#lazarus doe you fucking bastard

[sealhaus]

nefarious beanpole

This is the only thing not related to school I’ve been able to do in like, 2 weeks. Save me winter break winter break save me.

[setokaibapetty]

5 + 1 Fic Friday Roundup: Surprise Relative

Some fics where a surpise blood relation pops up. Like, sometimes the guy who raised you was lying about being your dad, sometimes a Pit gives you a baby, etc.

Imprint (AO3) - "He screwed his eyes shut, held his breath, desperately wished that he was back in his safehouse, alone and blissfully unaware. But the weight in his hands remained, and when he opened his eyes, it was to the bean-shaped 'fuck you' the Lazarus Pit had kindly bestowed upon him, arms and legs folded up against his front beneath off-white muslin while tiny lips smacked softly.'

Red Blood, Blue Blood (AO3) - "Jason Todd was living a very ordinary life in Crime Alley before his mother gets sick. Then, suddenly, Jason and Catherine have to grapple with the secret everyone has known since Jason was born with black hair and blue eyes—Willis Todd wasn't his biological father. Bruce Wayne is, and not only is he the richest man in Gotham, he has three other children who may not be glad to have an interloper in their midst."

Going Off-Book (AO3) - "Dick winces. “Tim, meet Damian Wayne. Apparently, his mom told him who his dad was when he turned eighteen and the first thing he did after finding out was enroll in the nearest police academy. He served for a couple of years and just arranged a transfer here from Metropolis.” He directs a pleading gaze at Tim. “Like I said, Bruce had to go out of town for a while, but he asked me to show Damian the ropes. Tim, I’m sorry, but—"

when the dead tree flowers (AO3) - "It wasn't solely Jango Fett's DNA that went into making Domino Squad. Palpatine had other plans for them. Thankfully, so does their second genetic donor, and he has just as few qualms about murder as a Sith Lord."

Open Arms (AO3) - "The story starts when Quinlan get's a call from the hospital; an old girlfriend has given birth and named him the father, leaving the baby at the hospital. This triggers a series of events that bring Fox back into contact with his bio family, who he is not as distant from as he might like to think."

Bonus: welcome all your bastard actions home (AO3) - "Daenerys had arrived at Winterfell three days past, a great host of dragons and roses and suns and krakens, clearly expecting Jon -- the King in the North, as uneasy that title rests on his shoulders -- to bend the knee. Instead, he takes her to the crypts to speak of ancient history."

[anonymous-existences]

Chapter 14 : Dismantling Red Tainted Walls

I almost forgot to post this here—

[12:35 𝐀𝐌, 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫, 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞-𝐂𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜 𝐏𝐎𝐕]

Dante stared out the windows of the Watchtower, his eyes subtly sparkling as he watches the stars twinkle from afar out In space.. "I wish Danny was here to see this." Dante mutters with a pained look. He covers his face with his hand and drags it down his face as he groans, visibly stressed.

"Hey, we'll find Danny Okay?" Jason Reassures his big teddy bear of a boyfriend by carresing his cheek and hugging his arm, he clasped his hand tightly as Jason made Dante look at him. "Just this time we don't have to be reckless.. we have to plan how to save him and all of you from these shitty fucking people." Jason comforts Dante, trying to become a speaker or Logical Reason for Dante's Disarray Family.

Dante nods and presses his forehead on Jason and Jason obliged. "We just need hope..." Jason mutters, "yes... Hope... Right....", Dante whispered back. They both heard Batman's Grunt to get their attention and both looked at him in sync.

Bruce walked inside the meeting room and Dante held Jason's hand as he walked to follow Batman. "Woah, who's that big man B?" Flash the speedster asks clearly taken aback by Dante's Large Size and his unexpected piercing crimson red eyes. "Ah... A speedster... Clockwork always hated you guys..." Dante mutters under his breathe. "Who is Clockwork?" Superman asks but Dante just takes a look at him and ignores his question. "Okay...— I suppose I am Invisible I guess—" Superman says with a sigh.

"Kronos's Granddaughter.." Dante says as he stared at Diana, Wonder Woman. "How do.. how did you know—?" Diana asks in wonder as he had not even introduced herself to this clearly unknowing strange "meta"-being. "I am the apprentice of your Grandfather, I suppose I'm like your uncle because of that." Dante casually says as he faces the screen and summoning a little chip that contains someone important.

"Wait Pardon? Kronos's Apprentice—??" Diana was in shock, perhaps even in distraught and confusion. "Not that it matters, he's changed anyways... No need to worry about the time bastard anymore." Dante chuckles as he inserted the chip in a lodge that Bruce allowed him to insert the "corrupted" files into.

"And Please Sir Martian Manhunter or J'onn J'onzz as you'd like to call yourself, no you cannot bypass my thoughts I have a built in automatic barrier on me at all times by the old "time is my bitch" Clockwork and yes I can read your mind back as well and I know you too is trying to dig something in me but I can assure you that it is VERY uncomfortable that you do so." Dante says as he prepares to summon someone from the screen. He did not spare anyone else a glance, he was in a rush but he needed to be careful with his next actions.

"I Apologize for my rude actions, I was simply being cautious and curious of what is going through your head." J'onn states and Dante understands his reasonings and nods. "Wait Kronos Hates me??" Flash suddenly speaks up. "You break timelines so much to the point he genuinely someday want to strangle you at one point." Dante groans as he was fixing some stuff with the chip.

"There..." Dante mutters as the chip finally does what it's supposed to do. Release Technus into this Burner PC.

"I HAVE so many questions as to who he is, howis he here and, why are we here." Superman states, "Brush off those Questions for later goody two shoes, you'll have more Questions soon enough after all of this.", Dante chuckles as he pulls out a summoning sigil and pressed it on the screen of the computer.

""Ｔ𝑒Ć𝓱𝐍ย丂. ⓗ𝑒𝑒𝓭 м𝔂 ⓒ𝐚ᒪᒪ." Dante says in Ghost-speak and the Sigil burned a bright Lazarus Green, the screen glitched for a moment before text lines itself on the screen.

"ɨ ǟʍ ȶɛƈɦռʊֆ! ȶɛƈɦռʊֆ ռɨӄօʟǟ— աɦǟȶ ɖօ ʏօʊ աǟռȶ ɖǟռȶɛ."

"Amity Park Files of GIW. They have Danny and we plan to prove to these people that The GIW are pieces of shit and that we're sentient HARMLESS beings 80% of the time but still." Dante sputters and glared at the screen. "PowerPoint it." He says one last time with a sigh as he leans on the wall.

The screen glitched out and a hand emerged. "A POWERPOINT I HEAR! HAHA! good good. I am best at that. That Tucker Foley Child has Taught me after all the importance of PRESENTATION!" Technus says as he fully emerge out of the screen. " As much as I hate all these people, I can tell that we are now desperate to find our little Prince! So I shall oblige with your demand and call!" Technus says with pride.

Technus touches the base of the Burner Screens and A PowerPoint appears, he dims the lights and it took the JL members aback because he's controlling the electricity and digital functions with ease. And how he is visible unlike DeadMan Boston which in Zatanna and Constantine's words. "Powerful Ghosts can have be seen by the naked Eye because of how powerful their presence is."

The chill in the room deepened a lot lower than before as Technus Talked about Ghosts and Culture. Amity Park, Basic Stuff until.

"But... The GIW Appeared, also known as the Ghost Investigation Ward, Called Guys in White by the Locals of Amity Park.

Horrid Monsters. More than Me to say the least to be honest! I don't experiment on children ghosts or not! Sure I attack sometimes but that's just as I said how ghosts communicate and play!" Technus says and continues on about how The GIW recently killed many children and People of Amity Park because of how they suspected they were Ecto-Contaminated. How they experimented on ghosts no matter the species or age. Dissecting and Looking for a core they can find without it being shattered inside the Body of the Ghost because of their resistance.

As Technus Went on and on about the GIW Superman couldn't help but feel horrified. MARTIAN Manhunter showed concern in his face, Diana was to say the least not very pleased and Bruce's Face remained stoic but deep inside anger stirred within him. Aquaman wanted to look away but he couldn't. Flash just covered his eyes and just listened to this and Green Lantern was Stunned.

I mean what kind of monsters would... Experiment on sentient living beings whilst they are Conscious? Especially children?? Sure... People like those exist but atleast they kill their victims first before continuing with those horrendous acts.

"Before I continue do any of you have any questions?" Superman raised his hand and Technus Nodded "why... Why has no one called the League if you all knew we existed...?" He asks nervously and Technus Laughed.

Not happily but sarcastically and Technus looked at Dante.

"Because the league always ignored our calls. At first the children were the one to call. That was the time ghosts started attacking the town and they thought the kids were joking.

The second time was when Amity Park was sucked into the Infinite Realms and they didn't heed our call. Ghosts and The People of Amity Park slowly gained this.. level of understanding and ghosts stopped attacking but the GIW still kept Attacking Ghosts.

The people tried to stop them and Yada Yada more stuff and now we're here!... Fun innit..?" Dante sighs as he eats a candy in exhaustion.

The JL members were horrified. The JL ignored their calls? What?... that's... When— "that's why we hate you all! But Right now we don't really have a choice now don't we? Our little Prince is the only person that's keeping me from killing everyone in this ship. And Dante's Lover but he's not the main character here." Technus laughed sarcastically. "I assume I've explained enough, and now if you'll excuse me I need to get back to fixing skulker's Metal Hunk of a Robotic Body." Technus says and Dante nods as he opens a portal Under Technus making Technus slowly but steadily lower down to the portal until he was no longer there.

The room turned back to normal and the chill was no longer haunting the room, although there were traces of frost trailing across the metal bolts of the Room and on the edges of the screens.

Jason Pats Dante's Shoulder "you did good." Jason says and Dante smiled and nods. This was the best they could do. "We need to save Danny first whilst also Dismantling the GIW... That is... If you want this world to still exist." Dante threatens and using Fright Knight's Deep Presence he sent a spine chilling fear induced aura to the League.

They looked at each other and nodded in unison once they turn their heads to Dante. Dante walked out of the room with Jason to let the League discuss what they want to do.

Dante rests his head on Jason's shoulder. "Ancients Spare Danny..." He mutters, exhausted from everything and the hours of discussion they have presented to the League.

[𝚂𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢, 𝚅𝚕𝚊𝚍 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙲𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔]

"Why are you here again Clockwork..." Vlad mutters as he enters the living room and staring at clockwork who's drinking tea again, "Why? I can't see my favorite man?" Clockwork stood up and tapped on Vlad's Chin again teasingly.

"Wow... Very homosexual." Ellie mutters Behind Vlad., "am I getting a stepfather now?" Ellie says with a giggle and Vlad reddened and Clockwork looked like he was thinking.

"Hopefully!" Clockwork says happily, "I like your daddy after all." Clockwork licks his lips and sharp teeth and glanced at Vlad who wanted to melt on the spot.

"I like my Daddy too!" Ellie giggled and ran to Hug Clockwork, "mmm that's good little Ellie. Your future is bright... Happy and Stable." Clockwork says, his eyes fluttering gently at Ellie who he carries in his arms.

"Yay!" she celebrates enthusiastically.

<33 Little Side Stories now for the fun of it, next chapter might be a bit longer than here 👀 I'll make sure of it HEHEHEHAHAHAH.

[clay-cuttlefish]

I'm finally done. 738 issues in mainline canon, and they're all sorted. My great burden is off my chest.

Except for the roughly 150 issues outside mainline canon, fiftysomething episodes of TV, handful of youtube videos and animated shorts, six movies, and two podcast seasons.

Then I'll be free.

Send help.

Batman: Urban Legends #14

This is, imo, the best take on conspiracy theorist Vic. He's goofy and overdramatic, but he's doing it to get a reaction out of Bruce.

It's short and silly enough that it doesn't get grating.

Choosing to believe that he found out Bruce's identity because Ollie forgot that he can't firstname Bruce in Checkmate meetings.

I Am Batman #11-14

It's really fucked up that Renee's both a cop and the Question, actually! That's not any better than her being a cop! I do not get why this story doesn't see that!

It keeps laying out the reasons that policing is fundamentally broken but then walking it back to go "oh but Renee's a good cop" when she's not! She's not even the mythical Good Cop! The entire reason she's the Question is because she was not a good person on the GCPD and she wasn't able to fix the system!

Renee using her understanding of how the police protect themselves to push back against them is a good idea, and then nope never mind the anarchists are the murderers actually. Cannot believe Lonnie died for this shit.

This handoff sucks so much. Vic and Renee got an entire series to explore what Renee and Hadiyah do in two pages, and while I actually quite like the idea that Hadiyah's a closely guarded enigma with connections to people she really shouldn't know, two pages? Really? The event tie-in is more important? Couldn't have spread this out even a little bit more? Also Renee's motivation sucks but what else is new.

GCPD: The Blue Wall

This wants to be Gotham Central. It's not.

I'm being unfair. There's worse copaganda on the list, and Gotham Central is absolutely copaganda that fails to meaningfully engage with a lot of these elements, but it just keeps circling back to Gotham Central while dodging that Renee knows how she handled policing making her a worse person: she quit, and she started looking for the truth.

Look I have a lot of very complicated feelings about this, but the commentary on a spreadsheet assembly readthrough is not the place to do it.

From a strictly Renee perspective: it hauls her development all the way back to where it was right after Half a Life, has a police officer who's realized he's a bastard working for a corrupt system go evil and kill her brother, and has her acknowledge the futility of reform from the inside but doesn't actually have her quit.

Batman: Urban Legends: #21

I don't know how the hell you can write a comic about Renee's guilt over the lives she ruined while a police officer and the way the police system makes people worse and prevents reform from the inside, then end it by having her decide to become the commissioner. The argument for why that doesn't work is on the page.

I Am Batman #15

What did Dark Crisis even do? I thought the multiverse was already back? If not, the fuck was going on in Lois Lane???

I Am Batman #16-18

NOBODY!!!

I really love Nobody as a name. Extremely in the spirit of the Question for her to see one opportunity for a quip and latch onto it forever.

Yes it makes talking about her prone to devolving into a shitty Who's on First bit but so does Question and I think that's funny.

I like that Hadiyah's out there doing her own mysterious Question-flavored thing. Sure, I wish Renee didn't push the mask onto her, but reinvention after rough origins is kind of the Question's thing. Maybe she'll turn it around, or fade into obscurity until a different author picks her up, or become a recurring side character, or DC'll implode again and she'll get caught in the canon reshuffle. Who knows! Nobody does!

She's got a cool design and a few solid hooks - I'm interested to see if she sticks the landing in the next couple years.

Lazarus Planet: Legends Reborn

I still don't like her being the Question and a cop, but it's less bad when she's using her Question skills to chase a horrifying magic apocalypse monster.

It's solid. Not a fantastic characterization, but this is recognizably Renee as the Question.

Detective Comics #1069

Ram V. Please. Make this pay off. I beg you.

