thought I told you all that you could not start a fire!"

"On the contrary, Father," Damian contradicted, "You said that Jon and I could not start a fire. You said nothing about Zuko."

Bruce narrowed his icy blue eyes. "You're a smart boy, Damian, you knew what I meant. No patrol tomorrow!" Damian's eyes flew open.

"But Father-" he protested, but Bruce cut him off.

"No, Damian, you disobeyed me. And you, Zuko," he turned to the firebender, "No going to John Mulaney's show with Duke tomorrow."

Zuko's jaw dropped. "But-"

"And you, Jon," the Bat ignored him, setting his eyes on Jon. "I will be informing your mother of this." Jon paled.

"No," he whispered, "Not that. Anything but that."

"Yes," Bruce said sternly. "Now, I have work to do." Before he could walk out, Zuko's voice stopped him.

"That's it? Aren't you going to hit us or something?" he asked, confused. That's what fathers did whenever their children misbehaved, after all. They disciplined them.

Although it was impossible to tell, Bruce's heart cracked at his son's bewildered face. "No, Zuko," he answered, his voice much gentler now, "No. A father should never hit his children."

After Bruce left, Damian groaned, throwing his arms into the air. "This is ridiculous!" he seethed, "No patrol? For making smores?"

"My mom's gonna be so mad," Jon whimpered, closing his eyes as though that would erase the image of Lois' disappointed smile out of his head.

Zuko, though, was silent. Bruce's words were running through his mind. A father should never hit his children.

_

Zuko awoke the next morning to texts from the group chat.

Frowning, Zuko opened his twitter as he stood up, stretching. His eyebrows furrowed as he read.

"What the heck?" he muttered as he texted the group chat a response.

"Well," he said aloud as he put on a shirt and prepared to go downstairs for breakfast, "Alrighty then." As he made his way to the kitchen, the voices of the other boys reached his ears.

"If we were in a band, I would be the lead singer!"

"No you wouldn't, you can't sing!"

"What the hell do you know, Drake, you have barbecue sauce on your toast-"

"Damian don't fucking swear-"

"Jason! Stop teaching him those words!"

"How I eat my toast isn't relevant to the fact that Dick can't sing-"

They stopped arguing as Zuko entered the room, sitting into the seat next to Tim and rubbing his eyes. Seeing Tim dipping his toast in barbecue sauce, he wrinkled his nose in disgust and got up from his seat and moved to the one beside Duke.

Tim didn't seem phased. He pointed his toast at Zuko. "You went on a midnight drive with Dick, right? Was he a good singer?"

"No," Zuko replied bluntly, meeting Dick's pleading look. The acrobat scowled.

"That is false! False! I am a great singer!" he huffed, "Just ask Superman!"

Jason laughed. "Dude, Clark was lying! He's too nice to tell you the truth! You royally suck."

Bruce was sitting at the head of the table reading the newspaper, sipping his coffee as he tuned out his children's argument. Finally, he cleared his throat.

"The gala's tonight," he said, "And I want everyone on their best behavior."

The gala was for Zuko. An event to celebrate the Waynes bringing in another child.

Zuko was not excited about it.

The day was spent with preparations. Getting the ballroom ready, running over what to say when Gretchen Milliana made you comfortable, and ballroom dancing.

Zuko was not very good at the last one.

"Okay, so, you might need more professional help," Dick admitted after the second hour had passed. "Never fear! We'll get Cass."

Cassandra Cain, the only female Wayne, was in the dance studio. Zuko had only met her a few times.

"Hey, Cass!" Dick greeted as they entered the room where a girl of Asian descent was practicing ballet. "Any chance you can help Zuko get the waltz down before tonight?"

"Sure," Cass replied, stilling her motions. "Come here, Zuko." She placed his right hand on her waist and put her own on his shoulder, interlocking their other hands. "Like this."

She began leading him in the dance, but within two steps, Zuko stepped on her feet. "I'm sorry," he muttered. Cass shrugged.

"It is alright," she paused, "Think of it as if you were in combat. As though you're learning a new fighting technique."

That worked.

After ten minutes, Zuko was starting to get the hang of it. Cass was a good teacher. And surprisingly, Zuko found himself having fun.

The two danced around the room to a Beethoven song. Zuko had a smile, a real smile on his face. He liked it. It was peaceful. It was graceful. It was fun.

"Very good!" Cass praised, "You're a natural!"

Zuko laughed nervously before asking his question. "Do you think... do you think you could show me ballet sometime?" he asked, his face red. Cass smiled.

"Of course! You're a great dancing partner!"

_

Eight hours later, Zuko was in a suit. He pulled at the collar nervously. Duke saw this, and stepped in front of him to straighten his tie.

"No worries, dude," he said, "It isn't that bad. Besides, aren't you a prince? You've probably been to a ton of these things."

Zuko shrugged half-heartedly. "Yeah, but it's different."

"Then don't make it different," Duke replied, "Just put on your Prince Zuko face and pretend like you know what you're doing even if you don't. Fake it till you make it."

Zuko did just that. He put on his Prince Zuko face and acted.

He stood by Dick most of the time, his older brother doing most of the talking for him. But, as all good things must come to an end, Gretchen Milliana asked him to dance.

"You're a good dancer!" the forty-year-old woman purred, "Who taught you?"

"Cassandra," Zuko replied simply. "She's a good teacher."

"She must be," Gretchen smirked. The conversation continued, Gretchen flirting with the sixteen-year-old until he was red in the face. Finally, the song ended, and he said a polite good-bye and went back to find Dick.

"How was it?" Dick asked.

"Take a guess," Zuko grunted. Dick sucked in his teeth.

"Yeah, she's something else. Very yucky." Zuko raised an eyebrow at the word choice.

"Yucky? How old are you?" he taunted. Dick rolled his eyes.

"Twenty-three, which makes me your elder and therefore deserving of respect." He showed Zuko his phone. "Look at my post!"

Zuko looked up at Dick. "Where'd you get that picture?"

"The paparazzi work fast, my guy.”

_

After the gala, Zuko was making his way to his room, when Tim stopped him.

"Come on, I have a favor to ask!" he said, leading him into the Cave where a girl with blonde hair and star earrings was waiting at the computer.

"Zuko, this is Cassie Sandsmark, also known as Wonder Girl," he introduced. Cassie shook his hand.

"Nice to meet ya, Zuko!" she greeted.

"You too," said Zuko, before turning to his brother. "What do you need?"

"So, my team and I have been tracking a magyntite dealer for months," Tim began, sitting on the chair in front of the computer. "Magyntite is a chemical that, when coated over something, makes its durability increase ten-fold. Like, if you made this stuff into a suit, even a punch from Superman wouldn't hurt you."

"It's from the planet Tatooine," Cassie added, "No relation to the Star Wars planet, though. Total coincidence."

"We tracked the dealer to Gotham, and he's having an auction at one of Falcone's clubs. They're calling it 'Masked Magicians Monday,'" Tim said, cracking his knuckles.

Zuko interrupted him. "What does this have to do with me?"

"We need to infiltrate it," Tim explained,  "and we need your help to do it, Zuko. You and Cassie are going to pretend to be a magician couple."

"No offense, Zuko," said Cassie with a glance at him before looking at Tim with a raised eyebrow, "But why isn't Bart or Kon doing this?"

"Because they don't have experience acting as a fancy socialite. Zuko does, being a prince as well as being apart of a gala."

"I don't have experience either!"

"I know but like, you're the only girl." Tim rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly at her glare.

Cassie sighed. "Alright, what's game plan?"

"You and Zuko go to the party in Carnevale masks- I got one big enough to cover your scar-" he added as Zuko opened his mouth, "And when it's time to bid on the magyntite, you get it. I've got $50,000,000 in cash."