Aside from Renee looking at her Question mask, there's a blonde guy in a blue suit jacket who punches a soldier and then gets his shit wrecked, so maybe that upcoming Tec Question story is actually about how Vic's full of demons.

Detective Comics #1072-1074

Nocturne is worth reading for its own sake, it fucking rules, and this is so promising. Cmon, Renee! You can do it! Get out of the character reversion black hole!

DC's Ghouls Just Wanna Have Fun

A good little Halloween-themed Question adventure. She solves a mystery, gets a cape, it's cute and charming. Sort of kiddy but in a good way.

I'd call the art adorable but I think that's the wrong impression. There are some very cute panels, but also some excellent detail work and a great sense of movement. I really like it.

I love that her internal monologue is marked with a hat.

You know what? Things are looking up. It's easy to get depressed about the state of Renee, but it's only actually been about two and a half years in the Bad Zone, and that's... not that bad by DC standards? Sucks to live through, but as far as I can tell there was only one author actively invested in regressing her characterization, everyone else was just going along with that. With Ram V writing for Tec, I'm not enough of a fool to be confident, but I think the odds are decent that the worst has passed.

[harpersdragons]

The Tragic Demise of Damian Wayne-Chapter 2

Immediate Aftermath

words: 1380

Jason watches, numb, as Damian collapses, and Dick takes a few steps back.

He screams, thrashing harder and making it nowhere. He’s vaguely aware of Bruce and Tim doing the same, desperately trying to free themselves.

He dimly hears Ra’s chuckle, releasing Talia—who immediately crashes to her knees—and stepping back.

Something crashes through the roof, landing heavily next to Damian.

Superboy—the younger one that is.

Too

Fucking

Late.

Jon cradles Damian’s body, sobs wracking his own.

His eyes ignite with his heat vision, steadily raising his head to stare at Dick.

A snarl twists his lips, as vicious as the small 14 year old could look.

The red lasers streak across the arena, only to be stopped by another form landing in front of Dick.

“Stand Down, Superboy.” Clark’s thunderous cracks the already fragile feeling in the air.

Kon-el arrives last, heading straight to Tim and tearing the chains off. He does the same with Bruce and Jason, and Jason doesn’t hesitate before vaulting over the rail.

He hits his knees next to the cooling body of his baby brother, and Talia joins him soon after. Jon carefully lays Damian down, tears still leaking from his eyes. Jason loses track of where everyone else is, solely focused on the body of his brother.

Talia sobs next to him, and he pulls her into his arms. The woman may as well have been his mother, she showed him kindness and took care of him when no one else had. She clutches at Damian, and Jason almost misses Ra’s approaching again.

“Come, Child. That is more than enough hysterics from you.” He tries to pull her up, roughly grabbing her arm.

“Alrigh’, that's enough.” Jason stands and calls to the all blades—it was more of a test, really, he wasn’t sure they’d respond, since they usually don’t for human threats.

The golden blades arc through the air and slice the Demon’s head clean off.

Jason is recovering his swing and slicing down next, cleaving the body in half.

Just to be thorough or extra revenge, Jason’s not sure.

Interesting, guess Ra’s has to be pure evil by this point, nothing but sheer fucking will and the lazarus pit keeping him alive.

The bastard deserves worse.

Bruce is standing, frozen, between Dick and Damian’s body. Clark prods at him, offering comfort or trying to get him to move, Jason isn’t sure. Superboy (little superboy, not Connor) has left him and Talia with Damian’s body, choosing instead to cling to his father.

He dimly hears Tim instructing the supers and Bruce, something about damage control here and tracking down the rogues.

He vanishes the All-Blades, then crushes next to Talia again. “Can I borrow a couple’a your knives? Gotta handle somethin’.” Jason doesn’t think Talia fully processed his question, but she hands four of her knives over without complaint.

One is her heirloom dagger—likely why she was in Gotham, to give it to Damian for his fifteenth birthday—which he pockets. He’ll give it back to her later.

He passes two of the remaining daggers to his left hand, and flips the other end over end. He glances at the other men, Bruce and Clark are crowding around the body with Talia now, Tim and Conner are off somewhere chasing the other rogues.

He’s free to do as he wishes.

Jason looks at Dick, considering the angles and positions of their relative stances.

Then he flings the dagger.

It spins through the air, more like a frisbee than a throwing knife.

It catches the top of Dick’s suit, yanking him back and pinning him to the wall behind him.

Dick’s gaze is clearer, so someone must have gotten the mind control chip off him.

The next knife goes through his opposite shoulder, sinking in but not quite long enough to pin him to the wall. Dick cries out, attempting to reach up with the other hand to put pressure on it. He’s stopped by the pulling of his suit, from the blade pinning him to the wall.

Jason stalks forward, advancing until he is nose to nose with his older brother. He slots the remaining blade under Dick’s chin, forcing him to meet Jason’s eyes.

“This is your fault, Richard. Y’know that, right?” Jason’s voice is cold, belying none of the white-hot rage lashing through him, or the pit of despair deepening within him. “You killed our baby brother. My baby brother.” Jason takes a deep breath, “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you where you stand.”

Dick’s voice is quiet, weak, and shaky. “I can’t.”

He sounds as broken as Jason feels.

“Hm.” Jason hums as he digs the blade into his neck a little harder.

Dick cries out, again, hunching over as far as he can (he doesn’t make it very far). Jason smirks, and slams his fist into Dick’s face.

Just as he’s about to continue, he’s pulled off, one of Bruce’s arms locking his own behind his back, the other arm around his chest.

Jason goes easily, taking measured steps back.

“It is not his fault, Jason. Stand down.” Bruce says into his ear, leading him far enough away that Clark can free Dick and take care of his hand.

Jason doesn’t drop his older brother’s gaze until the alien blocks his view.

“It may as well be his fault. The one who pulls the trigger is just as much at fault as the one who orders the kill.” He lets himself be turned, redirected.

“Sit down, Jay. Focus on who’s still here.”

“Wow. Weird emotional competence. Kinda. Not really.” He does sit though, watching as Bruce straightens up and visibly pulls the Batman persona back around himself.

He does sit though, watching as Bruce straightens up and visibly pulls the Batman persona back around himself.

Bruce rolls his eyes. “Kal, can you get Dick back to the cave? I can finish up here.”

The compartmentalizing is strong with this one.

Bruce stands over him as Clark and baby Superboy fly off, with Clark carrying Dick.

Tim and Kon come back with the two rogues in tow, just as sirens blare in the distance.

“Who called the fuckin’ cops?” Jason grumbles.

“I did. Someone needs to deal with the two rogues.”

“Fucker.”

“Yeah, yeah, so I’ve heard.”

Kon glares at him, but doesn’t leave Tim’s side.

“RR, tell your guard dog to stand down.”

“Thank you, Red.” Bruce’s voice is quiet, but still the strong tone of Batman.

Apparently, even Batman is immune to grief they’ve all witnessed today. Although, Jason knows he’s affected, they all are.

Even Tim, who appears to be entirely unaffected. He’d just taken Bruce’s compartmentalization to a whole other level.

Talia finally pushes herself up and stalks the two steps to Bruce. Without a word, she punches him in the face. Bruce’s head snaps to the side, but he doesn’t move other than that.

Jason raises a brow, but doesn’t bother stopping her. Interfering with whatever Talia wants to do is a lost cause. He does, however, scoot more to the side. He doesn’t need to be in the middle of their lover’s spat.

“This is all your fault! You were supposed to keep him safe! You were supposed to do what I could not!”

“I know, Talia. Believe me, I know.” The words seem torn from Bruce.

Talia continues hitting him, but mostly half-heartedly. If she was actually hitting him, he’d be on the ground.

Eventually, she burns herself out and is sobbing into Bruce’s chest. One arm comes around her back, the other runs through her hair to soothe her. He lowers them to the ground slowly.

He rests his head on Talia’s, clearly doing his best to keep it together.

It’s still the most emotion he’s shown since Damian’s actually died.

Fuck.

Damian’s dead.

He’s sitting less than two feet from his baby brother’s dead body.

He’ll never get to hear Damian’s laugh, see his smile, watch him draw, or care for his pets.

Nothing.

Because his brother is dead.

And there’s nothing Jason can do about it.

Well, there’s one thing.

But like hell is Jason putting Damian in the Pit. And he won’t allow anyone else to either.

Even if it means never holding his baby brother again.

[silens-oro]

i am begging for a crumb of one of your hotd wips PLEASE

lnfkjalskdjfalskjfakds a crumb you shall have!

Here's a snippet from my upcoming new HOTD series I've been tinkering away at with my hot buff sword-wielding warrior OC Vaenya Targaryen. This will not be a Targaryen/Targaryen pairing fic (for those who get the ick, I see you and love you), if there is a romantic pairing at all. Still undecided as this is truly still in its infancy.

Your feedback is always appreciated! "You are playing war, niece," Daemon taunted emptily -a jest more than anything. Vaenya was one of, if not the fiercest warrior in the Kingdom. Daemon knew his words meant nothing to her for they were words she had heard her entire life. Every doubt was a challenge met by the blade of Lazarus.

“My greatest fault it would seem..." Vaenya started, walking with calculated steps around the makeshift table in the middle of the tent. Her voice, unlike the sweetness of her Queen Mother's, held a rasp -a near vocal fry. She spoke from her chest, giving her words a richness that was pleasant to the ears, "...was that I was born without a cock between my legs,” If there was one thing that Daemon was loathe to admit he appreciated about his eldest niece, it was how direct she was with her words. They sliced through the receiver like a hot knife through the softest butter.

The fabric of the makeshift meeting tent flapped harshly with the wind as she stepped closer to Daemon. Her gloved hands were held behind her heavily armored back. She is truly an image of Targaryen ferocity, Daemon thought to himself. If only Viserys had let him claim her for himself when he had the chance.

Vaenya's face set in a scowl at her Uncle's leacherous gaze. Dark circles made a home under her steely lilac eyes -Daemon's mirrored the same. This war, though it had only begun, had already taken a toll on the biggest players. The chittering of the three dragons within the open field could be heard over the wind.

“Your sister said the same once,” Daemon responded with a smirk as Vaenya stopped just feet in front of him. What the mighty woman of five and twenty lacked in height, she more than compensated for with her strength. She was known as Vaenya the Vicious throughout the Seven Kingdoms, after all. To underestimate her in combat, within any capacity, was a death sentence -Daemon had witnessed it with his own eyes firsthand.

Respect was something hard earned from Daemon, but he truly respected her.

“My sister is a twit who only wanted her voice heard by our father, though she wasn’t fond of lifting her hand to make it so. Rhaenyra knows not of battle, of death and destruction. Blood and fire. She only knows of fucking and breeding, and birthing bastards." Vaenya's sharp gaze was unyielding. "Father isn’t here to protect and coddle her anymore. Now, her words and claims are just as they’ve always been from the moment Aegon took his first breath: treasonous." Vaenya took another daring step forward. Daemon did not think his niece would take the opportunity at this point in time, but he stood his ground and brought his hands linked together to his front nonetheless, ready to unsheathe Dark Sister if need be.

Vaenya continued: "Aegon is the rightful heir to the throne, Daemon. You know this, and I know this. She too knows this, though my father played along with her delusions for so long, she may not know what reality is anymore. Madness does run through the bloodline, after all.” 

"Rhaenyra is as sharp as she's ever been," Daemon warned. Vaenya closed the space between the warring uncle and niece. She bared her teeth, sucking the air from between them. Had Daemon been a lesser man, he would've pissed himself at the sight. "You need not worry yourself with the mind of your sister,"

“Rhaenyra," Vaenya hissed, "will not see the end of this war, nor will her children -what’s left of them. Neither will yours." She spat, "Consider this the last courtesy you get from me: I will cut every…single…one of them down as you watch. Every house who bent their knee to the Blacks will perish -I promise you that. Their traitorous bloodlines will cease so as to not infect the Kingdom any further." Vaenya's scowl turned into a macabre grin. Daemon's nostrils flared in anger. His hand moved for Dark Sister and Vaenya was quick to grasp her hand to his around the hilt in warning. "Mistake not; I keep my cruelties in the light, Uncle, unlike you and your false queen who slit the throats of babes in the cover of darkness. I will do it for all to see.” 

[someoneimsure]

I really, really like the idea of Jason Todd being a killer.

Not a mass murderer, Jesus, but a killer.

Like deep down he really is cold blooded. If someone dies, he won’t give too much of a shit (everyone dies and he’s over it) and in some cases he’ll even laugh. Dying kind of made him treat death kind of lightly, like he knows what’s on the other side and ain’t afraid of it no more, which doesn’t help with his reckless streak but also makes him even more protective of the little kids just because it’s a fundamentally shit experience and nobody deserves that before they hit 18.

But he doesn’t go around killing just anybody who happens to have stubbed their toe on crime because he’s not stupid. He knows if any one of the vigilantes killed someone the police would be after them before Nightwing could complete a quadruple backflip because James Gordon be like that and no matter what Batman says Jason Todd don’t trust them bullies, so killing has to be a last option if he wants to actually save all the city kids one day. Other vigis are kind of necessary for that end goal.

But The Joker? That mofo would be six feet under. Every. Single. Time.

And Jason would 100% come up with some plan to make the City think it was their idea so that they would pay for it. He’s great with plans, after all, and Jason is that level of a dick when it comes to corrupt authority figures. A sort of “You didn’t even try to kill this mofo while I was gone, so now that someone with balls offers to do it for you, you can just pay them warehouses full of money for your little fuck up.”

I imagine this is the way that he re-meets Batman that first time before Batman has figured out who he is or decided he must be Taken Down. “I’m on a mission for the government, let me pass” is not the best way to greet the man who got you off the streets and doesn’t like murder at all and won’t stand for you doing such a heinous misdeed, even if you might have ultimately good intentions.

Jason Todd also may not really care too much about collateral damage but he’s also a professional and knows how to reign it in.

So, Jason would 100% kill the Joker with a crowbar because that bastard took away everything he ever had. And no, Bruce, you do not get to resuscitate him. Jason’s great at hiding bodies, and he would burn that fucker’s body so bad that the only way to ID him was by his stupid teeth and even then he’d chop him up and ship him around the world so no one would be able to find the ashes and throw them into the Lazarus Pit--and then he’d blow up every Lazarus Pit he can find for good measure.

Of course he would also mess with everyone’s heads, especially Batman’s, just for the lols and possibly because he does actually still blame Batman for not killing the Joker when he had a chance but he’s not going to do what that guy from Under the Red Hood comic did and try to get Batman to kill the Joker and/or stop Jason from doing it.

And then, after the job is done, he donates all his money to the Narrows kids who he ended up befriending while he was still a street urchin oh-so-long-ago so that they can finally go to college, something the Joker took from him, which ultimately makes it impossible for anyone to track him down ever because that money traded hands several times too fast. Plus, he really does need to start showing his good side more often because I’m starting to think canon Jason is a caricature of his original self and has completely forgotten what he’s actually supposed to be fighting for at this point.