"Sounds easy enough," Zuko said. Cassie nodded in agreement.

Tim sucked in his teeth. "Yeah, this is where it gets weird though. Whoever the dealer is is bonkers. Really weird rules. You have to have a date to get in, and you have to be in a relationship with the person. And you have to be convincing. Like if they suspect you're faking, you'll get kicked out."

"That sounds fake," Zuko grunted.

"That's what I thought, too, but it isn't," Tim argued, "This dude only wants couples. Maybe it's a sex thing?"

Cassie scrunched her nose in disgust. "Whoever this guy is, he sounds like a creep. Why does he care?"

"Who knows?" Tim shrugged, "And another rule is that you have to show that you can do magic- real magic, not that children show magic -at the door. I figured Zuko would light a fire in his hand."

"Does he have to say a spell?" asked Cassie.

"Yeah, just come up with something," Tim said to Zuko. "Also, for obvious reasons, you guys need to think of fake names. I have your ids all set up, but I was gonna let you pick your names so it's easier to remember."

Cassie turned to Zuko, putting her hand on her chin and scrunching her face up in an exaggerated thoughtful expression. She furrowed her eyebrows. "You," she pointed her finger at Zuko, "Look like a Dylan."

"Dylan?" Zuko echoed with a frown. "I don't like it. That doesn't sound regal enough."

"Oh, you want a regal name, Your Majesty?" Cassie bowed dramatically before flashing him a grin. "Okay! What about Henry?"

"Henry is... acceptable," Zuko replied, rolling the name around in his head. Tim furrowed his eyebrows, his mouth agape.

"Tell me you didn't pick Henry because Timothée Chalamet played Henry V in that movie."

"That's completely the reason and I'm not even remotely sorry about it," Cassie huffed, placing her hands on her hips dramatically. "I've said it before and I'll say it again; if I don't marry Timothée Chalamet, my life has been a waste." Tim stared at her as if she'd grown another head.

"You've saved eleven people from dying this week alone."

"A waste, Tim. A waste." The corners of her mouth turned up as she looked at Zuko. "Your turn, fake boyfriend, pick a name for me."

Zuko sized her up, thinking, but the only name that came to his mind was 'ty-lee' and he certainly couldn't give her the name of his sister's best friend.

Cassie shifted her weight from one leg to the other impatiently. Zuko's eyes zipped around the room and landed on an empty starbucks cup. "Uh, what about Larissa?" he finally said

"Larissa," Cassie hummed, "I like it!"

Tim gave Zuko a strange look as if to say why did you give her the name of our favorite starbucks barista?

Zuko gave him an anxious look in return as if to say I don't know I panicked.

"So what about last name?" Cassie asked, seemingly oblivious to the silent exchange. "Are we married or what?"

"No," Tim answered, "You're engaged."

"Ooh, that means a fancy ring! Score!" Cassie cheered. She gave Zuko a friendly nudge. "And you'll get one too! Though you're probably used to fancy things, being a prince and then being a Wayne and all."

Zuko shrugged. "I'm not really a jewelry person."

"Well too bad, fiancé of mine," Cassie wrapped her arm around Zuko's waist and gave him a playful side hug, "You are now! Come on, we should get ice cream or some thing else so we can get used to each other so the chemistry seems real and all."

Zuko sent Tim a glance over his shoulder as Cassie grabbed his hand to pull him to the motorcycles. She handed Zuko a helmet and revved up the engine. "My mom doesn't know I have this, so keep it a secret."

"Your secret's safe with me."

Cassie was a bad driver.

Zuko didn't get scared often, but riding with Cassie on a motorcycle? A terrifying experience.

"I can see why your mom doesn't want you to have one of these," Zuko gasped as he hopped off the motorcycle, putting a hand over his chest. "You're a terrible driver."

"No, I'm not!"

"We almost died!"

"But we didn't!" Cassie countered. She walked ahead of him towards the building. "Anyways, let's go eat ice cream! Your treat, since you're rich and all."

"This ice cream better be good, or else," Zuko grumbled. Cassie laughed.

"What are you gonna do, break off our engagement?" Cassie had a twinkle in her eyes as she spoke. "Whatever shall I do?"

Zuko rolled his eyes and led her to a table. Their waiter arrived shortly, holding a notepad and pen. "What can I get you two?"

Before Zuko could say anything, Cassie interrupted him. "Vanilla milkshake please, two straws," she said sweetly. The waiter chuckled, his eyes flicking between the two of them, and walked to the back.

Zuko gave her a look. "Two straws?" Cassie shrugged.

"Hey man, the event's tomorrow night and no offense but being romantic doesn't seem to be your forté. We're gonna have to do a ton of couple stuff so you get used to it."

"I can be romantic!" Zuko protested, "I've had a girlfriend before!"

"Oh yeah? How old were you?"

"Thirteen!"

Cassie laughed. "In my book, any relationship thirteen and younger doesn't count."

"Well, we must be different then," Zuko grumbled, crossing his arms.

Cassie's eyes softened. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"You didn't."

Cassie clearly didn't believe him, but she didn't press it. "So! What do you like to do for fun?"

"I don't do fun," Zuko replied, looking out the window. Cassie rolled her eyes.

"Oh wow, you are so Bruce's kid. But seriously, Zuko, everybody has something they do for fun! You have to have an idea."

"I mean..." he wracked his brain for an answer, and remembered Cass. "Turns out I like dancing. It was outlawed in the Fire Nation, so I'd never danced before. My sister Cass was teaching me how to ballroom dance and I actually really liked it. We're gonna start doing ballet together." His face turned red as he realized what he'd just admitted. A boy? Doing ballet? His father would have scoffed at him, calling him pathetic.

Cassie shocked him by giving him a warm smile. "I love that! Cass is the best ballet dancer I've ever seen, you're super lucky to have her!"

Zuko looked down. "I'm not lucky," he said darkly, "It's like my father always said; my sister was born lucky, while I was lucky to be born."

Cassie scowled. "Well, that's awful to say! I think you're very lucky! I mean, hey," she leaned back in the booth, putting her hands behind her head and smiling, "You get to fake-date me! The great Cassandra Sandsmark!"

Zuko snorted a laugh, which made Cassie's grin widen.

"Score! I made you smile! We'll be a believable couple in no time."

The ice cream arrived, and Cassie put the two straws in. Telling him to 'drink up,' Zuko took a zip.

"This is really great," he said. Cassie grinned.

"Ice cream's so good, man, I'm glad you like it."

"I'm exhausted," Zuko complained, leaning back. He was still in his suit from the gala.

Cassie waved. "Hi, Exhausted, I'm Cassie!"

Zuko gave her a weird look.

Cassie frowned. "You know? You said you were exhausted so I said 'hi, exhausted?' It was a joke."

"It was a bad one."

She scoffed. "As if you can do better!"

"I have plenty of jokes!" Zuko argued.

"Oh yeah? Tell one!"

All Zuko could remember was half of the joke Iroh had told him the night before he's arrived in Gotham. "My uncle used to tell me this one all the time. I don't remember all of it, but the punchline was 'leaf me alone, I'm bushed!'"

Cassie sucked in her teeth. "Tt. You know, a joke is only funny if you tell the entire thing."

"Okay, Damian," Zuko retorted, referring to her use of the sound Damian constantly vocalized.

"Speaking of Damian, what's it like living with him?" she rested her elbows on the table. "Tim says he's a nightmare, but surely he's got his moments, right?"

Zuko didn't respond for a moment, his mind wandering to a few days prior, whenever Damian had invited him up to his room to paint the sunset with him.

The two were silent, nothing but the sound of paintbrushes gliding along canvases filling the air.

"The League of Assassins told me many things." Damian's voice broke the silence, not looking up from his canvas. "They told me that they were great, that they- that we were only killing because we had to. That we were doing good work. That we were going to make the world a better place, start a new, good world order, and that I would lead it."

"I know what you're trying to do," said Zuko shortly, not looking up from his painting.

"I am simply relaying facts to you," Damian denied, "Anyways, I believed that I was doing good. The murder, the cruelty- it was all for the greater good. But... but it wasn't. It wasn't good. Murder is murder. We were using murder as a way to gain power, to gain control over everything. Not to make a good world. They didn't care if the new world is good, as long as they got to rule it." His eyes flicked to Zuko briefly, before returning to his painting. "It took me a long time to realize that. That I was being used. I was a pawn. They didn't love me, I was a weapon. A tool. Something they could use to get what they wanted."

Zuko didn't reply. Surely his father wanted to love him. After all, he was giving him a chance to regain his love. He only had to capture the Avatar. And the Fire Nation was the greatest of all. They were doing good, helping the world.

And yet, the more he thought about it, the more Zuko realized that he couldn't find any instance of the Fire Nation doing something that would directly benefit the Air Nomads, Earth Kingdom, or the Water Tribes. The more he thought about it, the more he noticed the similarities between the Fire Nation and the League of Assassins.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized how different Bruce Wayne was from Fire Lord Ozai. The more he thought about it, the more he realized how different his relationships with Tim, Duke, Damian, Dick, Jason, and Cass are from his relationship with Azula. The more he thought about it, the more he realized how much safer he felt at the Manor than he ever felt at the Palace.

And the more he thought about it, the more the hand holding his paintbrush shook.

"Living with Damian gives you a headache," Zuko finally answered, taking another sip of their milkshake.

[destiniesfic]

132 Hours, Chapter 2:

“Say ‘please?’”

“Fuck off, Greenbriar.”

“Close enough.”

Previous

Read chapter 2 on AO3 or read below:

This is the shape of my nightmares:

My sister Taryn and I are thirteen years old, sick and miserable. We’ve just endured our first heats and stayed home from school for a week with doctor permission. Even now, we feel residual awfulness: headaches and sore muscles. Heats are painful when there’s no one to help you through them, and obviously we’re too young to mate. We sheltered in our rooms, and our adoptive father briefly hired an omega nurse to tend to our high temperatures and help us wrap up in blankets, so at least we felt safe and cocooned.

Everybody knows why we missed school, and they whisper about it behind our backs. Even before we presented, our designation was obvious. The rest of our class—the rest of the school—is alpha kids, and the ones in our year have all started growing out of their baby fat, shooting up like wheat stalks. Taryn and I are only barely taller than we were last year, our cheeks are still soft, and we are gaining weight in our hips and chests. Everything about this is awful. Nothing is fun.

We are outside for gym class. The alpha kids, growing into their bodies, have a lot of extra energy, so they need to spend time circling the track or tackling each other in games of capture the flag. Taryn and I will join them until we get tired, but if we show signs of flagging, we’re benched. Omegas aren’t as sturdy. Omegas break.

Today, the teacher is more generous. During our game of capture the flag, she simply mandates we play defense, guarding the precious flag, and abstain from running around with our classmates. It’s boring, but fine. We get to talk to each other while the alphas tussle among themselves upfield.

Except a few of them are “on defense” today too—the alpha elites, too lazy or too important for gym, who can slack off. As the only two omegas on school grounds who aren’t staff, Taryn and I are categorically beneath their notice, but we know every member of the clique by name: Locke, the son of a wealthy consultant who’s never home, always traveling; Nicasia, whose mom is a senator; Valerian—nobody knows what his family does so we all kind of assume it’s crime; Cardan, the youngest of six heirs to the most absurd family fortune this side of the Rockies.

Already, they are taller than us, stronger than us, looking unfairly sculpted in the autumn sun. Already I am aware of how we are different.

Then the wind blows past me, picking up my hair. And the scene changes.

The first thing I notice when Cardan unexpectedly strides toward me is that he smells amazing. He smells so incredible that I goggle at him for a second, baffled by how I somehow didn’t notice this about him before. I feel a clenching in my stomach and the urge to do something, although at the time I don’t know what. And then, while I am paralyzed by his scent, he gives me a hard shove for no reason, knocking me off-balance.

I land on my backside, an embarrassing but safe place to land, padded with muscle and fat. Our adoptive father always taught us that it’s better to land there than anywhere else, better to suffer a little humiliation than to crack your skull open or shatter your ankle or wrist. It still smarts, but at least the only thing bruised is my pride.

Then Valerian throws his head back and laughs. “That’s where she belongs,” he crows. “On her back, like a good little omega.”

Nicasia thinks that’s hilarious. Locke raises his eyebrows, blinking at us with large, tawny eyes. And Cardan, the instigator. Cardan just sneers.

That sneer has haunted me. I’ve seen it countless times since then. He starts holding his nose when he passes me in the hallway. Whenever I get complacent, he makes sure to whisper in my ear that I reek. He and his friends seem to find it more fun to bully the alphas smaller or weaker than them—omegas already know their place, after all—but that does not protect us when they’re bored, or when said alphas further down the food chain need to take out their own aggressions.

I think they thought it would break me.

They couldn’t know it would do the opposite.

---

“Jude?”

I open my eyes to a darkened room, and groan. I feel vaguely like I’ve been run over by a truck, then the truck stopped and someone picked me up and threw me in the back of it, and we proceeded to drive down a very bumpy road. In other words: like shit. My head throbs, and when I try to sit up, the world spins and I flop back over.

“What happened?” I mutter. Everything is greyish and blurry. Dim light seems to be filtering in from somewhere above my head and to the left, but there isn’t very much of it. I hold my hand up in front of my eyes and squint at it until I stop seeing double.

There’s a relieved sigh from somewhere past my hand. A male voice. “You’re okay.”

I make a second attempt at sitting up and am more successful this time. My shoulder scrapes against a wall to my right, so I lean into it. The light source I clocked before is a small window, longer than it is wide, set high up above me. And on the other side of the room, sitting across from me, sits the dark shape of a boy, or a man, or someone caught eternally in between those two things.

Cardan.

I blink at him. “You look like shit.”

“Yeah, you too.” Cardan rubs his eye. He isn’t sneering now. In fact, he looks worse than I’ve ever seen him. His hair is messy—which is nothing new, people are doubtless running their hands through it all the time with how perpetually tousled it seems—but there are circles under his eyes and he looks pale. He’s also bleary-eyed and squinting a little. He doesn’t seem to have any visible injuries, though, although jury’s out on whether that’s good or bad. I’ve often thought he could stand to get pushed around a little more, instead of always being the one to do the pushing.

“I gave you the mattress,” he says, gesturing at what I’m sitting on. “There was only one.”

I look down. I’m indeed sitting on a mattress. There’s no linens, but someone has thrown a slightly scratchy blanket over the lower half of my body. I peer around, dread sinking in as I begin to grasp the severity of our situation. “Oh, fuck.”

“I think it’s ransom,” Cardan volunteers. “I mean, I really can’t think of anything else it would be.”

I hug my arms to my chest and say the thing drilled into every omega’s brain since they’re old enough to wander off from their parents. “What about sex slavery?”

“Yeah, there’s not a huge demand for alpha men on the black market. Although…” He looks down at himself and smirks a little. He’s built like a classical sculpture and he is well aware of this fact. “Can’t blame them if they decided to make an exception.”

It’s impossible to think he’s making a joke about this, not when it’s actually a thing that could happen to me, a possibility that my stepmother Oriana warned us of ever since she married Madoc and inherited his adopted twins. Sex slavers looking to snatch up omega girls became our bogeymen.