Okay so, TL;DR, I really, really like mercenary Jason Todd who donates all his hard earn money straight to the orphans because he don’t trust a charity. But only for as long as he goes full brutal as fuck anti-hero immediately afterwards and doesn’t become a mass murderer.

But a universe where Red Hood and The Joker breath the same air simultaneous would literally explode. It simply Does Not Compute for me that canon would have both Jason Todd and The Joker on the same planet without one or the other being dead, so I can’t take any story which has a hint of both being in the universe at all seriously.

I am just now realizing that a burned up Joker corpse with a creep yellow-toothed grin will actually be giving me nightmares for the next six months. Thanks, me for being a fucked up person.

[andywinter16]

Touch starved glaives with S/O HC part 2

Ohoho! Hold tight, needy boy is here! First of all he's not shy to communicate with you that he needs your touch ( Thank a god, seriously). If you thought Nyx was touchy, Pelna is literally another level. Man will find you whenewer you are and embrace you in hug. Obviously you will have to stop whatever you do, be it training, cooking, shopping, etc. Has his hands on you all the time. (It can be little bit annoying, yet he's so sweet about it you wouldn't mind )Pouts and whines for your attention! (Squisch his face and kiss that lovable dork) if you neglect him, prepare for his secret weapon: PUPPY EYES! No one is immune! (I mean IT! NO ONE)

Tangle your hands in his pretty hair, massage his scalp. Eskimo kisses, nose kisses in general are his favourite. (DO IT! for his pretty smile and laugh) Nuzzle into his stumble, your personal scratcher. Whisper sweet things to his ear (what good job he does, what a strong handsome Galadhian man he is) *happy content Pelna noises* (loves being for once appreciated!) Nibble on his earlobe, those breathy sighs wont dissapoint you. 😉 Pelna cracks joke or two to make you laugh. (with him you will laugh all the time) If you lie in bed, you would end up tangled like a pretzel of bodies. Rub your feet together. (His feet gets cold easily) Usually lies his head on your chest, listens to your heartbeat and breathing (it calms him down, you're after all his HEART And HOME)

*crack knuckles* Our witty vice captain with killing checkbones is here. Luche knows he's touch starved, is very well aware that you can help. Will literally do the fucking opposite. (For such inteligent man, he can be dummy *affectionate*) Luche did his research on what can help him. (Reason is simple- he didnt want to bother you. It's not your job to take care of him, you had other much important things than him to worry about. LAZARUS RELATIONSHIP DOESN'T WORK LIKE THAT!) Hot shower is his go to, spends awful lot of time under it.

You need a rock solid plan to get his ass under your care. (Add another plan and plan on top the plan) Rope everyone into it, call all hands on deck! (Because Luche's evasive clever bastard) If the plan doesn't work, just kidnap him  Please, tell him how you feel in private. Ask him If he detest your touch that much. OH THE  FUCKING CHANGE! (Luche´s collected demeanor cracks instantly, you got him!) Put your foreheads together and hold his gaze. Caress firmly that sharp jawline. Assure him you´re there for him, that he does ENOUGH for Kingsglaive, for his home and friends.( His gaze will soften, you can see  tears in the sky blue eyes) Embrace him, let his head drop on your shoulder. Run your hands through that neatly kept hair ( SO FUCKING SOFT) let him be vulnerable in your presence. Wraps his strong arms around you, holds you so close to inhale your scent. (gave those arms some attention Luche´s proud of them, will flex them under your fingers) On that note massage his back with shoulders (man has whole Kingsglaive on them) Wanna see Luche lose his tight up appearance? Bite delicately his lower lip and suck hickeys on his neck. 

[paintball-writes]

Lazarus

Chapter 2 - Dead

(Paint : Wtf happened to the dialogues, I already wrote them.

Luna : Sorry. I saw the dialogues. I wanted to fix a mistake in the first chapter, but these were deleted instead.)

“Give these kids emergency first aid, till the actual medics arrive! Now!” Talia ordered, tossing the sack containing the miraculi to her most trusted men. After all, if the rogue user got them, the world would end.

She looked to see how the Ladybug user was doing, only to see her getting stabbed. She let out a cold scream. This was the last of the miraculii users. Talia saw the Ladybug user detransform and fight even without any weapons. But one hit from the rogue sent her flying.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I should have known. Quite the fighter weren't you?” The rogue smiled sadistically.

Talia ran towards the user, and saw Miralia, her own daughter.

She smiled even when she was dying, “Mother.”

“You came,” She rasped out.

Talia nodded, her voice stuck in her throat.

“Take care of the rogue, Hawk Moth for me, and finish my job, Mother.” She said as the light died in her eyes. Talia let out a wrenched sob.

“You Bastard.” She said, emotionless, as she turned to Hawkmoth.

“YOU BASTARD!” She screamed as she lunged towards him with her sword. What happened next was to be blamed on the Pit’s anger. The world shimmered green as she slashed at him. The asshole swerved to avoid the sharp weapon.

“Talia, what is the meaning of this?” he asked her. Talia didn’t know how he knew her name, but ally or not, he was fucking dead.

“You-” She started as she dodged a hit from him. She sent a kick towards him in return.

“You killed her!” She shouted as she threw another punch.

“And what does it matter?” He almost dodged a kick from her. Almost. A crack was heard. She probably broke one of his ribs, but this monster deserved that. Not only for killing her daughter, but also heavily injuring the other teenagers.

“She was-” she started, but her voice died down as she took a hard hit from him. A really hard one.

“She was my daughter.” She said quietly.

“My only daughter.”

She could see the ‘Oh, shit’ look on the bastard's face as she began throwing a barrage of punches at him.

-

She felt hands on her as she was pulled back. She looked around and saw her comrades' mouths moving, and Hawk Moth, detransformed to Gabriel Agreste, was lying bloody on the ground.

Soon, the police came and took him away.

-

A few minutes later, they were sitting in the league’s base. A towel was wrapped around Talia and she was drinking hot tea.

“You went too far today, mistress.” Her second in command told her calmly.

“I know.” She said, her face blank.

“Your daughter is dead, that’s the reason isn’t it?” He questioned. She clenched her hands around the cup of steaming tea she was drinking.

“It is.” She agreed.

“We can still treat her with the Pit’s waters, you know that don’t you?” He asked, as if it was the most obvious answer. Talia’s head snapped up with wide eyes.

“Judging by your reaction, you forgot.” He commented.

“I did.” She said in return, honestly. The shock had temporarily nullified her ability to lie.

“What’s the situation with the other kids?” She asked a while later. That question was eating her up from the inside.

“They’re in surgery.” He said carefully.

“Oh.” That was the only thing she could say. What was she supposed to say to a bunch of teanagers fighting for a whole city?

“They should be stable after the surgery.” He tried to ease her worries.

“That’s good.” She sighed, relieved.

“When do we go back to Nanda Parbat?” He asked her.

Talia snapped out of her thoughts and said immediately, “Now, we need to heal Miralia.”

“Of course.” He answered, bowed and left the room.

The lazarus pit would surely heal Talia’s daughter, But she had no idea how much the pit would harm them both.

Author’s notes:

Yay! I haven't updated it in a long time, But now it’s here! I’ll try to get the next chap out by next week!

Also I need your opinion on this fic reader, Adrien Salt.

Yay or Nay?

(Note to Luna : Please check my grammar. I know it’s extra bad this chapter.

Luna : It is, Paint. Where would you be without me?

Paint : Screaming in the void. AKA I wouldn’t exist.)

Bye Kittens!!!

Taglist :

@achaoticmess1 @starling218 @literaryhiraeth @couffeeine @abrx2002 @skitarii-alpha-c6-555 @craftgremlin

[mochegato]

Pixie Spy

Chapter 10

Chapter 1     Chapter 9

Marinette shuffled her feet in the hallway.  She smoothed her hair again, as if it could have somehow gotten messy since the last time she checked it, less than a minute before during which time she hadn’t moved from the spot she was in. Content that her hair wouldn’t embarrass her, at least not more than normal, she smoothed over her outfit to make sure everything was in place despite the fact that Jason had seen it earlier in the day getting whipped around in the akuma induced wind.  

Finally she reasoned that she couldn’t put it off anymore.  She took a deep breath to steel herself.  For what, she wasn’t sure.  It made no sense to be nervous and she knew that.  It didn’t relieve the anxiety though.  She was giving him the news he wanted to hear, the news he had asked to hear. So why was she nervous?

She stared at her fist, poised to knock on the door but frozen inches away.  She slowly lowered her hand, the confused look staying on her face.  He was going to get to stay.  He was going to be near her, but what if that wasn’t what he really wanted?  What if he changed his mind once he actually spent time with her?

She stared at the space her hand had been. Was that why she was nervous?  No, her anxiety wasn’t about her love life, not this time.  This was something else.  This was about something more.  Telling him made it all real.  Everything would change and she had argued the change would be for the better.  She couldn’t afford to be wrong about it and it wasn’t up to her.  It all depended on Jason and really, she didn’t know him.  She had bet the world’s future on someone she didn’t know.  

On top of that, for him to really work with the rest of the team, they needed to know what happened with the Lazarus Pit.  And as soon as she knocked, she was going to have to start that conversation.  She was going to have to dredge up painful memories and she loathed the idea of doing that.  The idea physically pained her.

She took a few deep breaths and looked back up at the door with a newfound resolve.  She was Ladybug for fuck’s sake.  She could handle a difficult conversation about emotionally excruciating events.  That was a significant part of her job after all.  People didn’t become akumas because of fun, happy experiences.  And she didn’t know everything about Jason, but she knew him.  She knew he would help.  She knew he was the right choice.  She looked back at the door and knocked loudly.  She silently congratulated herself for her small but significant victory.  She could do this.  She was Ladybug.  She could do this.

Jason opened the door after a minute with an apologetic smile.  “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”  He opened the door to let her through, but she was frozen in her spot.  Her mouth dropped open.  He had clearly just gotten back from working out.  His arms were on full display in his sleeveless shirt and his loose, grey sweatpants clung to his muscular thighs.  His arm muscles looked even more pronounced with the light catching the sheen of sweat covering them.  And God, his arms were bigger than her head.  She stared at them in wonder.  She couldn’t do this.  Who the fuck did she think she was thinking she could do this?

Jason grinned smugly at her reaction.  He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest, making sure to put his fists under his biceps to make them appear larger.  His muscles definitely didn’t need any help to look enormous, but he wanted to impress her and see just how distracted he could make her.  “Like what you see?”

“Yes.”  The answer came out before she even thought about the question.  Her eyes snapped up to his, her cheeks blazing red. His smug smile grew into a deep laugh. She narrowed her eyes at him noticing the smug smile.  “Come on lover boy. The rest of the team is waiting to talk with you and the supermodel has a photoshoot in the morning so he's in a rush to get home and sleep.”

“Supermodel?” Jason’s smile faltered, suddenly less secure in his approach to distract her.

“Yep,” she said with a smirk popping the p.  “Told you it takes more than a pretty face.”

“Good thing I have this body too.”  He grinned again, motioning to himself.

She puckered her lips.  “Did I mention the shoot is for a fragrance, so it will be shirtless?  That’s one of the reasons they chose him.”  He didn’t need to know it was mostly because it was for his dad.  But even if it wasn’t, Adrien’s body was amazing.  That said… Jason’s body was perfect.  Looking at it made her feel like she was going to burst into flames.  Looking at his body and that devilish smile and those captivating eyes, she didn’t think he would even need to touch her to make her orgasm.  And if he kept flexing his muscles like that, that’s exactly what might happen.

“So,” he leaned a bit closer to her so he was in her personal space, bringing her eyes back to his, “what does it take, exactly?”

She pushed him away with a finger on his chest in one of the few dry patches on his shirt.  “Well first of all, someone who doesn't waste my time. Hurry up, Hagrid. They’re waiting and I want to talk a bit before we go.”  She looked him up and down again.  “But, I’m not doing that while you’re sweaty.”

He chuckled and moved to let her in again. She took him up on his offer this time, giving him a wide berth to both keep away from the sweat and keep herself from reaching out to run her hands along his chest as she passed.  “I just need to take a quick shower and I’ll be ready.” He turned to her and gave her devious smirk.  “You’re welcome to join me if you want.”

She quirked her lips to the side and narrowed her eyes at him as though analyzing him.  “I get the feeling you wouldn't know what to do if I actually said yes.”

He raised his eyebrows slightly in surprise before grinning seductively at her.  “I wouldn't believe my luck, but I have all kinds of ideas about what we can do. Been thinking about them since we met.”  He waggled his eyebrows at her.

Marinette blushed deeply and looked away.  “Just… Just hurry up André the Giant. They don't like to be kept waiting.”  

Jason chuckled and started walking out of the room with a small mock bow. “As you wish.”

“And if I got my hands on you we would definitely be late,” she said loudly enough for him to hear her.  She smirked proudly when Jason tripped on nothing, almost falling into the doorframe to the next room.

“You're going to make me take longer in the shower of you keep that up.” He shook his finger at her and kept walking before she could reply.  

As soon as Jason left the room Marinette pulled out her phone and texted Alya.  ‘His body should be illegal.  I can’t breathe anymore.  Thinking about just one of his muscles is going to give me an aneurism.’  

Marinette’s phone pinged almost immediately with Alya’s response.  ‘WTF happened?’

‘He answered the door sweaty and in workout clothes, showing off for me.  I think I died.  Did you see ladybugs flying around, because I’m pretty sure I died and came back.’

‘I’m not sure you’re the best judge.  I think I need to see for myself.’  Marinette could just see the smirk on Alya’s face.

Marinette narrowed her eyes at the phone.  ‘No! Back off.  Mine.  I will cut you.  But he’s going to take a shower so expect a delay.’  

‘Without you? Rude’

Marinette snorted and tucked her phone back in her pocket.  She walked over to the balcony doors and looked out over her city, trying very hard not to think about the water she could hear running.  Just a few feet away, okay more than just ‘a few’, but still not many, he was naked and washing himself… Nope!  She shook her head.  Not going to think about that right now.  She needed to distract herself.

She looked around the room to see if there was anything she could use to preoccupy herself for the next few minutes.  She gave the room a sweep.  Nope.  Nothing. Bastard is going to just let her sit out there with nothing to do but imagine his naked body.  She groaned and fell back over the armrest of the couch, hair splaying out over the cushions and legs kicking idly over the armrest.  

Why couldn’t an akuma strike now?  But nooooo.  They never happen when it would be helpful.  They are also bastards.  Well, not them.  It wasn’t their faults.  Hawkmoth and Argus were the bastards.  And she was the bastard because she couldn’t stop them.  And Constantine was the bastard because… so many reasons, but primarily right now, because he’s the one to put her in this situation in the first place.

She sighed and threw her arm over her eyes. God, she didn’t want to ask him about the Lazarus Pit just as much as she did.  Was there any chance describing it wouldn’t be traumatic for him?  Maybe he would just laugh it off like a joke. “Hey funny story, my brothers and I were just messing around and I ended up falling into the Pit accidentally.  We didn’t even know what it was.”  Then he would run his fingers along her jaw and run his other hand along her side until he got to her hip and pull her closer to him. Then he would kiss her deeply, running his hand through her hair and his other hand would go lower to…

“I see you’ve made yourself at home.” His voice was smooth and amused.

Her eyes shot open and scrambled to stand up.  “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”  He chuckled at her giving her a heart stuttering smile.  He cocked his hip to the side, resting one hand in the pocket of his pants and running the other through his still wet hair.  

“Holy shit,” Marinette mumbled absentmindedly, which was the only way she would be able to do anything right now.  Jason had come out in nothing but a pair of pants that were tight around his thighs and she assumed his ass as well, because his thighs were too muscular for regular, off the rack pants.  She’d have to make him some, she thought distantly.  Though it would be a shame to not see this sight. The lack of shirt and shoes added a sense of casualness and domesticity to his sexiness that Marinette couldn’t handle.

His broad, chiseled chest was on full display and she couldn’t look away from it.  She had known his chest was muscular, the curves of his muscles could be seen even through his clothes, but seeing his bare chest was short circuiting her brain. Drops of water from his wet hair were trailing paths down his chest.  Her eyes tracked one of the drops of water.  She was distantly aware of a chuckling noise but her face scrunched up with concern.  

The drop’s smooth path was getting continually disrupted by scars.  There were so many.  Deep ones, shallow ones, small, large, barely noticeable, wide and rough.  She reached out to touch one of them but stopped herself just short of touching him when she realized what she was doing.  She slowly pulled her hand back and looked up at Jason with concern clear in her eyes.  “I’m sorry,” she said simply.  

She let the intention hang in the air ambiguously. Because she was sorry for so much. She was sorry for acting so casually in his room.  She was sorry for almost touching him so intimately without his permission.  She was sorry for the suffering the scars indicated.  She was sorry that she was going to have to ask him to talk about incidents that may have been what caused the scars.

Jason shrugged with a practiced nonchalance. “No problem.  I’m hard to keep your hands off, I know.” He tried with a smirk, avoiding her eyes.

“Still inappropriate for me to touch you without your permission,” she pointed out sheepishly.

He gave her a roguish smile and moved closer to her. “Oh, you have permission to touch me whenever you want.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she answered breathlessly. She couldn’t look away from the roguish glint in his eyes.  

He stepped closer again until his chest was almost touching hers.  “Please do. And I fully encourage you to make yourself at home here.  Please feel free to get as comfortable as possible.  Maybe start by losing some of your more restrictive clothing.”  

“Is that why you didn’t bother with a shirt?” She looked up at him from under her lashes, not trusting herself to be able to hold her head up straight.

“I hate feeling restricted.”  He nodded slightly, his voice turning seductive.

She gasped quietly when he brought his hands up to cup her face gently.  “You’re making it really difficult to stay focused and be responsible.”

“So be irresponsible with me.”  His voice was enticing and his eyes entrancing, a triton luring her into his lair and she so very much wanted to let him.

She shook her head apologetically.  “I can’t.”

“You’re fighting a villain without help…”

“I have a team.”

“You went in without training.”

“I learn fast.”

“You’re the leader of your team.”

“We work together as a team.”

“You don’t let yourself feel.”

“I feel things.”

“You feel responsible for everything that is happening even though it isn’t your fault.”

“It is my fault we haven’t ended it yet.” She shook her head, tears starting to form.  Everything he was pointing out were things she couldn’t let herself focus on. Because if she focused on them, she would never be able to keep going.

“You deserve a break.  You deserve to do something crazy.  You deserve to be irresponsible,” he said gently.  “You deserve to be happy.”

He ran his thumbs over her cheeks and gazed adoringly in her eyes.  Marinette leaned into his touch.  “You have no idea how much you make me want that.”  She gently placed her hands over his and closed her eyes.  His strong hands made her feel warm and safe, but she couldn’t return the favor. “But we need to talk.  And I don’t want to do it with an audience.” She winced internally at how that sounded.

He sighed and let his hands drop, taking a step away, also well aware that sentence never leads to anything good. “Okay.”

“Unfortunately, you should probably put a shirt on while we talk,” she sighed and looked at the ground.

He smiled cheekily at her.  “Do I distract you?”

She looked back up at him and puckered her lips attempting to keep the corners of her lips from quirking up.  “Yes,” she mumbled and looked away.  

“Good.” He grinned and stepped closer again. “Because you make it impossible for me to focus on anything but you.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head.  She couldn’t let him distract her.  They needed to have this talk and she didn’t want to make him have to do it in front of a group.  After a few deep breaths she looked back at him with a serious look. “It's about the Lazarus Pit.”

His face turned in an instant from teasing to unsure and a bit panicked.  “How do you know about that?”

She gave him a weak smile.  “That’s one of the things we can talk about.”

He looked away with a pained sigh.  “Yeah, okay.  I’ll go finish getting dressed.”  He turned back to her with a strained smile.  He really didn’t want this conversation to go as dark as it probably was going to go.  He wanted to get back to the flirty banter, even though he knew it was probably impossible. “If you’re sure you want me to.”

She gave him a half smile and looked away with a quiet laugh.  “Not really. It seems like a crime to cover your body, but it’s probably a good idea if I’m going to form coherent sentences.”

He nodded and turned to get dressed.  She was still flirting with him.  Still giving him compliments.  That had to mean she wasn’t disgusted by his past with the Lazarus Pit.  Maybe there was hope then.  Maybe she could know the worst parts of him and still stay?  That seemed like too much to ask for.  He would just have to enjoy as much as he could, as long as he could. Until she learned too much about him and changed her mind.

After a few moments, Jason walked back into the room with a serious expression, trying to be prepared for the conversation.  “Well that’s not fucking better.” Marinette threw her hands up in the air and turned away.  Jason was fully dressed but that consisted of combat boots, the same tight pants from earlier, and a skintight shirt that clung to his muscles.  She could see the outline of every muscle through his shirt and trace the movement as they flexed.  “How am I supposed to have a serious conversation with you looking like that?”

Jason blushed lightly chuckled, grateful to her for relieving some of the tension.  “The same way I do when you are anywhere near me.”

“It’s not the same,” she grumbled into her hands. “I’m not always in skintight clothes.”

“You don’t have to be to knock me on my ass,” he answered earnestly.  Marinette looked up at him with wide eyes, a blush taking over her cheeks.  

Jason grinned proudly.  God it made him feel so amazing to know he could make her blush so easily. All he had to do was say a few honest words and she would blush for him.  He could do that.  But they had to be honest words.  She wouldn’t respond if they weren’t.  She demanded honesty.  So he was going to have to give it to her.  He cleared his throat and sat awkwardly on the edge of one of the arm chair’s cushion. “So… you wanted to talk about the Lazarus Pit?”

He had clasped his hands between his knees and hunched over like he was waiting for a scolding.  The sight broke Marinette’s heart.  She rubbed her suddenly sweaty palms on her pants and sat on the coffee table across from him.  Their knees were almost touching.  If Marinette were taller, they would be.  It was the closest she could sit to him without actually sitting on him.  She wanted to be close for this conversation. She needed him to know she was there for him.  She wasn’t going to turn her back on him without hearing him out.

“We know what the Lazarus Pit is and we know you were in it.  What we don’t know is why.  What happened that you ended up in it?”  She took a breath and gave the top of his head, the only part he was showing, a determined look.  “What we don’t know is what it cost you.”

Jason let out a long, deep breath and ran his hands over his face a few times.  “Yeah, okay. That’s fair I guess,” he mumbled into his hands.  Was it really fair?  He didn’t know.  He didn’t know if they deserved to know his deepest, darkest secrets in order for him to stay.  He knew he shouldn’t have to expose the rawest part of himself to stay, but he understood why they wanted it.  And if they knew about the Lazarus Pit, then he understood why they were worried.

What he didn’t understand was why Marinette was sitting so close to him, making herself so vulnerable.  If they really did know about the effect the Lazarus Pit had, then she should know better.  She should know how dangerous it was to be so close.  Yet there she was, sitting inches away, looking at him with openness and compassion.  She was the strangest person who had ever entered his life and God, he hoped she never left it.

“You want the Cliff Notes version or the Mahabharata version?” His voice was tired.

She cocked her head to the side.  “I don’t really know what either of those things mean, but I want to know as much as you’re comfortable telling me.”

Jason huffed out a laugh and leaned forward, concentrating on the floor as he composed his thoughts.  How much was he comfortable with telling?  He was still deep in thought when Marinette spoke up again. Her voice gentle and non-accusatory. “I know it must be really difficult and I don’t want to… I hate that I have to ask you to talk about it, to go through it again.  But, the rest of the team knows too and they’re scared.  If it’s too much for you, we don’t have to know.  You can stay and we won’t push you.  It isn’t a requirement to stay.  But they’re going to be worried and I don’t know if they’ll be able to trust you. They…” she paused considering whether or not to tell him what Alya had said.  There was no way he could take it positively, and he shouldn’t, but she wanted him to know what he would be up against, why she was asking. “They think you chose to go into the pit and they want to know why someone would make that choice knowing the price.”

“Choose?”  He looked at her questioningly.  She couldn’t possibly have meant that.  “Choose!” he repeated incredulously.  He leaned back in the chair and ran his hands through his hair.  “I didn’t choose anything.  I didn’t choose to die at that fucking clown’s hands.  I didn’t choose to get brought back at the hands of that fucking holier than thou Super.  I didn’t choose to get taken in by the League of fucking Assassins.  And I certainly didn’t choose to get thrown into that damned Pit by that fucking bitch.” He started breathing heavily running through everything that happened.

“You wanted to know what it cost me.”  He looked back at her with a feral look in his eyes.  “It cost me my sanity.  It cost me my serenity.  It cost me my sense of justice and balance.  It cost me my family.  It cost me my future.” He scoffed at himself.  “Not that I really ever had any of those things in the first place. Never had them and never going to have them.”

Jason looked up to face her, frustration and betrayal clear in his eyes.  The Pit took so much from him and this should be one of those things.  She shouldn’t let him stay.  She shouldn’t trust him.  “Why would you trust me?  If you know about the Pits, why let me stay?” He cried.

She frowned at him.  “You think I shouldn’t?”

“FUCK NO!” he yelled louder than he meant to and standing up to pace the floor.  “I’m the last fucking person you should trust.  And you already said you didn’t.  You just said you thought I chose to jump into that fucking, godforsaken hell water.”

“That’s not what I said.” Her voice was calm and low, but demanded just as much attention as his screams had.  “I said they were worried about that.  They don’t know you.  They haven’t met you so they’re scared.  They know you have the potential to hurt us, to hurt me, and they don’t know you well enough to know you would never.  I do.  I trust you.”

He threw his hands up in the air and collapsed back into the seat.  Why wasn’t she understanding this?  As much as he hated the way his family treated him, he understood it.  He deserved it.  This though, he didn’t deserve.  It was everything he had asked her for; a chance, their trust, her attention. But he didn’t deserve it.   “Terrible decision,” he grumbled at her. “They could be right.”

She chuckled at his reaction and gave him a soft smile.  “I trust you and I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

He scoffed at her.  “You trust Constantine.”

“Eh.  Yes and no. I trust Constantine to be Constantine.” She shrugged at him and leaned back, supporting herself with her hands behind her. “We needed someone with magical knowledge and questionable morals so he was the best fit.  We sure as fuck weren’t going to go to Doctor Fate or Zatara, for opposite reasons.”  She sighed and looked out through the windows, watching the city’s lights twinkle in the distance.  “Look, I wouldn’t trust him to watch my dog, if I had one.  But I’d trust him to watch my back until the cost got too high.  I’d trust him to know when that was.  And honestly, he’s the only one I trust with that. The only one.”  She turned back to Jason with a quizzical look.  “Do you think that’s what the Pit did to you?  Made you untrustworthy?”

He shook his head and looked her in the eye. She needed to know who he was.  “I was untrustworthy long before that.”

She leaned forward, matching his gaze with a fierce one of her own.  “I don’t believe that.”

“Pixie…” he sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back.

“No,” she cut him off before he could say something else self-deprecating.  He opened his eyes to see what she was going to say next.  “Just because you weren’t trusted, that doesn’t mean you weren’t trustworthy.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done.”  The look he gave her was heartbreaking and she wouldn’t let him get away with thinking that about himself.

“You don’t know what I’ve done.”  She inched forward in her spot, her face closer to his so he couldn’t look away. “I trust you.  You crossed an ocean to help us.  You went against your family to come here.  You saved Manon and August when you could have kept walking. You left on the rooftop when I asked you to even though you didn’t know it was me asking.  You stopped at the gala to help a little girl because she looked sad.  Because that’s who you are.  And I trust you to be honest with me.  I trust you to help Paris.  I trust you to try.  I trust you to protect us.  I trust you to sit out as long as you can stand it.  I trust you to fight until your last breath when you can’t stand it anymore.  I trust you to do what you think is right.  I trust you to trust me.  And I trust you to argue when you disagree with me.  I trust you.”

The room went silent except for Marinette’s deep breathing echoing through the room.  Jason watched her for a few moments letting her words bounce around in his head. He finally lunged forward to pull her into a tight hug and settle her in his lap.  Marinette froze momentarily before she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck.  She gripped him tightly as though she were afraid to let him go, afraid he wouldn’t understand how she felt.  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten worked up. I can’t do that here and I promised you I wouldn’t.”

Marinette shook her head rapidly.  “No!  I asked you about something extremely painful.  I knew it would be horrible for you and I asked anyway.  You had every right.”

“I didn’t.  I’m sorry,” he sighed out.  That was one of the conditions for him staying, not just for them but for himself and for Selina.  He had promised himself and her that he would stay calm and the first day he blew it.  He needed to do better and he knew that.  He couldn’t afford to lose it like that.  No matter what anyone says, no matter what anyone asks about, he couldn’t get angry.  

He sighed at himself and took a calming breath before turning his attention back to Marinette.  He hooked his finger under her chin to get her to look up at him.  When she made eye contact with him, he softened his gaze.  “You had every right to ask.  I can talk about it calmly.  I’m fine,” he tried to assure her with a weak smile.

Marinette looked at him with understanding and nodded at him.  “I can pretend that’s true if you want me to,” she offered quietly.

He furrowed his brow at her, poised to reassure her it really was fine.  That was his standard response, but for some reason it didn’t feel right.  It felt wrong to lie like that with her.  He didn’t want to lie.  He cupped her face and pulled it closer to his.  He rested his forehead on hers and shook his head lightly.  “I don’t want you to pretend with me.”

She looked at him with half lidded eyes and licked her lips.  “I don’t want to either.”