But the odds are that Cardan’s right: it’s probably ransom. I imagine people would do and have done worse to get their hands on a fraction of the late Eldred Greenbriar’s billions.

But I say, “Maybe someone finally got tired of you being annoying as shit.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Feeling mouthy, are we?”

“Fuck off. This is your fault,” I accuse, wagging a finger at him. “You did this.”

Cardan blinks at me. “What, you think I kidnapped myself?”

“Not literally.” I slump back against the wall. “Although it seems like something you would do. You love attention.”

“Ah, yes. All of the attention I am getting from you in our cozy eight-by-ten cell. I’m just soaking it in.” He pantomimes splashing water on his face. “Great for the skin.”

“You’re in a playful mood.” But of course he’s feeling better than me. He would have needed a larger dose—of the chloroform? ether? they used on us to get us here—but he also would have bounced back quicker. Everything about alpha biology is kind of extra like that.

“I joke a lot when I’m nervous.” He sighs and runs his hands through his hair. “I am actually freaking the fuck out.”

“Oh, great.”

“I do have water, though. Thought that might interest you.”

I sit up a little straighter. “God, my head is killing me. Yes.”

“Say ‘please?’”

“Fuck off, Greenbriar.”

“Close enough.”

Instead of getting up, which I think for a moment he might, he rolls the half-empty bottle of water across the floor and over to me. It bumps against the edge of the mattress and I have to lean over to grab it, which nearly makes me hurl then and there. The water helps, though. It’s room temp, but even a mouthful makes me feel more like a person.

“It’s not drugged,” Cardan calls. “Surprised you didn’t ask in advance.”

I flip him off. After I’ve drained the last of the bottle, I let myself just breathe, counting backwards from ten in my head. There are many warring emotions vying to tip me over the edge of a panic attack, but I can’t let them. I have to get out of here.

Cardan flicks at a bit of dust on the floor. When I am on three, he interrupts my mindful breathing. “You realize that, technically, we have now swapped saliva?”

“Ew.” I throw the empty water bottle at him and am annoyed when he catches it effortlessly from the air. “Could you be, like, useful for once in your life?”

“Sure.” He leans forward and lowers his voice, like he’s afraid someone might overhear. “There are three of them. One’s a woman, I think the other two are men. The only one I’ve seen is tall and white and barely spoke a word to me. He dropped off the water when I was still groggy.”

That is useful. Dammit. I frown. “Designation?”

“Dunno. Couldn’t get a read on him. I think they might be using maskers for their scents.”

“Yeah, maybe.” I exhale. “Tall” doesn’t have to mean alpha—my sister Vivi, who’s shorter than me, is proof enough of that. But it doesn’t sound good. “Any idea where we are?”

“I don’t think we’ve left Long Island. I don’t know for sure, though. We could be in Jersey for all I know.”

“Right.” I sigh again and rub my temples. “Okay, so ransom. Ransom. You could technically pay the ransom yourself, right? You’re over eighteen—”

“I’m twenty.” When I blink at him, he clarifies, “Repeated sixth grade, remember? And I just had my birthday in July.”

How could I forget? My life wasn’t exactly blissful before he came along, but it definitely got worse when he got bumped down to my year. “Okay, you’re twenty, and your dad died last year. So you’ve got your own money now.”

Cardan raises his eyebrows. “Wow. Real considerate.”

Now is definitely not the time to quibble over manners, but I manage, “Sorry, I guess.”

“Don’t be. He was a dick.” I glare at him, but he ignores me, patting down the pockets of his skinny jeans. “Huh, you know, when they took my phone and my wallet, they must have also taken the special checkbook I keep on me just for hostage situations. Think they’d accept Venmo?”

“Very funny.”

“But the real issue here is that I can’t touch my trust until I turn twenty-one.”

I wish I could say that didn’t interest me, but it does. Sure, Madoc has money. He’s a ruthlessly efficient attorney with killer instincts, and, among other prominent clients, he’s represented Cardan’s dad and both of his older brothers at one point or another. But he’s not among the alpha ultra-rich. Private helicopter rich. Secluded island rich. And I’m nosy enough about how the point one percent of the one percent lives. Anyone would be. So I ask, “Why’s that?”

“Why did my dad do anything?” Cardan folds his hands behind his head. “To make my life difficult, I guess. It was probably to ensure I wouldn’t embarrass myself by buying and crashing seventeen Porsches in a row. Give that frontal lobe time to develop. He’s not here to say. Anyway, Balekin’s the trustee. Maybe there’s some clause about life-threatening emergencies.”

Balekin is Cardan’s oldest brother, but thinking about siblings makes me wonder, with a pang in my chest, about Taryn. What had she done when she and Locke couldn’t find me at the party? Had she panicked? Had she gotten home safe? I don’t want to think about Madoc because he’s probably freaking out in a big way, a side of him I have only seen once before, the last time someone threatened me. It’s more likely that he’ll tear the kidnappers limb from limb than give into anybody’s demands. I hope Balekin has a more level head, although given his reputation for throwing massive parties, I am not counting on it.

“Right,” I say. “So they’ll hit up Balekin for the money?”

“Dude, I don’t know. Honestly? He might have staged this himself to get at the trust, or more likely my stake in the corporation. In some ways, I think it’s better for my family if I disappear.”

It surprises me to hear him say that. “Wouldn’t—that would be a huge scandal, though?”

I don’t say what I think, which is Don’t they love you? But there’s a pretty big age gap between Cardan and his oldest siblings. They could be practically strangers for all I know.

Cardan just shrugs and looks gloomy.

“I don’t think they planned on getting me, too,” I say quietly. There’s only one mattress in the room. One bottle of water on hand for when Cardan woke up. And anyone who thinks they can extort “Mad Dog” Madoc is definitely biting off more than they can chew. But that curdles my stomach, because if Cardan hadn’t chased me down the beach, I probably would have woken up in my lavender canopied bed, safe. Probably with a killer headache from overstimulation, but safe. As safe as I can ever be.

“Yeah,” Cardan agrees, which doesn’t help me feel any better. “Wrong place, wrong time.”

I blow out a breath. “Well, Balekin better pay up in the next forty-eight hours, or we need to figure out how to get out of here. Otherwise we’re going to have problems.”

“We are?”

I swallow. I hate that I have to spell it out for him. But I keep my voice even, casual. “Unless you’ve got spare heat suppressants on you.”

Cardan looks dumbstruck. “Oh,” he says after a moment. “Shit, no. I must have left them in my other jeans with my hostage checkbook.”

I feel myself blush, which is ridiculous. Unregulated heat cycles, messy and inconvenient as they are, are nothing to be ashamed of, as everyone says. Just a quirk of biology. Just the way I am. There’s even a group of pretty radical omega activists out there fighting to destigmatize unregulated cycles, citing the damage that suppressants can wreak on the body. Except my designation is going to be pretty problematic if I’m locked in this room with Cardan for reasons other than societal stigma.

To be honest, it’s already a problem. The room is probably ten feet long, not long enough for us both to lie down across from each other without curling up to avoid touching. I am already hyper-aware of his presence, the nervous drumming of his long fingers, the terrible urge I have to run my fingers through his already messy curls. It’s just chemistry, but if it’s bad now, it’ll be about eighty times worse for both of us if I go into heat.

And if any of our captors are also alphas…

I shake myself all over. I can’t go down that road. I’ll never pull myself back. I’ll just curl up in a little ball and then it’ll be up to Cardan to save us, which, no thank you. “Yeah. So, one way or another we have to get out of here.”

Cardan goes pale. “Jude, I—”

“So we assume nobody’s coming,” I continue. “Use the next twenty-four hours to figure out as much as we can about the people who’ve taken us and where we’re being held, and the next twenty-four to escape. That’s the plan.”

“That’s a reasonable plan,” he says, vaguely startled.

“You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

“I’m not. You were valedictorian, of course you have a plan. Just, uh, my mind went totally blank when you pointed out you’d—”

“We don’t have to talk about it, okay?” I snap. “I assume you want that just as much as I do.” Which is not at all.

The way he pales further tells me I’m not far from wrong. I mean, he’s always made it clear how much he’s hated my scent, the way I look, the fact that I get better grades than him. He hates pretty much everything about me, because I am an omega and he is an alpha, and that means he should be on top of the world and I should know my place.

I massage my temples, trying to clear my head. “No, we’re going to get out of here before that happens.”

For reasons I can’t pretend to understand, that seems to reassure Cardan. He nods and unfolds his arms, letting his head fall back against the wall. His eyes close. “Okay.”

I am surprised that he seems at all willing to trust me, but I suppose he is pretty low on options. That’s his mistake. Already I am thinking of what a relief it will be to leave him behind, even though I know that, morally speaking, I should be formulating an escape plan for the both of us. Besides, abandoning Cardan to his fate wouldn’t really solve any of my problems. But I wouldn’t have to face his sneer anymore, wouldn’t have to wonder what it would take to convince him I have earned my place when the answer is clearly “Nothing, ever.”

“I just have to figure out how,” I mutter under my breath.

Cardan cracks one dark eye open to look at me, but I ignore him, staring up at the little window. There has to be a way to crack this place open like a nut, and if there is, I’ll find it. There is no other option but this, no other way but out.

I refuse to believe otherwise.

Next

[magalidragon]

“waiting room” | a Dadvos and Olenna drabble

This is all @nlights37​ fault.  I don’t know how or why, but somehow Dadvos came up (actually I do, but it is a secret for another future drabble) and then I wanted to write Dadvos waiting on Baby Targ.  And didn’t know what universe.  And so...here we go, back to the rose next door universe. 

And also, I was scared about doing another one in this universe after Dame Diana Rigg’s passing, but then figured she’d want us celebrating her in her amazing glory, so here we go, back to Olenna’s world!

The smell of hospitals made Olenna sick, which was the only reason she claimed she wasn’t in the waiting room.  She also told him, as he offered to take her to the hospital, that she wasn’t their “bloody grandmother.”  Although her lip twitched after she said it, which Davos suspected might have been her dark heart’s only admission that she thought of the young couple beside her as her grandchildren.  Probably more than her actual grandchildren.  

He didn’t push it; you didn’t get anywhere trying to force Olenna Tyrell to do anything. He just said he would go and wait it out, as the poor things didn’t have any local family.  As the father of seven sons, he remembered each time going out and announcing the birth of the next one, whether to someone in the waiting area or at least on the phone.  

From what he’d gotten from them both, sounded like only Jon’s family was around and even then it was only his two cousins.  The rest he didn’t much care for.  Poor lad, he thought, even now, as he flicked through a dated magazine.  He thought he was somewhat <i>responsible</i> as well.  Marya told him he should know beter than that.  ”Babies come when they want Davos, remember our boys?  Each and every one on their own time frame.”

Aye, that was true, but well, he’d run over to help Dany with some bags from her car, but she’d tugged one free from him, and then before he knew it, she was holding her belly and staring at the liquid trickling down her leg, mortified.  He’d had to calmly assure her that her water had broken, he would call her doctor and Jon, and things would be perfectly fine.  

But who was he kidding?  Olenna Tyrell happened to see the entire thing.  ”What are you bloody doing just standing there?”, she shouted, as he breathed calmly with Daenerys. ”Call the doctor and get out of the way, of the three of us, I actually pushed three of these brutes out of me.”

Poor Daenerys, her eyes were as wide as a deer caught in the crosshairs, and Davos didn’t think it was solely because she was in labor with her first child.  All told, Olenna went back to her house, saying things would take their time and come by in the morning or the evening or whenever the baby actually made its arrival.

He, on the other hand, stuck around.  He knew Jon was terrified; poor lad had confessed as much to him.  Over the years he’d grown very fond of the young man, considering him his adopted eighth son.  It was part of why he’d gone along with the antics of Olenna in getting him a girl.  And seven hells it worked out.  Jon didn’t have much of a father figure, he said, and Davos liked to think perhaps he could be that for the boy.  He was pleased that Jon seemed to accept him in that role as well.

“I’m having a baby,” he’d sputtered, as he arrived at the hospital; Davos rode in the ambulance, since Jon was almost clear at Storm’s End for training exercises of some sort and got caught in traffic.  He was ashen, gray eyes wide.  “A real baby.”

“Aye, and your other half is in there pushing that real baby out of her real body.  Now listen here.”  He pointed his finger into Jon’s chest, his words calm, but firm.  “You do whatever she wants.  No matter how stupid, silly, or what have you.  She asks you to jump, you ask how high.  She wants you to cut your balls off, you say you’ll do it.  She breaks your fingers, you offer your toes.  Understand?”

The pallor on Jon’s face went from white to sickly gray.  He nodded, gulping.  “Aye.”

“Go have a baby son.”

Hours ago now, Davos thought.  He’d gone home, had some dinner, told Marya he’d be back at the hospital and give him a call.  He closed his eyes, took a brief nap, and then tugged out the e-reader that his son got him for his birthday, glasses perched on his nose as he tried to read.  

“First one?”

He blinked, peering over his half-moon glasses at the woman who was standing beside the vending machine near him.  He chuckled.  “Not mine, but theirs.”

“Hmm.”  The woman had flame red hair, which matched her scrubs and the robe she wore overtop them.  She removed a cup from the automated coffee machine, blowing idly on the smoke, her eyes shining red in the haze from overtop the rim.  Her smile flickered.  “The night is dark and full of terrors, but the sun is bright and made of fire.”

He frowned, slightly disturbed to see she was a physician.  Even if she did look a tad familiar.  “Ah, well…good evening then to you.”

The woman smiled again.  “Good luck with your grandchild.”  She wandered off, humming to herself, before he had time to correct her.  

Well, maybe sort of a grandchild. He looked at his phone.  Olenna had sent a text telling him that she requested they name their child after her, because without her, that baby wouldn’t exist.  He rolled his eyes, but did not reply, because he was fairly certain it was true.  

He closed his eyes again and folded his hands over his e-reader, dozing.  He didn’t realize how deep he’d fallen into sleep, or for how long, until someone lightly touched his shoulder, startling him awake.  He scrubbed a hand over his beard and pushed his glasses back up, staring straight into the shaky, ecstatic face of Jon Snow.  “Ah!” he exclaimed, jumping to his feet.  “Well?  How is she?”

“Ten fingers, ten toes,” Jon squeaked.  He gulped, rubbing his hands over his dark beard which had grown darker over the last couple days.  Bags hung under his eyes.  He laughed, a little dazed.  “It’s a girl.  We have a girl…um, Aly…Alysanne, look.”  He showed Davos his phone, with video a nurse took, of a screaming baby girl being handed to her sobbing mother and father, both of them kissing her dark head.  He laughed again.  “She’s perfect.  They both are…gods Davos, I don’t know how they do it.”

“Mystery of the world.”

“I’ll tell you, pelvic floor exercises, that’s how.”

They both whirled around, Olenna marching towards them.  “Well?” she demanded.  She grabbed the phone, a satisfied smile pulling on her lips.  “Ha!  I was right, it was a girl.” She pushed the phone at Jon again, patting his face.  “Get that smirk off your face, you had a few minutes of fun, Daenerys had the rest of the work.  She’s going to have a lot more coming up too, so you get back in there and do whatever she wants you to do.  Give her these.”  She produced a bunch of pale pink flowers, varying shades and types.  “Brighten up that dreary room until they ship her home.”