His eyes searched hers as he moved his lips closer to hers.  She closed her eyes and angled her head in preparation.  She jumped when her phone dinged, letting her know she had a text message.  She chuckled lightly and looked down.  “I guess they’re getting impatient.”

Jason changed his path and kissed her forehead, letting his lips linger.  Marinette closed her eyes and leaned into the kiss.  “We better get moving then,” he agreed just as quietly.  “Wouldn’t want the model to have bags under his eyes in his pictures.”

She giggled at the comment and rested her head on his shoulder, making no move to get up.  “So very thoughtful of you.”

“Yep, always thinking of others.  That’s what everyone always says about me,” he joked, hugging her closer again.

She pushed away to look him in the eyes and cup his face.  “I don’t doubt it.”  She rubbed his cheeks with her thumb for a moment before standing up to leave.

Jason shook his head and sighed.  “You really should,” he muttered too quietly for her to hear.

“Now we really better get going before Chloe skins me alive.  And if we don’t leave now we’re going to be late.  It takes a while to get there.”

“Ready to go,” he confirmed, following her out the door.

“Sure you got everything, General Sherman?” she teased him.

“General Sherman?” He looked at her questioningly, pulling the door closed behind him.  He could not for the life of him figure out what the American Civil War had to do with him.

She nodded with a grin.  “It’s like the biggest tree in the world or something?”

He shook his head.  “What is it with you and all the tree nicknames?”

“They’re big and annoying, like you.”  She booped him on the nose and laughed continuing to walk down the hallway.

He stared after her for a moment before something clicked in his mind.  He walked up next to her and leaned down to whisper in her ear.  “I think it’s because you want to climb me like one.” Marinette squeaked and stopped walking. Her cheeks immediately turned deep red that spread to her ears and neck.  He gave her a devilish smirk and kept walking to the elevator.  “You coming?”

Marinette cocked her hip to the side with a smirk that said she knew something he didn’t and knocked on that door she had stopped in front of.

Jason looked at the door and back to her and shook his head.  “And here I was hoping I'd be able to make some more and better moves on you on our trip.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.  “You have stronger moves than coming out in just skintight pants?”

“I do and I'm very excited to show them to you,” he confirmed with a cheeky grin, moving until he was only a hair’s breadth away from her.

She looked up at him and swallowed heavily.  “I’m not sure I’d survive them.”

“Fucking finally!  It’s only like ten feet what the fuck took so long.  Some of us have better things than to do than lay the groundwork for getting fucked by our boyfriends.”  Chloe exclaimed with an amount of exasperation that only she could achieve.

Marinette squeaked again and turned to Jason.  “I swear I didn’t tell them that.”

“I will,” he smirked at her moving past her into the room.

She gave him a halfhearted glare and followed him in.  “Go ahead, but at some point someone should wait for me to agree to be their girlfriend before they start telling people I am.”  She gave Adrien a pointed look.

Adrien jumped up with a scowl, “Hey, no.  It doesn’t count as ‘before’ if we never dated.”

“Take a look at the Ladyblog.  We’ve been dating for five years,” Marinette pointed out with a smirk.

“I meant actual dating,” Adrien pouted, “not fanfiction dating.”

“Luka didn’t tell anyone before… or after,” Alya offered.  “He really didn’t talk about it at all.”

“Bri didn’t tell… oh, no, yeah she did,” Nino added with a grimace.  “Everyone.”

“Looks like Jason is your only hope,” Alya gave smirked.

“Too late for that,” Marinette gave him a pointed look.  Jason shrugged not looking at all repentant and even had the audacity to put his arm around her waist and pull her closer, which Marinette subconsciously leaned in to. “Henry was the only one that asked me and then told people.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t last long, so clearly not a good approach for you.” Alya pointed out.

“Lasted longer than Bri though, so your theory might need some work,” Nino corrected her.

“The problem isn’t the approach,” Chloe chimed in annoyed with the conversation already, “the problem is Marinette.” Alya rounded on Chloe, red in the face and ready to start lecturing, but Chloe continued before she could.  “Her standards suck.  As in she has none.”

“Hey!” Marinette yelped indignantly.  

“She doesn’t date people worthy of Ladybug, let alone Marinette.” Chloe clarified haughtily, pulling out her homework.

Everyone but Jason froze and stared at Chloe. “She’s drunk,” Nino stage whispered to Alya.  “That’s the only explanation.”

“Okay, as godawful as this introduction has been so far…” Marinette spoke up ending the conversation.  “… and it has been.  Let’s do real introductions.  Jason, this is the permanent miraculous team.”  She motioned her arm to indicate the people in the room.  “The drunk one is Chloe.”

“Fuck you, Dupain-Cheng.” Chloe scowled not looking up from her homework.

“I thought that was my job,” Jason commented with a smirk.

“Oh, he’s going to fit in perfectly,” Nino laughed.

“I’m Alya.”  She waved from her spot on the couch.  “The one that looks like he just got in a fight is Nino.  The dork is Adrien.”

“Did you just get in a fight?” Jason asked observing him.  His clothes were rumpled, his hair looked scruffed up, and there looked to be the beginning of a bruise on his arm.

“Kind of.  I said…” Nino started with a wicked smirk.

“Nino, you finish that sentence and I will give you a black eye to complete your look,” Marinette growled at him.

Jason looked down at Marinette in surprise before leaning over to whisper quietly enough that only she could hear, “Did I mention how fucking hot you are?”  Marinette squeaked and turned bright red again.

Adrien crossed the room to shake Jason’s hand with a friendly grin.  “Okay, introductions are done, now let’s focus on the important business before I have to leave.  First, what did you just say?  I haven’t seen her turn that color in years.  Also, a correlated question, he’s already telling people you’re dating?” He waggled his eyebrows at Marinette.  She took a deep breath and let it out loudly in a resigned huff. They were going to ridicule her for the rest of her life over Jason.  Adrien laughed at her and moved his focus over to Jason.  “Good to see you, man.  I’m impressed you were able to find Marinette.”  He eyed Jason’s hand around Marinette’s waist and Marinette’s body language.  He looked up to Jason.  “I ship it.”

Jason grinned smugly at Marinette.  “He ships it,” he pointed out in an innocent voice.

Marinette rolled her eyes.  “He would ship me with Loki.  It doesn’t mean anything.”

Adrien grinned at her and shot her finger guns. “Whatever makes you happy, baby. And Loki is hot.  I ship everyone I like with him.”

Alya pushed him out of the way and stepped in front of Jason.  “Ignore him. He trusts everyone.  You don’t need to worry about him unless you screw up… and then he’ll kill you.”  She stuck her hand out to shake Jason’s.  He looked down at Marinette questioningly.  She shrugged in response.  This wasn’t the worst shovel talk they’d doled out and he was Red Hood, he could handle it.  “We, on the other hand,” she motioned to Chloe and herself, “don’t trust anyone.  We’ll kill you when we think you even might be about to screw up.”

Jason nodded at them.  This was a form of interaction he understood; threats.  “And him?” He motioned to Nino.

“Me?  I provide the alibis.” He answered with a grin.

“One of the most important pieces in the game.” He nodded looking around.  “Another important piece is believability.  People have to believe you would do what you threaten.  That’s where a reputation can help you.  No offense but you guys don’t seem the type.”

“But I am.” Plagg appeared in Jason’s face out of nowhere with a maniacal grin on his face.  

Jason flinched back almost falling on his ass, pulling Marinette behind him as he moved.  “What the ever living FUCK is that?” He yelled out.

The room erupted in laughter except for Plagg who continued staring him down.  Marinette stood between the two with an apologetic smile and helped him straighten up. “Sorry about him.  I’d say he doesn’t mean it but… the dinosaurs would say otherwise… if they were still alive… and could talk.”

“Jesus Christ, Marinette.  You were over there forever.  Did you explain anything to him?”  Chloe groaned.

“I was trying to explain things to but then someone,” she looked pointedly at all of them, “kept interrupting.”

“And just exactly what were we interrupting?” Adrien asked waggling his eyebrows.

Marinette gave him a deadpan look for a few seconds waiting for him to figure it out.  “Explaining things.  I just fucking said that, dumbass.”

“Excuse me, but would we discuss the fucking floating demon cat, please?” Jason interrupted keeping his eyes glued to the floating creature.

“Please don’t call him that.  It’ll just go to his head.  We won’t hear the end of it for centuries.”  Tikki floated up near Jason but at a respectful distance.  “I’m Tikki.  He’s Plagg. That is Wayzz.  That is Trixx.  And that is Pollen.” She said, pointing out each of the kwami in turn as they hovered over their wielders.  “We’re kwami.”

“Right.  That explains exactly nothing.” Jason scowled.  “Is there someone who can use real words to explain what is going on?”

Marinette laughed and pulled him over to the sitting area, letting him take the arm chair while she perched on its arm.  “Kwami are what give us our powers.  Each one represents a concept.  Each concept comes with powers related to that concept. Pollen is the kwami of subjection. She can knock people out.  Wayzz is the kwami of protection.  He creates an impenetrable force field.  Trixx is the kwami of Illusion.  He can cast… illusions.  That one’s rather self-explanatory really.  Plagg, the demon cat, is the kwami of destruction. He can be asshole, like his owner.” Twin heys rang out from Adrien and Plagg, which were completely ignored.  “But his power is he can cast bad luck and he destroys things.  Tikki is the kwami of creation.  She has the power of luck and can create things.  There are more, but those are the five main kwami used currently.”

“Okay…” he drew out the last sound of the word, not sure how to process all that.

Marinette grimaced at him.  “It gets worse so I just… want you to be prepared.”  He scowled at her.  Worse than their last conversation didn’t sound good.  “The kwami are tied to pieces of jewelry called a miraculous.  If you possess the miraculous, you can control them.  That’s why the villain is trying to get our miraculous.  If he gets them, he controls them.  Tikki’s and Plagg’s miraculous can be used together to grant a wish, a physics defying, reality destroying wish.  It can reset time.  It can destroy worlds.  A couple hundred years ago, someone got them.  He wished for immortality.”

Jason watched her apprehensively.  “He created the Pits.”

“No, we created the Pits.  He wished for them.” Plagg hissed.  “But he wasn’t too specific with his wish,” he cackled as he said it.

“Making a wish is like making a deal with a leprechaun. There’s always a catch.” Marinette clarified.  “He got immortality, but at a price.”

“That’s why we’re letting you stay lover boy,” Alya added.

“I already used lover boy,” Marinette interrupted.

“Fuck, yeah that was too easy anyway.  Don Juan?”

“Not yet.”

“Not ever.” She said pointedly and turned to Jason. “That’s why we’re letting you stay Don Juan,” she continued.  “Because the Pit restores your health, but weakens your ability to link to a miraculous or its powers.”

“It means Hawkmoth shouldn’t have as powerful of a pull on you, should an akuma ever land on you,” Nino added.

“It also means you can’t ever wield a miraculous,” Marinette said apologetically.

“Was that a consideration?” Jason exclaimed.

“No!” “Maybe.” “Duh!” Alya, Adrien, and Chloe answered at the same time.  Alya and Adrien looked at each other in surprise while Chloe rolled her eyes.

“We never discussed that!” Alya raised her voice in annoyance.

“It wouldn’t have been the worst idea,” Adrien offered weakly.

“It would have been the obvious next step. If he’s here to help us and he has training and Marinette trusts him, which of fucking course she does, of course we would have given him one.” Chloe explained.

Jason leaned over to Marinette so the others wouldn’t hear him.  “I see what you mean about Manon and Chloe.”  

Marinette giggled and nodded.  “It’s only a matter of time before she adds the cursing in too. She probably does just not in front of me or her mom.”

“And what are you two kids giggling about over there?” Adrien asked with a knowing smirk.

“Fuck you.  I don’t giggle.” Jason grunted.

“Too manly for that.  I only laugh in a manly way,” Nino’s voice lowered to imitate Jason.

The rest of the room started chortling in terribly concealed laughter.  Jason narrowed his eyes and pointed at him, “Yes I am.” Causing the rest of the room to give up on their attempts to hide their laughter.  “Okay, so what I’m hearing is I don’t get one of those magical girl sequences.”

Marinette laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “I mean, you could always pretend. Nobody’s stopping you from creating your own amazing sequence when you put on your suit.”

He smirked and pulled her closer to him. “What kind of sequence were you thinking of exactly?”  Marinette squeaked and turned red.  She buried her head in her hands making him laugh.

“An incredibly fucking boring one considering she mentioned putting your clothes on.” Chloe remarked.

“I’m creative.  I could make it work.” Jason assured her with a wink.  Marinette groaned and bent in half, trying to force her face, still covered by her hands, into her legs while the rest of the room laughed.

Chloe eyed him for a moment before nodding and going back to her homework.  “I’m sure that’s true, off brand Robin Hood.”

“Are we letting him suit up though?” Alya asked. “Do we want Hawkmoth knowing one of Gotham’s vigilantes is running around?  Not to mention, his identity isn’t protected by magic.  If someone knows Jason Todd from Gotham is in Paris and Red Hood from Gotham is in Paris, people will be able to put things together. They aren’t stupid.”

“That’s a good point, babe.  I don’t think we can.” Nino agreed.

“We’re not letting him run around at all.” Marinette’s voice was so firm, the note of finality so clear Jason did a double take. “You don’t have magic to protect you and we can’t give you a suit.  You can’t be in the fights.”

“I’ve fought worse things than you can imagine,” Jason said slowly.

“I have an incredible imagination, but I don’t have to use it for this.  I just need my memory,” she said coldly.  The rest of the room watched her with sympathy, knowing where her mind went.  “Because I can remember devastation.  I can remember people torn to pieces.  I can remember people crushed.  I can remember people drowning.  I can’t remember you like that.”

“I can take care of myself.  I’ve fought Supers.  I’ve fought assassins.  I’ve come back from the god damned dead,” he assured her, starting to understand where her objection was coming from.

“Join the club.  You aren’t special.” Chloe snarked.

“But I did it without a magic suit.  I’ve probably done almost as much as you all and without a magic power up to do it.” Jason argued.

“Power ups are a different thing.” Nino threw in. Marinette and Jason glared at him. He held his hands up in surrender.  “Just saying.”

“I can do more than just hide,” he pointed out, begging her to let him do more.

“And you will, but not in a fight.” Marinette responded, her eyes pleading with him to understand.

“He’s going to need to suit up if he’s going to train us while we’re in suits though.  Jason Todd can’t just be hanging around the miraculous team.  That would put him squarely on Hawkmoth’s most wanted list.  Right next to Marinette.”  Adrien pointed out.

Jason’s head whipped over to her and Marinette groaned. “The fuck?”

“It’s nothing,” she tried to assure him, but the look he gave her confirmed he wouldn’t believe it.