Jon frowned at Olenna, but said nothing.  Mostly because she didn’t give him time.  She swatted at him.  “Go on!  Get back to your wife and baby, stop talking to us doddery fools!”

Davos chuckled, knowing this was Olenna’s way of trying not to burst into tears.  He reached for Jon, pulling him into a tight hug, father to son.  “Congratulations son.”  He pulled back, beaming, as Jon gave him another shaky smile.  His gray eyes shined.  He nodded fast and grabbed the flowers from Olenna, hurrying off before he could get yelled at again.  

Olenna smiled next to him.  She reached up and flicked at the corner of her eye.  He stared, mouth falling open slightly.  Is she…, he couldn’t even finish the thought, before she sneered.  “I have mascara in my eye, nothing more!  Come on, I’ll drive you home.  But first I have to stop at the store, I have to get a new set of noise-cancelling headphones, I’m not going to listen to a baby screaming.  Did that three times.”

He smirked, gathering his things and followed her, not bothering to tell her that he actually drove himself after stopping at home.  She had to save face after all.  

“Her name is Alysanne,” he said.  

“Lovely name.”  Olenna rolled her eyes, punching the elevator button.  The doors closed and she scoffed.  “Not as good a name as Olenna, mind.”

He laughed.  “No, certainly not.”

[sxveme-2]

Strawberry Pancakes // Bucky Barnes

MASTERLIST

SEQUEL TO BLUEBERRY PANCAKES

DESCRIPTION: Lily Osborne and Bucky Barnes were never blessed with an easy relationship. Whether it be emotional trauma, or Lily's parents trying to be evil scientists. But they somehow made it work, after coming together once again after the birth of Lily's nephew. They were smooth sailing for a while. He proposed, they got engaged, but have yet to marry. While also juggling raising a teenager together as Hunter reaches the age of 16 now. All the while struggling with adjusting to their new lives in Long Island, balancing careers. Meanwhile, Lily struggles with the new found fame of being the fiancé of The White Wolf; and handling the tabloids critiques on her life and gossip columns digging up any information they can on her. While trying to maintain a low profile; and handle her life as it is. And becoming parents. Lily for the second time, while Bucky, well, this is his first attempt at a biological child. All the while a new threat from their past rises up once again, blind siding the family. Bringing forward old hatchets that had been buried, and putting their relationship at risk once more.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

STATUS: Unedited

NOTES: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Five: The One With Her Uncle

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2286

    Carter Evanson was the one constant in Lily's life outside of her family. He was with her from the moment she filed for divorce with Scott, to when she wanted primary custody, all the way to when she wanted full custody. Then she utilized him once again with Hunter's adoption paperwork. Finally, however, she needed him to work those magic family law skills and get the adoption paperwork filed now more than ever.

"Did you know Scott was moving?" Lily asked, glancing behind her at Hunter from the front seat.

"I hadn't spoken with him since Christmas last year," Hunter sighed, sliding his phone into his pocket, "I'm just as shocked as you are, mom."

"That's alright, buddy," Bucky replied, sending a wary look towards Lily, "Mom and I just need all of the information."

The rest of the car ride to Carter's office in upper Manhattan was silent. No one knew what to say. The entire day had been a complete blur for all of them. Then, finally, this morning, Lily woke up and was excited to pick out a wedding dress to marry her fiance wearing. Now she was on her way to her lawyer's office so that she and Bucky could finally make it legal that Hunter was his son.

"Don't tell anyone about what is going on," Lily reminded as the three stepped into the foyer of the law firm, "The last thing I need is this spreading through the PTA right to Priya."

Hunter nodded and gripped his mom's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Lily knew this was tough on Hunter. Scott has done nothing but make the boy's life a living hell with a new bomb being dropped every other day. It didn't help that Scott seemed to have some sort of vendetta against his ex-wife, despite him being the reason they separated in the first place. It wasn't Lily's fault that Hunter resented his father. It was Scotts.

Lily always tried to be the firm front of her family. She wanted to show everyone that despite the hell they've been through, they were able to come out the other end happy. But it was hard sometimes, especially when Scott got involved in her life again. He always seemed to barge in whenever everything was finally going smoothly. Then, in classic Scott fashion, he threw Lily for a loop anytime he spoke.

Lily slid her other hand into Bucky's as the three stood in the elevator, waiting to get to Carter's floor. She remembered the nights when she and Bucky would camp out in the living room with Hunter when he was thirteen. She was pregnant and preferred sleeping in the living room since it was cooler than their room. Joey would curl up at their feet and snore softly as the three fell asleep to some cheesy rom-com movie.

Those were the times Lily found she was the happiest, when it was just her tiny family away from the outside world. She would watch Bucky and Hunter curl into one another, Bucky's flesh hand stroking the boy's blonde hair as they fell asleep. She would always get up before everyone and make pancakes and wake them up with the scent. When she was pregnant, she had an aversion to blueberries, so she'd make herself oatmeal and watch her boys devour an entire stack of pancakes.

"We're sleeping in the living room tonight," Lily whispered, glancing up at the two boys she loved more than anything, "You two, me, and Stella. We can watch movies and relax. Just like the three of us did at the old house."

"That sounds nice, mom," Hunter whispered, pursing his lips into a smile as the elevator door opened, "Now. Shall we?"

"Let's go make you a Barnes," Bucky smiled, wrapping his arm around Lily's waist and walking forward towards the office.

-----

Three hours. After three hours of Hunter explaining to Carter why there was no chance in hell he wants to be Scott's son anymore legally, the paperwork was filed. Meaning that Hunter was officially Bucky Barnes's son in the eyes of the law. Carter also took the liberty of officially changing Lily's last name in the eyes of the law to Barnes. So when the three left the office, all of them were truly a part of the Barnes family.

Lily no longer had the name Osborne attached to her name. Hunter was free of the Harvey surname. And Bucky had the family he longed for since he was a young kid in the '40s. There was nothing that Scott could do to change what was done. He was no longer Hunter's father, which meant Lily had plans to make sure everyone knew just who the Barnes family was.

"So I guess it's not weird that I call you dad anymore," Hunter weakly smiled as he slid into the car, "Oh my god does this mean I'm Stella's full brother now? Can we take it back?"

"Oh, do not start that," Lily laughed as she buckled herself into the passenger seat, "You love her."

"She's five. She's gross," Hunter grinned, sliding his phone from his pocket, "Why would I ever want to be fully related to a child."

"You weren't an angel at five either, mister," Lily chuckled, shaking her head and sending a text to Rose saying they were on their way, "I distinctly remembering you wetting the bed almost every other day."

Both Bucky and Hunter let out identical laughs as the former started the car. Lily let out a relaxed sigh as she leaned back in her seat, sniffling slightly. She hadn't stopped crying the entire three hours they were with Carter, and she was optimistic that her eyes looked huge. Bucky had barely kept it together as Hunter pleaded with Carter to get everything in immediately, and how he couldn't bear another second of having the name Harvey attached to him. Despite the trauma Hunter has faced, he was a well-spoken and driven person, especially when it came to his father.

"How do you think he'll react when he finds out?" Hunter blurted out as the three sat at a traffic light.

Lily pursed her lips and glanced over her shoulder back at her son. He was fiddling with the hem of his shirt, a tall-tell sign that something was on his mind. Lily and Bucky compiled a list of both Stella and Hunter's ticks and how they acted when something bothered them. Along with that, they worked out strategies that worked best for each reaction to help their children the best that they could.

"He has no choice," Bucky stated, "He signed the papers. He agreed. You're my son, Hunter. If he contacts you in any way, shape or form, you tell me. Your mother may be scary, but as far as I'm concerned, that's my fight."

Lily watched Bucky intently as he spoke. Beside her sat the man who went up against a titan while being calm, cool, and collected. He fought against an entire army of aliens and didn't break his composure. Bucky was the man who was brainwashed and used as a weapon but managed to keep his calm exterior while in hiding. But whenever it involved Scott, or any harm towards Lily, Hunter, or Stella, he became frustrated and outwardly ticked off. She only ever really heard him raise his voice when Hunter did something completely offside or Scott spoke with Lily.

"He's right," Lily nodded, reaching her hand over and squeezing Bucky's shoulder, "Scott isn't your father. He never really was, you know this. If he contacts you, we'll let Carter know."

The car fell silent once again as the family drove towards Rose's apartment building. The only noise that filled the void of noise was metal gripping leather. Lily knew that Bucky was on edge. He knew that Scott would try to contact Hunter before anyone else. Especially after pulling a stunt like moving in down the street and attempting to be a father in a way.

Over the years, Bucky grew angrier and angrier at the way Scott was. Especially with his treatment of Hunter. At night, he would cry to Lily about how he would have given anything in his life to have a biological son like Hunter, how he longed to have a child like him. He would tell Lily stories of how back in the '40s, Bucky would babysit the young boys in his neighbourhood with his sisters. Or how he dreamed of having a large "all-American" family.

So, when Lily told him that she was pregnant, she swore his head would explode.

-----

Lily nibbled on her bottom lip as she stared at the two lines on the five sticks laid in front of her. Each was positive. There was no questioning it; Lily was pregnant. She and Bucky were going to have a child. Hunter was going to have another sibling other than Laila. One that he'd get to see every day, not just at scheduled times with Mary. He was going to have a little brother or a little sister or a sibling in between.

Lily was going to have a child with the love of her life. She was going to give him the family that he wanted so badly. It would be difficult for them to figure out, being two working adults already with a pre-teen son, but Lily knew the child would be loved beyond words. She was going to have a baby.

"Hey, doll, what're you doing in here so long?" Bucky chuckled as he pushed open their shared bathroom door.

Lily pursed her lips as tears brimmed her eyes. Doubt shadowed her mind as she thought of the worst-case scenarios. What if he didn't want a kid with her? What if he thought it was too soon? What if he left her? Lily felt her stomach churn and face go pale as thoughts raced through her head. Her fingers gripped the surface of the counter before she decided to rip the bandaid off and tell him.

"I'm pregnant," Lily whispered, turning around to face the man that joined her, "I'm...I'm pregnant."

Lily waited for his outburst. She half expected him to turn and walk out of the bathroom altogether. She figured he would completely disappear from her life or just ignore her. But that wasn't the reaction she got. Instead, Lily found herself being held so tightly she thought her spine might crack.

"We're having a baby," Bucky whispered into the girl's shoulder, peppering it with kisses after each word, "We're gonna have a baby."

Lily felt the tears fall from her hazel eyes as she wrapped her arms around Bucky's neck. He wasn't mad. He wasn't upset. He was happy. The blonde let out a choked sob as she buried her face in his hair, inhaling the intoxicating scent of him. She was having his baby. They were going to have a baby, the two of them. After everything they had faced, Lily never thought she would see the day she'd tell him that she was going to be having his child. She never even thought she'd have another child after Hunter. But there she stood.

-----

"Stella," Lily whispered into the girl's ear, "Guess what we did today?"

"Leave me," the five-year-old pouted as she looked down at her mother, squirming in her arms, "All alone!"

"That's a bit dramatic, Stell," Bucky chuckled as he locked his arm around his fiance's waist, "We made Hunter your full brother. You're both Barnes."

"Bleh!" Stella gagged, rolling her head back dramatically.

Lily laughed and shook her head, dropping her daughter down onto the floor before turning her attention towards Sam and her sister. The four stood for a few beats in silence, appreciating the relaxing feeling that fell over them. There was nothing that Scott could do to mess up what was done. Lily and Bucky were Hunter's legal parents. Scott had signed the papers, and it was a done deal. Hunter was a Barnes, no questions asked.

"Hopefully, they grow out of this phase," Lily chuckled as she turned to look at Hunter and Stella teasing each other, "Not sure I'll be able to handle it."

"I still hate that I'm your full sister so. Not sure if they will." Rose teased before embracing her sister.

"Congrats, cyborg," Sam chuckled as he and Bucky hugged, "You've got two kids now."

"I've always had two kids, Sam. Now it's just in paper."

[naancydrew]

ranking the nancy drew games based on dead mom content™

you read that right. also spoiler warning obviously

33. ransom of the seven ships  -1/10   no dead mom content. negative bc of the fact that there’s blackface

32-24. stay tuned for danger, message in a haunted mansion, the final scene, secret of the scarlet hand, ghost dogs of moon lake, danger on deception island, the secret of shadow ranch, danger by design, the shattered medallion  0/10  no dead mom content™

23. the captive curse  0/10   no mom mentioned for lukas, is she dead or just somewhere else? we just don’t know.

22-21. secrets can kill, the deadly device  0.5/10  someone is dead but it is not a mom

20. the phantom of venice  .75/10  only a dead husband here...no moms

19. treasure in the royal tower  1/10 no dead mom but there’s dead estranged dad content. was marie antoinette a mom? idk

18. the white wolf of icicle creek  1/10  kinda estranged mom content but shes still alive. yanni’s grandma was killed by wolves if that counts and if he was telling the truth about that.

17. alibi in ashes  2/10  i cant remember if kate is ever mentioned, but just the fact that they’re in river heights and carson is gone and can’t help and she doesn’t have kate to help her out and has to go to her friends....idk hits if u think about it

16. last train to blue moon canyon  3/10  camille hurley was not able to have kids so technically isn’t a dead mom but she had her dolls....still sad as hell

15. curse of blackmoor manor  4/10  we learn about the penvellyn family so of course a family full of dead ancestors is full of dead mothers. one of those dead mothers is the iconic elinor who died from being burned at the stake. also the underlying plot is happening because of, not a dead mom, but a divorce and then new stepmom. lotta mom content in general.

14. the haunting of castle malloy  5/10  fiona’s parents were both killed in an explosion and really messed that girl up.

13. labyrinth of lies 5/10  grigor is an orphan, therefore there is some dead mom content, but its very minimal.

12. midnight in salem   5/10  not a technical dead mom, but dead mother figure with frances tuttle and lauren holt (i think that was their relationship....i played it once and theres not much on the wiki for MID yet) so technically the whole plot is in thanks to it, but i dont remember how much grief there was

11. trail of the twister  6/10  some dead wife content that nancy is an absolute dick about. you read the paper about ma. stop fucking pestering pa.

10. legend of the crystal skull  6/10  we get mr sad boy orphan henry bolet crying at his parents’ crypt. also his mom has the same photo as dr predovicu

9. the creature of kapu cave  7/10  for once we get a hardy asking someone about their dead mom instead of nancy! even tho, no one involved seems too sad about it and is very briefly mentioned. in fact, pua seems kinda happy that it’s just her and her dad so she can just surf all day.

8. ghost of thornton hall  7.5/10  again, dead mom content just because we learn about ancestors. a lotta dead sister/cousin content though. also it really hits you when you’re looking at the dates on the family tree and realize that harper and charlotte’s parents died like 4 years before charlotte died, and then harper and clara were alone except for each other. also the fact that clara’s mother died while she was young and before she ever told her who her father was just to have her new guardians die......rough.