She sighed and shot Adrien a glare.  “Fine.  Hawkmoth likes to target me.  Has from the start.  We have no idea why.  I would say Lila, she’s the only one we know of who actively dislikes the Marinette side of me, but it started before she appeared in Paris and we know Hawkmoth is a man.  We checked her National ID and school records.  She definitely wasn’t here.  We don’t think he knows my identity, otherwise he would have targeted me more. So it’s just one of those fun mysteries that makes life interesting.  Because otherwise our lives would be so boring.”

Jason stared at her with an overwhelming need to protect her burning in his gut.  It wasn’t just as a hero that she was dealing with this.  She had to deal with it as a civilian too.  No fucking wonder she was so fucking over this.  But since she wouldn’t let him fight with them, the best way to help her right now was to train her and to do that, he would have to come up with a new identity.  “Red hood can’t run around with you guys and train you, but maybe another hero can.”

“Hell no.  We’re barely letting you stay, and that is still probationary.  We sure as hell aren’t letting another hero in.” Alya growled.

“No, I meant I’ll have to be someone else,” Jason explained.

“I still don’t want you in akuma battles,” Marinette said carefully.

“We can discuss that later,” he assured her.  He knew why she was objecting, for the same reason he would object to her fighting against the Joker.  He didn’t doubt her abilities, but even the idea made his lungs feel like they were slowly disintegrating.  And worrying about him would distract her during a fight, which he also couldn’t allow.  But he was sure he could convince her to let him help with crowd control, saving innocent bystanders.  He just needed a bit of time and the right approach.  “But for training and patrol and investigations, another identity would help.”  He was specifically thinking about when he was breaking into different places, but she didn’t need to know that.  But the way Chloe was eying him, he had a feeling she knew what he meant.

“Like Red Bat?” Nino suggested.

“No, nothing bat related, just to be safe.” Jason shook his head.

“Oooh, Red Cat!” Adrien exclaimed, bouncing in his seat at the idea.

“Hell no.  I would never hear the end of it.”

“Red Turtle?” Nino suggested with a smile. “Raphael?”

“Oooh, Red Fox!” Alya offered loudly.  She froze almost immediately realizing what that would be.  “No wait… forget I said that.”

There was a pause as people thought of a name. “Don’t look at me,” Chloe spoke up without looking up from her homework.  “I’m not sharing my name.  I’m the only Bee in town.”

“A name can wait.  We’ll need a suit before a name.  I think I can come up with a few ideas, unless you have one already.”  Jason shook his head and Marinette bounced with anticipation.  “Yay!  I never get to design hero suits.”  She pulled him up to standing so she could examine his body with a critical eye, thinking of designs that would work with his body.  Jason suddenly felt exposed as he circled him with no hint of a blush as she stared at him and for the first time, he was positive she was not thinking about him in any remotely sexual way.  He scrunched up his face.  He didn’t like it at all.

“Okay,” Adrien interjected.  She’s going to be gone to the world for a while.  “So, back to the important business.  Second question; is your brother single?”

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[legends-live-in-memories]

“How Did All This Happen?”- A Memoire by one Marinette Dupain-Cheng 1

Soooooo I decided to write this. much longer than the other things i posted, also very tonally different. I will definitely continue that other fic tho. I was just brainstorming and now this exists. Yeah.

 without further ado

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

People Fucked Up and Now It’s All Marinette’s Mess to Clean Up I

This was not how Marinette planned for her night to go. Granted, she also could not envision it going literally any other way. The woes of making a deal with the hell-raiser himself, John Constantine, she supposes. She truly hoped Adrien was having a much better time than her with his cousin in London. After the circus that was the past three years, he deserved some reprieve, even if it was with his bratty doppelganger. Regardless, Marinette. Was. Not. Pleased. No matter how many times she thinks over her plan, recalculates every step and decision, she could not fathom this night ending well for her, or anyone really, but mostly her. And no amount of old Ladybug or Guardian luck could help her. Now, if one were to wonder what kind of tragedy had befallen Marinette on this disgraceful night, a brief history of the last three months could enlighten such a person. Or better yet, let’s start at the beginning. The Real Beginning.

So, things existed. Obviously. First there was nothing, and then, something. And as more things began to exist, as new schools of knowledge and concepts and ideas began to, well, exist, Kwamis formed as well. Each Kwami was the physical manifestation of these ideas or abstracts. Creation was the first, coupled with Destruction. And as more things began to exist, more things began needing to be protected. Thus, the Kwami of Protection. This went on. For a while. Soon thereafter there were Kwamis of all types. Jubilation, Time, Strength, etc, etc, and etc. Now these Kwamis did not linger in one spot. They roamed across the far stretches of existence and interacted with the life they found.

Some Kwamis decided to form a magical pact which intergalactic historians would later dub the Emotional Electromagnetic Spectrum. Sounds familiar? The Kwamis themselves were completely blissfully unaware of this title, lest they would have explained to these beings, Maltusians they were called, that they were not in fact, electromagnetic but more so a part of the Powers that Be. Kind of. But this side-story involves the formation of a few universally known Lantern Corps, and that is a barrel of monkeys our exasperated narrator does not want to touch with a ten-foot pole. Or ever.

Other Kwamis, who stuck close to what would become known as the Milky Way, were discovered by a mage who granted them the ability to interact with humans. This mage— and Marinette was silently cursing his descendants, herself included, for if it weren’t for this absolute mad lad, none of the subsequent events of this night would have transcribed—had bound the Kwamis to magical jewelry called Miraculouses. An interesting side effect of these Kwamis being bound to the miraculouses was that the wearer could call upon the powers of the Kwamis for their own usage. The mage feared what could become of the world if this kind of power became so easily accessible, so he created the Order of the Guardians. The Order was dedicated to training young mages to protect, wield and harvest the powers of the miraculouses. The Order swore to true neutrality; wishing not to impose their will on one side or the other, to maintain balance and to not upset the natural order of the world. 

This went surprisingly well for a few millennia, that is, of course, if you ignore the sinking of Atlantis, the extinction of the dinosaurs, the Black Plague, the creation of the Lazarus Pits, Pompeii, to name a few completely egregious instances—not necessarily in order of course—and well, the point stands that it could have been astronomically worse. Until it was.  

One young mage and Guardian in training had caused the downfall of almost the entire Order of the Guardians. All the centuries of history, teachings, artifacts and even the people at the head temple, were lost to the calamity. Dozens of Miraculous Boxes were lost, destroyed in the fray. The Kwamis themselves were relatively unaffected, being immortal and all, but the magical jewelry binding them to the earth were broken, thus those Kwamis were lost to mankind once again. Only one singular box, and the young mage himself, survived. The new Guardian of one miraculous box was left to scour the earth in solitude. Well, about as much solitude one could have with 17 pocket gods as company. The fact that the only box that survived was missing two more miraculouses caused the already stressed guardian to grey further. But that tidbit of information would be a problem for later. And for someone else entirely too. Oh joy.

But before that sequence of events, aptly named “Marinette’s Trial by Fire,” however, the young guardian had a couple more life mistakes to make before he reached his internal quota apparently. Rather than travel to another sector of the Order on the other side of the earth, this young mage stumbled upon another organization, one similar in architecture and hierarchy but a pendulum swing in the total moral opposite. Yes, that’s right, the guardian found himself upon the League of Shadows, led by Ra’s Al Ghul in his endeavor of global cleansing; by acts of ecoterrorism, but who sweats the small stuff, right? There, the young guardian, who adopted the name of Wang Fu, met his first love Ming Hong and they had a son. The son had a daughter he named Mei. Now Mei was only a few weeks younger than Ra’s Al Ghul’s grandson, Damian. Now with an appropriate heir, and someone to procreate with said heir, Ra’s Al Ghul gained a special interest in the small Fu family that originally flew under the radar of the League. 

Now this is where things continue to go downhill, but not until much, much later in this story. Ra’s Al Ghul, despite his radical ambitions, was particularly good at playing the long game and understood when he couldn’t accomplish a task directly. This being said, he recognized that, due to prolonged exposure to the Lazarus Pits, his soul could not bear the strain of being a wielder of a miraculous and so he waited. Waited until a suitable heir was sired and could copulate with an heir to the guardian of the miraculous box, desiring to create a bloodline of genetically suitable successors and wielders who were loyal to him and his cause. 

Ra’s ordered for the Fu family to have a place on his court and ordered for Mei Fu to be trained in mastering the secrets of the miraculous. And master she did. By age 6 she was fluent in the coded language of the magical text, or as fluent a 6 year old can be in any language, and she had mastered 7 out the 17 miraculouses. By age 10 she was as skilled as the grandson of the Demon Head in combat and could handle simultaneous wear of 3 miraculouses. Her training, however, had to be put on hold as somebody thought usurping the Demon Head was of the utmost importance that glorious Tuesday and staged a coup. She wished Deathstroke had lost more than an eye that day, but a girl can dream she supposes. Mei and her grandfather were separated from the rest of the League and journeyed west. Somehow they ended up in Paris, France. After one too many run ins with the authorities, Mei was removed from her grandfather, who was deemed too unfit to support her. It was a miracle he wasn’t deported. 

Mei was put into protective custody where she resided until she was 13. Recently adopted, and thoroughly done with the plebeians of her daily encounters, Mei Fu became Marinette Dupain-Cheng, daughter of the best bakers in Paris. All was well and good for the new Dupain-Cheng until the start of the new school year. 

She met her grandfather again. And apparently he had a job for her and her soon to be new partner.

Hawkmoth, that bitch, had somehow acquired the two last surviving miraculouses and the only surviving grimoire and thought domestic terrorism was on the agenda for the next few years. Why? Because investing in a family therapist was too much of an inconvenience for local recluse, Gabriel McFucking Agreste, Marinette would shortly learn. 

After dealing with all of that and juggling between her reignited guardian training, and ‘normal’ girl life—because her parents don’t know that she’s a magical girl in the making—, Marinette was ready to sleep for a thousand years. Or commit murder. Whichever gave her enough serotonin to complete her current passion project. But, alas, no rest for the totally-over-it or however that saying goes. Because after declaring Paris safe once again, sending off her brother-in-arms, Adrien Agreste, to family in London (marginally decent but anything beats the abusive prick of a sperm donor), in waltz one drunken John Constantine.

Ah yes. Him. That absolute bastard who doesn’t deserve nice things in life. That guy.

This unpleasantry approached Master Fu and Marinette, who has been regulated to errand-girl in lieu of training, with a job that he proclaimed that only one blessed with magic, and specifically NOT connected to the Justice League could accomplish. Apparently, a group called the Cult of the Kobra resided on Santa Prisca and was in possession of a dangerous magical artifact that had been the backbone of their organization for years. Constantine came to them asking them for assistance in retrieving it as the Justice League could not interfere in the Caribbean due to new UN legislation. It was a mission of utmost urgency for he feared the cult leader, Kobra himself, was planning on enacting a ritual that could bring calamity to Earth. Which is just what the doctor ordered. Not. In exchange, he agreed to add to her magical training as while master Fu was good, he was still young when he ran away from his problems the first time and thus was limited in his magical knowledge.

That was three months ago. Three months of planning, training, and convincing her parents that letting her go on an extended retreat for an undetermined amount of time with her mostly absent biological grandfather was totally reasonable for the seventeen year old to do. Like, come on. She’s almost old enough to drink, almost ready for university and has been praised for her independence and self-sufficiency for years. She’ll be fine is what she told her parents and she was almost able to convince herself of that too. She would be perfectly fine. Right?

Wrong.

Marinette was anything but fine. She was stressed, she was tired and she was abso-fucking-lutely pissed at anything that even breathed in her direction. Why? Well that brings us back to the beginning of the story when everything on this mission did not go according to plan. So here she was along what was once upon a time the eastern coastline of Santa Prisca. Oh and look. The Junior Justice League has arrived.

Purrrrfect. 

Some one asked for a taglist. Ask and ye shall receive

@deathwishy @neakco  @ virtualreading  @f-rget-lt @your-resident-chicken-nugget

[jadelynlace]

a dead woman tells no tales / vikings fiction

series based on Lady Lazarus, a poem by Sylvia Plath. 

chapter three / catch up here

synopsis: He left you for dead and now you’re back.

author’s note: the one small detail the reader has, is that she is a red head. also! as apparent in the last chapter, Ivar’s canon dick-can’t-get-wet-problem doesn’t exist. It can go fuck off with the canon ending in my humble opinion. 

pairing: Ivar x Reader

✄

“You lie,” Ivar says suddenly, shoving your body to place a strong force of distance between you. “Freydis loves me,” Even at his small attempts to prove his own mind to work in his favor, you still catch yourself passing another laugh.

“And do you love her?” You answer, a slick smile spreading through your lips as the amber waves go over your shoulders. “Because lying with another woman as a man who has wed does not sound like love,” Ivar looms over you as you speak, twisting his torso to peak a menacing glare through how he holds on to the sorrow you’ve suddenly stuck him with. His hand grabs your throat at such a speed your flinch is caught far after he has his grip on you.

“You are lying,” Ivar spits again. “You lie because you can not deal with what is truthful,” You feel the pressure along your airways tighten, the hum of the faint dark ink creeping along your vision as Ivar watches your eyes flutter. Suddenly his hand loosens and your mouth opens to pull in as much oxygen as your lungs will take.There’s a quick spark of fear spreading to a fire through your body as you crawl away from him; you know this time Ivar will not wait to call for help because he will ensure you are left at the gates of Valhalla. Scurrying back to your garments, it’s quick work to tie your dress haphazardly as you ready yourself to flee from him. Ivar’s eyes are still stuck on you with such distaste for your words it only makes you fonder, desperate to twist the knife further and tell him more of what you know.

“When that child is born you will see it resembles nothing of you. The only lie that I have ever spoken was that I did not love you. I have loved you Ivar, and I have had to deal with that,” You can hear his roar as you leave the hall, the shatters of broken ceramics not soon after.

*

Ivar hovers over a plain of disillusioned fate, the promises of returning to a woman who claimed her love for a monster like him torn from his crippled hands. His mood sours, even far past what he was normally known to hold as the meal around them takes no interest of his. Chatter from Hvitserk in one ear, chatter from his men in the other. Ivar had yet to look up to see you standing.

“Yes?” Hvitserk says, a faint turn of his head to your figure. Ivar’s eyes peel briefly as he flinches a whisper of fear through his bones from his spot. You place the dagger on the table that belongs to Ivar. “How did you get that?” Hvitserk questions, reaching for the steel blade that you pull back.

“Your hair still curls like it did when you were young,” You voice comes, the meal halfway towards Hvitserk’s lips stopping short. “It is fine that you do not remember me, I would not blame you. Have you not told your brother the tale, Ivar?” You speak, turning your head to look back at him. He is set to sail at the sun’s rise and you will swim behind the boats if you have to. Ivar just laughs, the ring of his amusement falling short with the snap of you wrist, the blade flying to piece the wooden table next to his hand.

“Leave,” He yells. You grab the lone cup of mead on your passage out of the room, drowning the concoction past your lips before tossing the container along the floor.

The moon is high when Hvitserk finds you, silver light past your cheek bones as it dances off of his blonde waves. He studies your body from where you’ve seated yourself, the rocks catching your figure as you try to keep the tears at bay. Ivar did not deserve them then, and he does not now. You would charge him for every droplet of salted water, every scar, every broken jagged twist of your heart if it was possible. The words in his voice that take up your mind, his touch, how tightly he held you. The men you have killed so that you would not simply slaughter him.

“What did Ivar do?” His voice beckons softly, curling around your cloak and lacing with the amber on your shoulders. The lapping water takes your voice from you briefly as you arrange the words on your lips to tell him of the past faults that only you and Ivar knew of.

“When you heat a blade over flame, it pierces more smoothly. Did you know that?” There is no answer given to you as Hvitserk shifts to seat himself where you are. “It is what he did not do. Do you remember the young girl who used to pull him in the wagon? The young woman who would challenge him in the woods when you would practice alongside him?”

“Yes,” Hvitserk answers. “She went missing—left,”

“Ah, that was the tale they told,” You sigh. “You know better of that, do you not Hvitserk?” You catch the way he looks at you, puzzled brow as he absorbs the sight before him. “I never went missing, Hvitserk. I fell, dueling Ivar and he could not help me up but he spoke of getting help. He never came back,” Your words fell past your mouth like tightly coiled ropes, thunking weight on to the ground, unraveling to be picked up and climbed. “I was there until travelers found me, and I went with them,” You added as Hvitserk sighed, his disappointment taking hold of your dropped ropes and latching on.

“And you think he has changed since then?” He asks, his question hanging heavily in the air.

“People do not change, Hvitserk. The seasons may, but people do not. I longed for an answer to why he would not return, and perhaps I will never get one,” You said. You knew Ivar was still under there, under the look of madness, the look of evil. The man that held you last night, making love, was the man you knew. The shocked eyes of being told he was unfavored by his queen were of a new person, failure to read even the simplest scenarios—that was not Ivar. He was not a blind man, nor a stupid one, but you wished for one day perhaps he could be—he could be told of something and simply accept it. He was not in love with Freydis. He was not surprised you came back. But he was sorry that he left you there to die. Crawling from ash as a walking miracle of the skin he dreamt of, rotting on those rocks as he could do nothing with his useless body to save you.

“You will sail back with us,” Hvitserk suddenly states as he bends to stand.

“Hvitserk,” You speak as he halts to turn back to you, brows raised in expectancy for the next question across your lips. “I have been sailing with you since you left Kattegat,” You admit as his face churns to catch where you have slithered through a lie within your words. “I never left, that was only the tale,”

*

Birth of Freydis’ son chimes through the town, up over the valleys and down through the trees, squawking between the ravens, and croaking between the toads. The town rejoices for their new prince upon the return of Ivar and his men, his attempts to act in celebration are only caught to be faulty by your eyes. What comes next are the whispers of Ivar’s unacceptance, his torment of throwing them out because the son carried a skin tone not of Ivar’s and not of Freydis’, eyes deep and dark and the near newly reborn spitting image of the baker’s son. Ivar wanted the man hanged, spread wide and pulled between layers of flesh for all to see. He wanted to pull the blonde hair in Freydis’ braid and choke her own airways. He wanted that bastard child left to the wolves.

Your meal was adorned before you, petty pickings from your cutlery on account of your absent appetite. Even if Ivar knew the truth now, it still did not make you feel any higher. You knew you were broken, but you would never doubt you were powerful—you had destroyed yourself, and it had been glorious. The pounding on the door halts you but you leave it as minuscule in your peripheral visions of things left of importance. You add wood to your fire and put out the last candles, collecting the scraps of your nightly meal to toss to the wildlife that litter the area past the great hall. Through all of your routine the pounding did not cease. With a pull of your shaw you cross the threshold and pull the door from its home, and the guard’s eyes sparkle in the light of the full moon.

“Your king has requested you,” He says. Nodding to the man, you follow his beckoning towards the quarters that hold Ivar’s throne.

“I figured you may haunt me, tell me that you were right to spite me,” Ivar’s voice says as you enter the room. His back is turned to you, speaking his words into the yellow fire that crackles but you can not detect any movement on his body. His voice comes across as dead, so brokenly mundane that you even can tell he makes no effort to hide what he’s feeling.

“Hvitserk never did handle his mead well,” You find yourself saying, the brief smile you crack at how untimely he must have spoken of your return on the ships with them, and how closely you had stayed apparent now. “And I can say all of that if that is what you wish Ivar,” His chuckle calls through your mind as you cross in through the room, padding behind him. “What became of them?” You asked.

“Nothing, as of yet,” Ivar says back all to bluntly for your favor.

“What would you like to become of them?” You ask from behind him. “Because while you have motive to hurt them Ivar, I do not,” You sang from where you were, crossing hands over his shoulders as you level your head next to his, your arm stretching out before both of you towards the hearth. “The burn of a flame can be put out, it can be controlled,” You whisper as you move your arm to the swords on the high wall. “A lot of blood comes from very specific places, but slice precisely and they take time to perish,” Your lips curl by his ear as your breath fans across the hair that has crawled his jaw, tracing your nail along his chin. “The meat of a mortal tastes the same to a wolf,” You add as you catch his jaw to look to you. “Whatever horror you want me to gift to them, Ivar, I will do it,” You spit as his eyes watch you. “You know how simple it is to break a bone,” Ivar’s tongue passes over his lips after you go quiet, your offer taking up space in his mind of the torment he could let you run madly free with. How there was no limit to what you now knew to do because you had spent far too long dreaming up how you would hurt Ivar for leaving you under that sky. You watch his chest heave quickly, a slow smile spreading over his mouth as his mind wanders. “You can bathe in their blood and show your people that there is no one who should cross Ivar the Boneless,”

He had never been this quiet for this long in the time you have known him. Ivar’s eyes mimic the oceans he has sailed for his path to ruthlessness as he stares at you, dancing through the shadows on your cheeks as you level yourself into his lap.

“Can I watch?” Is all he asks.

“You answer my one question, and you can watch anything you desire,” You say as he nods, sinking slightly from you as you sit just inches from his heart. “Why did you not come back?” You whisper, willing your voice not to crack under the extent of getting the chance to be gifted the one answer you ever wanted, but you are of no success. You eyes line with tears and although you need to blink them away, a stray droplet trickles across your cheek. It’s caught by the pad of Ivar’s thumb against your jaw as he looks back at you.

“You were gone when I came back,” Ivar simply answers.

“Now you are the one who lies,”

“You were,” Ivar repeated. “You jumped from that ledge, do you not remember?”

Tagged:

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[wellthatjusthappend]

Terry is shocked to discover that Jason is Bruce's mate. Jason hasn't aged a day due to the pit. Bruce is so.... Old. Jason doesn't take kindly to McGinnis or his actions and attitude towards his Alpha. Omega rage is nothing to mess with.

I love stories where the pit has longer lasting effects like this. Here you go!

Terry accidentally drops his favorite mug when he sees them. 

The pair turn towards him, but Terry can’t think anything past ‘whatthehellwhatthehellwhatthehell-!’.

“Damn, B,” the Omega in Bruce’s lap snickers, “Black hair, blue eyes… you still have such a fucking type.”

“Jason,” Bruce repremans, without any real force behind it, the old man’s eyes staying warily on Terry.

“What the hell?!” the words finally make it past his mouth.

“Ooh, baby Alpha, too,” the Omega- Jason, he supposes- looked amused as he scents the air.

Slag it all, the guy was way too young. He couldn’t be much older than a teen, early twenties at most. He knew the jokes that people made about rich old Alpha’s, but-

“I thought you were better than this,” Terry snarled, “Slagging some Omega kid? What the hell Old Man?”

“Hey-”

“What have I told you about staying out of matters that don’t concern you?” snapped Bruce.

“Except that’s exactly what Batman does,” Terry shot back, “Now get your dirty paws off him-”

“Yeah, no, none of that,” Jason knocked off Terry’s hand and flashed his teeth when the Alpha came closer.

“Whatever he’s paying you-” Terry started, and then abruptly found himself staring at the ceiling as his feet were kicked out from under him and he was slammed to the ground faster than he could process.

“Listen up, kid,” the Omega growled, “lesson 1, I do what I want. I don’t go outta my way to please anybody, especially not B.”

Terry tried to retort, but the knee on his chest made it difficult to breathe. The boy smelled crazy good, with a slightly acidic undertone that seemed a little familiar, but Terry ignored it as best as he could. 

“Jason…”

“Oh you know it’s true. Anyway, lesson 2, I’ve been with B longer than you’ve been alive, so respect your elders, brat. Also, considering how much you look like B on closer inspection, I’m about to get real pissed if someone doesn’t explain things soon.”

He had a Gotham accent, but he talked a bit funny… like an old person, actually. Then there was what he was implying-

“Amanda Waller,” Bruce said simply, “He’s a partial clone.”

What?

“Hag still alive? Remind me why I’m not allowed to put a bullet in her head?” Jason made a face, easing up Terry and letting him up.

“It’s the same reason it’s always been,” said Bruce, grabbing his cane and standing stiffly to head to the monitors.

“Bastard,” Jason muttered, but there was no real heat behind it. 

“Who are you?” Terry asked, rubbing his chest ruefully, “And how old are you really?”

“B’s second partner after Dickie,” Jason said with a grin, nodding towards the uniform in the case that stood apart from the other’s that had always seemed like more of a memorial so Terry had never dared to ask about. “62 this year, not that my fresh face shows it.”

“Wha-?” Terry gaped, his thoughts screeching to a halt. That’s not what he was expecting. 

Jason grinned at his reaction.

Quickly Terry regrouped and reexamined him from his scent, to his lack of visible age, to the case, to the slightly unearthly green hugh to his eyes…

“Lazarus Pit?” Terry guessed.

“Got it in one,” Jason snapped his fingers in a gesture Terry only saw in old movies, “took a dip when I was 15 after B got me blown up and been like this ever since.”

“Uh…” Terry winced, not really knowing what to say to that.

“So no need to come defend my honor, haven’t had that in a long time,” Jason said with amusement.

“That’s good, I guess,” Terry said hesitantly.

“B’s a decent mate when he isn’t being a total asshole,” Jason shrugged, a softer look flickering across his face before it turned to a wicked grin, “Old Man still fucks like a demon though.”

“I don’t want to know that, he’s practically my dad,” Terry complained. 

“Heh, welcome to the family, then I guess,” Jason grinned and ruffled his hair.

[gunpowdville]

i just saw a few of your posts about pre mechanization, and i would LOVE to hear more. i care this man so much and your thoughts on him are extremely choice!!

AH FINALLY I HAVE CONVERTED SOMEONE TO THE PRE-DRUMBOT BRAINROT!! 

yes I am extremely happy to scream about the love of my life Brian M. Lazarus thank you so much for asking!!!

So, first things first, I AM in the process of writing two things about my beloved pre-drumbot, at least one of which will hopefully be finished soon! One of them is more of a character study type thing that tracks his life from before he was mechanized up through his final death. It’s kind of just... my thoughts about both pre-drumbot and drumbot turned into a vaguely narrative format?? I posted something with one of my favorite lines from it so far earlier.  But I am ALSO working on rewriting Brian’s entire backstory and fleshing out both it and him some more. I’m really excited about both of these things and I hope people like them once they’re done. 

BUT FOR NOW: some of my Pre-Drumbot Thoughts, because he’s a bastard and I love him very much.

- he’s extremely farsighted, like he can read a sign that’s fifteen feet away but if you put something right in front of him he has not a fucking clue what it is

- he wears glasses because of this, but he constantly forgets he needs them.

-he doesn’t believe in magic, he thinks there’s a logical and reasonable explanation for everything and he doesn’t see the point in dreaming about things that will most likely just leave you disappointed

- He never lies. He honestly can’t see the point in telling people what they want to hear or trying to deceive them because they’ll have to learn the truth eventually and so why not... just say it? He’s extremely blunt and has absolutely NO filter for what comes out of his mouth. He’s such a bitch I love him. 

- he is NOT a people person, but he hates being alone. 

- he has a crippling fear of losing what good things he has and then forgetting all about them, because it happened to him once before. 

- he has a wandering mind, but when he sets it on something he becomes extremely hyperfocused and will not rest until he gets that thing done or whatever.

- he drinks strong black coffee and strong black coffee only. He often has to be reminded that water is something he needs to live. 

- he likes to feel like he’s in control, he needs to know how everything works and how to take it apart and put it back together, otherwise he starts panicking. He hates not knowing. 

- he actually has no idea how to handle his own emotions. If there’s physical damage, sure he knows how to fix it, he’s got that. But if it’s emotional, he’s completely lost. And he can’t stand it. Because, like I said, he likes being in control.

- he is an Ace of Sexual

- he doesn’t like being touched without warning. 

- he has a cat! it followed him home one day and he was just like. why not. he talks to it when he’s trying to work through a problem, bounces ideas off of it.

- he drums his fingers on any available surface and hums constantly. He doesn’t realize he does it. 

- he looks somewhat like the Brian we know, but he has darker hair, is a bit broader and stockier, and has bright green eyes. I do not know why I think this but I have such a clear image of him in my head. 

- he makes a great pillow. very soft with a bit of chub.(look i just. this is important.)

- he’s married!!!! he has a tiny trans redhead husband named Logan who paints and I love him with all of my heart. He dies. 

I KNOW i have more but right now my brain isn’t fully working so you’ll have to wait til I post one of the fics or something but. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING ABOUT PRE-DRUMBOT!!!! He means so much to me I am happy to scream about him whenever and am willing to go into more detail about him or anything about him at any time!!!

I hope this was good? Thank you!!!

[bluboothalassophile]

Down With Gotham

The city was in ruination, the places were burning, the bodies were falling, the streets were painted red with blood, and he looked at the monster who was responsible for the carnage. A Lazarus Pit enhanced human, revived from a point of death, returned to life, uncontrollable, rabid, monster who had been tagged and set free upon the public. He hated that creature! It wasn’t even human.

Levelling his weapon on the man before him he prepared to kill the creature.

“NO!” his father-in-law and commander shouted shoving his wrists up which had the shot going up and wild. The monster looked stunned as Gordon shoved him aside. “Get Out Of Here Jason!”

The monster took a step towards them and Dick struggled to re-aim his weapon. Gordon though shoved him back shouting again for Jason to go, which had the monster nodded as he took off into the ruins of what remained.

“What the hell Jim!” he shouted as he shoved his father-in-law aside. “I had him!”

“You Are Not Killing Him!” Jim shouted shoving him back.

“He’s a monster!” Dick shouted as he was pinned against the remnants of a wall.

“He’s Your Brother!” Jim shouted back. “And That Man Has Done More For These People Than We Ever Could!” Jim snapped.

“H-H-He’s what? Not possible,” he whispered.