7. secret of the old clock  8/10  woooo!!! another plot caused by a dead mom!!! not at traumatic as haunted carousel, but the culprit posing as your recently deceased mother’s friend is ROUGH. also nancy is actually nice when talking about gloria.

6. warnings at waverly academy  8/10  the twins’ mom dying and dad not knowing how to raise 2 girls causing them to pretend to be one person to get a scholarship and not be put up for adoption is so messy but a very good plot twist

5. tomb of the lost queen  8/10  jamila having a similar experience to nancy, where she thought her mom died in a  car crash, but turns out she was part of something bigger that she follows in her footsteps, KNOWING that it might end in her death too. AND those notes from that first exploration and all of the daughters of nerfertari leaving to find their ultimate dead mom (nefertari) and dying/disappearing in the process....idk it gets me!!

4. sea of darkness  9/10  here we have some primo dead wife action, along WITH the child. extremely sad and gets me absolutely every time i play through it.....the fact that he holds onto it being his fault.... oh my god im getting sad again!!!

3. the haunted carousel  10/10  dead mom content to the MAX. dead dad giving clues to daughter to find the last remaining photo of her dead mother since she burned every image of her after she died and then blacked out the memory. thats some trauma right there. interestingly.... im not sure if we learn her mom’s name even though her plot revolves around remembering her.

2. shadow at the water's edge  11/10  oh yeah theres a dead mom and shes HAUNTING YOU!!! kasumi’s story is so sad and nancy has absolutely no right to be poking into these people’s lives and absolutely deserves every time she gets second chanced because asked the wrong thing about their dead mom. also SO absolutely fucked up that anyone’s boyfriend would go “hmm, i want my sister to quit her job and move to the city with me,... oh yes! i’ll haunt her business with her dead mother. perfect!”

1. the silent spy  10000000/10   the FUCKING ULTIMATE DEAD MOM CONTENT™. nancy suddenly learning that her mother wasn’t just a civilian who died in a car crash and that the people who killed her were now after her??? so juicy. we get carson trying to protect nancy from kate’s fate, we get all those flashbacks, those recordings from revenant, nancy piecing together her mother’s double life that she never knew about... GOD!!!! and yes, i absolutely cry when i read kate’s note to nancy. that shit hits man. also kate writing a song for her and carson and then rewriting it to have a part for nancy in it once nancy was born really gets me too. p.s. moira was in love with kate you can’t convince me otherwise.

well. thanks for taking this journey with me. 

[desarcalize]

Book 4: The devils of the monastery Dusk 13: The twins

The next morning, Cross and Sarah was prepared for their one-day-journey. Mother and Barba told them to be careful and praying for them and the twins. The two partners smiled and began their trip to Campbell estate.

During the evening, they arrived in the big, white house, with the big tree outside. Sarah stopped and looked at it. Mana has told her stories about this tree named “Cornelia”. He and his brother used to play around or on it. She smiled thinking two little D. Campbell twins climbing the big tree.

Cross’s voice calling her name, took her out of her thoughts. She turned and he made a movement with his head to follow him and go inside. Cross approached the door, which was open. Some of the candles of were off, like no one cared to light them up again. In front of them were two stars, which separated the house into two wards. Cross took out his judgment and turned to the young girl.

“I will take the right. You take the left. If one of the us find something, we will meet the other in the other ward” “Yes, father” she said and they climbed the stairs.

 Cross started opening all the doors in the corridor, looking the inside. All the rooms were empty. He opened another one and he saw a big room, like it was a princess’s one. On the chair, next to the window there was a woman with long brown hair, looking outside, like she was depressed.

“Are you Katerina Eve Campbell?” Cross asked and entered the room. The girl turned and looked at him. Her expression was like she was crying. “Yes, I am. You must be Cross Marian. The twins told me about you” “They are your children, right?” “They never were my children. There were adopted. They never had parents too” “What do you mean?”

In the same time, Sarah opened a door and looked inside. It was a total white room with few furniture and a big mirror. She saw Mana standing in front of this big mirror, crying. She smiled saw him again and tried to ran to him, but he turned and looked at her with a painful expression on her face, there was blood on his hands and a little blood on his cheek.

“Stay away from me!” he shouted and she stepped back “Kill her” he heard in a voice in his head and turned to the mirror “No! I will not kill her! I… I love her” whispered the last words and started to cry “And I loved Nea too. Nea, I am sorry” he said in his sobs.

Sarah looked around the room and saw Nea’s clothes. It was seemed like Nea was laying in the ground. She approached the clothes and bend over. She touched the white coat and she saw a scull in it. She stepped back and started screaming.

In Katerina’s room, Cross was looking the woman confused.

“What do you mean that they never had parents?” “Before almost nineteen years, I met Adam. He was kind to me and everyone thought that the twins were his children. But one day, before seventeen years, Adam touched Cornelia and he disappeared, like he died and reincarnated into the twins. These children are the Adam himself”

Cross was shocked with her words. He knew that Adam was the Earl of Millennium, the man who supposed to be dead seventeen years now. “He is back. He will always be back” he heard and saw Timcanpy flying to him. He was surprised to see the golem alone, which approached him and started to pull him. The man heard Sarah’s screams and ran out of the room.

He approached the white room, in which Sarah was in shock, looking Nea’s skeleton. She turned to Mana, who was crying, trying to make her stop and calm down, but he didn’t know how.

“How dare you!” she was shouting “How dare you kill you own brother!”

Cross approached her and took her in his arms. He turned and looked Nea’s skeleton, shocked. He pointed the Judgement to Mana. “Whatever is going to happen, Mana must stay alive. Protect him. Don’t let him die”. He remembered Nea’s words and lowered the gun. He grabbed Sarah and pushed her to leave the room. She turned one last time and looked the young man, who was standing next to mirror.

“I hate you!” she shouted “I hate you, Mana D. Campbell” “Stop it” he whispered and put his hands on his ears, crying “Please stop, make it stop”

Cross took Sarah out of the Campbell estate and Sarah was trying to breath, but after the shock, she couldn’t. Cross approached her and grabbed her shoulder.

“Sarah, look at me” she turned and did what he said. He slapped her and her breath came back to normal “Thanks” she whispered “I needed that”

She turned and saw the golden golem flying around her. She reached her arm, like Nea used to do and Timcanpy sat on her hand. She smiled a little and touched her finger on the Timcanpy. Tears started running in her cheeks.

“Put it out” Cross said “Cry, you need this more”

Timcanpy left her hand and sat on Cross’s shoulder. Sarah felt on her knees and started crying out loud. She cried for Nea, for Mana, for what she said to him. She never meant to hate him. She felt like she lost a part of herself.

In the same time, Mana approached the mirror and touched it. He looked the mirror and smiled. He approached it and touched his reflection.

“Ah Nea! So, you are there, in the mirror” when he touched the glass, he realized that there was nothing more than his refection. He started crying and put his forehead on the mirror.

“Forgive me, Nea. Everything is my fault. I have to fulfill the role of Millennium Earl. I have to. This is the only way to destroy the heart. That’s why…” he stepped back and put his hands on his mouth “That’s why I devoured you”

He started screaming and punched the mirror, breaking the glass and felt on his knees. He put his hands on his ears, trying to not hear the voice in his head telling him the same thing “Everything was Mana’s fault. Mana destroyed everything. If only Mana was not existed, then none of these would happen”

“I am sorry, I am sorry” he was whispering and ripped the flesh of his face with his own hands“Mana must disappear” Mana put his blood hands on the mirror and looked his reflection “No, wait…” It was over, Millennium Earl was back.

He created a light ball in his hands.“This face reminds me of Mana and Nea. Please, never come back, Mana” he said, smiled and destroyed his face with his light ball.