“The Outlaws are the only truly neutral party in this forsaken city, they take jobs that no one can or will, from babysitting to hits, people can’t come to the police they go to the Outlaws! Doesn’t matter your work, your profession, or the job, you got a problem you take it to them! Pimp beating the shit out of hookers, doping them up so they can’t consent, Outlaws handle it,” Jim snapped.

“Garfield…?” Dick sputtered.

“They’re cases to us, but those boys take the jobs, bring safety to the folks asking for safety!”

Dick looked past Jim at the carnage that the monster had unleashed.

“He’s… I’m not… no way!” Dick sputtered. “I’m not related to that!”

“You think you the only bastard Bruce Wayne sired? Difference is, he was sold, or bought, or whatever the fuck is done to the Lazarus enhanced, took a long while for me to figure it out though,” Jim smirked. “I’m not letting you kill your brother.”

~~~*~*~*~~~

Raven looked up when Jason appeared, bloodied and burned, holding his shoulder with a deep scowl on his face as he limped into the small office building. She felt her jaw drop at the sight of the damage, she knew she should ring Leisley or Lian, but she reacted by hurrying towards him, keeping herself in his line of sight as she cursed Roy’s earlier disappearance. Jason growled a bit in pain when she slipped under his arm to take some of the weight, but the larger man staggered on her, which was stunning as she stumbled slightly,

They both found equilibrium though as she guided him to the bathroom.

“Oh Azarath,” she whispered to herself as she inspected the visible damage, knowing that he was likely sporting more injuries beneath Roy’s shirt, and more than her untrained eye could see.

Her hands were shaky as she attempted to sign with him, but he closed his eyes as a ragged breath escaped his lips. Biting her lip, she darted off to grab the meager first aid kit with its safety scissors before she rushed back to the bathroom. Snagging a towel on her way. When she entered the bathroom again Jason was struggling to get out of the dress shirt.

He didn’t see her, and she knew he couldn’t hear her, which had her making him feel her as she purposely made heavy footsteps, he looked tiredly up at her. Setting aside the kit she went to work undressing him, that was easy for her, and once he was down to skin, she started cleaning up the blood. His head fell back as he sighed and let her work.

Cleaned up she knew he had been a bad fight. Satisfied he wasn’t going to bleed out on her though she ran to the phone and rang for Leislie’s clinic.

~~~*~*~*~~~

Roy looked up when Jim was coming towards him.

“He was alive,” Jim stated, which was enough to have Roy sagging on the ruins.

“Thank the gods,” he muttered. “I managed to get a few people out, Diana and Kori took care of most the women and children.”

“That’s a relief,” Jim muttered.

“I’m going to go find him,” Roy stated as he stood up. His side throbbed, and his back felt like he’d been dragged across glass, but he would make it home to see if Jay was there.

“My son-in-law will be after blood,” Jim warned. “I had to keep him from shooting his own brother.”

Those words stopped Roy in his tracks as his head swiveled around to Jim. No one, and Roy meant NO ONE, knew who Jason was. Roy had taken great pains to erase them both, and he knew that Bruce Wayne wouldn’t give a fuck one way or another about his monster child living and breathing. However, other factions of the city would care to know that tidbit of information.

“Yeah, I know, I’ve known almost as long as I’ve known you two,” Jim huffed.

“Does…?”

“No one knows except me, and now Dick,” Jim stated.

“Is that going to be a problem?” Roy asked icily.

“Not as much of one as Lian could be,” Jim answered. Now it felt like Roy was doused in ice as he glared at the older man.

“If you so much as…”

“Relax, I’m not hurting my only grandkid, I’m warning you,” Jim stated.

“Grandkid?”

“Yeah, been looking after you two knuckleheads so long I have a claim to your kid,” Jim said smugly. “Go check on Jay, I’ll swing by later when things aren’t so hot.”

“Jim,” Roy called out as the older man turned to leave. “It was Doom Patrol,” he said before he took off running for Outlaw headquarters.

“Jay!” he shouted.

“In here!” came Raven’s soft voice, Roy navigated his way to the bathroom and peered in to see his whole world there safe and sound. Lian was tending to Jay’s wounds, Raven was handing his eight-year-old supplies as she asked for them, and Jason was sound asleep. These three people were the only three people who mattered to him, and the relief which swamped him seeing them had him gripping the sink.

“You’re hurt!?” Lian exclaimed.

“I’m fine, kid,” he assured her. “Tend to Jay,” he ordered. He had never had a close relationship with his and Jade’s daughter, leaving Lian in the care of Doctor Leislie Thompkins before keeping distance with her. He sent funds to keep her clothed, fed, sheltered, off the street, he sent Jay to her to keep her safe too. Jason had taken to Lian like a duck to water, he was her protector, big brother, uncle all wrapped up in one, and she was unaware of who he was in relation to her.

“What happened?” Raven asked. She kept hands on Jason’s bare thigh as she sat between his legs in an uncomfortable position.

“Doom Patrol,” he answered as he walked over and clasped his partner’s shoulder. Jason groggily turned his head, a tired eye slitted as he looked at him. Roy was stunned at how green his partner’s eyes were.

“You good?” he asked.

Jason held a thumbs up before closing his eye and letting his hand fall to tangle in Raven’s long hair.

“I gave him downers,” Lian whispered loudly, Roy snorted.

“He’s not going to like that when he wakes,” Raven said as she rested her cheek on his thigh.

“No, he’s not,” Roy mused. “Is that my shirt?”

“It was,” Raven answered.

“Damn it Jason!” Roy seethed. He was simply happy his three people were safe here, and not out in the hell that was enveloping the world.

[thepartyresponsible]

another soundtrack fill! this is for the anon who asked for  bucky barnes/jason todd and “vengeance” by neoni, which i had never heard before, but which is definitely a “killing monsters with giant robots” song.

so here’s a pacific rim au. the only surprise here is that it’s taken me so long to write one.

                                                        ---

Echo Lazarus and Bullseye Lucky throw Scorpio back into the Pacific, but the Kaiju’s barbed stinger rips a hole clear through Laz’s chestplate first. Twenty seconds later, Lucky executes it with a shot through a weak point in its cranial bones. Jason would take that less personally if the damage had been on his side of Laz, instead of Frank’s. Probably.

“Fucking assholes,” he says, fighting free of the harness, elbowing his way out of the Conn-Pod. “Kill-stealing chucklefucks,” he continues, right over the top of Frank’s half-assed attempts to calm him down. “I’m sick of this shit, Castle.”

“I’m fine,” Frank says. There’s a bit of blood on his mouth, but it’s from smashing his lip against his helmet, not from neural overload or internal bleeding. When he wipes it away, no more leaks out to replace it. “Nice of you to check in.”

“I know you’re fine, Castle,” Jason says, ignoring the still-panicked thudding of his heart. “Fuck off.”

He stomps his way free of Lazarus and shoulder-checks Frank seconds later, relieved by the solid warmth of him. Relieved, also, by the exasperation in Frank’s face as he shoves Jason out of his personal space.

“I’m fine,” Frank says. And then, a beat later, a bit more intent: “Jason. I’m fine.”

“I know,” Jason says. Because he does. His brain was Frank’s brain was their brain when the hit landed. The fear that flooded them was Jason’s, not Frank’s.

Frank’s not scared of dying. Jason’s not that nervous about it, either. But being linked while the other dies? Feeling Frank fade away like water down a drain?

Yeah, sure. That scares the hell out of him.

“Jason,” Frank says, looking at him, sidelong and flat. Outside of the Drift, he never seems to know what to say.

“You’re fine,” Jason repeats, sullenly, dutifully. “I know that. I do. I told you.”

He flattens himself obligingly against the hallway wall, lets the techs swarm past him to get to Echo Lazarus. None of them even make eye-contact, and Jason knows what that means. Their Jaeger will need extensive repairs. They’ll be out for a week or two, minimum, and they won’t even get a recorded kill out of this little shitshow.

Bullseye Lucky will get the kill. Again.

“If I break their knees,” Jason says, as the crew of techs scuttles between them, “they’ll stop stealing our fucking kills.”

Frank rolls his eyes. When they’re in their own brains, he likes to pretend he’s indifferent to this whole business. But Jason’s been in his thoughts. He knows how Frank feels about the Kaiju. He lost his whole family to these ocean-borne bastards, his wife and his little girl, his son. He likes the kill just as much as Jason does.

It’s a balm. A comedown. It’s a moment of catharsis they both need more than they want to acknowledge, and Lucky has stolen three of their last four, and Jason’s losing his mind about it, a little.

“If you cause a big scene about this,” Frank says, “I will not have your back when Barnes knocks you on your ass.”

Jason scoffs. Audibly. And then, just to be sure Frank hears him, he does it again, louder, with more emphasis in his jaw and shoulders. “Fuck you, Castle,” he says. “You’re gonna have my back forever.”

Frank rolls his eyes again. He doesn’t argue.

Forever means for as long as he can. Forever means today and, if they’re lucky, tomorrow. And they have tomorrow because Jason flinched when he saw the hit coming, because he threw everything he had into moving, directing that hit anywhere that wasn’t right at Frank.

They have tomorrow because Clint Barton and Bucky Barnes shot Scorpio through the skull, and so now Jason will never know if he and Frank could’ve saved themselves. He can’t come down, can’t feel safe.

“I’m gonna fucking kill them,” Jason says.

   Barton and Barnes aren’t generally known for partying, but a beer or two seems to knock the taste of Kaiju ichor out of their mouths. Jason finds Clint tucked away at the little on-base bar, which exists primarily to stop Rangers from going out among the civilian populace and regaling them with the most recent stories of how close they all came to absolute annihilation.

“Hey, shithead,” he says, as he slides up next to Barton at the bar, “quick question: are you at least getting off on giving me blue balls? Because someone should be getting off. And it’s damn sure not me.”

“Christ,” Frank says, with a heavy sigh. He elbows up between them and directs bleak, beseeching eyes toward the watchful bartender. “Help me.”

“Sure,” the bartender says. “Is that a single or a double?”

“Please, yeah, tell me all about your balls, Todd,” Clint mutters, in a tone just as deeply skeptical as Frank’s. “They definitely don’t feature in my brain enough.”

“A double,” the bartender says, with a decisive nod. “Sure.” He starts pouring. Frank grunts what would probably be a thank you, if he took his head out of his hands.

“What the fuck does that mean, Barton?” Jason says, leaning half over Frank’s shoulders to see him. “Are you daydreaming about my balls? Because I’ll give you a free sample if you stop sniping my fucking kills.”

Clint swivels his head to stare at the side of Frank’s. “Can you,” he says, low and deeply felt, “believe this shit?”

“Absolutely,” Frank says, as he takes a hearty swig of whiskey. “Believe it? Yes. Hate every minute of it? Also yes.”

“Can I tell him?” Clint asks. “Can I just--”

“Hey,” Jason says, because he’s finally caught sight of Barnes, skulking in the shadowy back of the bar. Barnes is like that. Jason’s noticed. It can be full summery sunshine, and Barnes will find a way to be evasive and out of sight. Jason always manages to catch sight of him anyway, though. He’s not hyperaware of the guy. It’s just basic situational awareness. “Hey, asshole.”

“Thank God,” Clint says, and Frank taps his tumbler against the side of Clint’s glass in a show of solidarity that Jason finds both deeply disloyal and completely unacceptable. He steals their drinks as recompense and then stalks across the bar.

Bucky looks up at Jason gets closer. His hair is too long again, still wet from his post-fight shower, falling across his face and curling, a little, at the ends. His eyes are bright blue and narrowed, wary like a stray cat. He’s wearing a PPDC t-shirt and old jeans. He looks ridiculous. He’s an asshole.

Because Barton will come through when you need him, but he’s not the mother hen on the team. Lucky’s been stealing kills because Bucky Barnes can’t keep his hands off the trigger.

“That for me?” Bucky asks, pointing at the whiskey in Jason’s hand.

“No,” Jason says, and he takes a quick sip to establish ownership. It’s smoky as hell, because Frank likes that kind of old man garbage, but Jason drinks it anyway.

Bucky points at Clint’s drink. “So the beer’s for me?”

“The beer is also mine,” Jason says. He downs a bit of that, too. “Why the hell would I be bringing you a drink?”

“Gratitude?” Bucky says, eyebrow cocked. “For saving your ass?”

“My ass was never in danger,” Jason says. “Fuck you for worrying about my ass.”

“I don’t know if you’ve seen your ass,” Bucky says, “but it’s really difficult to--”

“Oh, is that what we’re doing?” Jason puts the glasses down on the table. “We’re gonna skip straight to the part where we fight?”

Bucky steals Frank’s stolen whiskey. “You brought me a drink. I figured ass talk was allowed.”

Jason’s jaw drops. He rescues the beer before it falls victim to similar machinations. “Sure,” he says. “Sure, Barnes. We can talk about asses. We can talk about how I’m gonna kick yours all the way to--”

“Jason,” Bucky says. He leans forward, elbow on the table, and he looks good, when he comes out of the shadows like that. The light does nice things for his cheekbones, for his eyes, for the sharp line of his jaw and the soft curl of his smirking mouth. “Is that really what you want to do with my ass?”

Jason swallows. He takes a long, fortifying drink of the beer in his hand. He’s been learning about these kind of tactics from Frank. Stalling, Frank tells him. Tactical misdirection.

But he’s just a kid from Gotham, and he plays by Gotham rules. The Joker’s always wild, the stakes are always high, and you call every bluff you find, because you’ve always got less to lose.

He sets the glass on the table. It’s empty, anyway. He’s great at tactical stalling. A Goddamn natural.

“I dunno, Barnes. Do you have any suggestions of something else I could do with your ass?”

   Hours later, Barnes still isn’t out of ideas, but they’re catching their breath through another round of tactical stalling. “Jesus,” Jason says. “Did you see those shitheads high-fiving when we left? Frank won’t even let me high-five him.”

“He and Clint have a history,” Bucky says. Which Jason knows, thank you. He’s seen plenty of Barton in the Drift. “Anyway, Clint’s been bitching at me about you for months.”

Jason furrows his brow and looks over at him. The sheets are bunched up at mid-thigh. Bucky doesn’t look any less beautiful than he did when he shoved Jason backwards onto this bed, but he at least has the decency to look winded and considerably mussed.

“Months,” he repeats, trying to infuse the word with all the dubiousness a single syllable can hold. “What the hell do you mean, months?”

The look Bucky gives him indicates that maybe he’s not interested in Jason for his brain. In fact, it seems to suggest that he doubts Jason has one. “Oh, fuck you,” he says. “What? You want me to say it?”

Jason doesn’t know what the hell Bucky is or isn’t saying. When they left the bar, he figured they were going to work out their shared aggression in a way that wouldn’t get either one of them demoted or transferred. He’d held onto that assumption until Bucky started treating him like he was something worth putting effort into, and he’d been too busy after that to do any complicated reanalysis.

“Yeah,” he says. “I want you to say it.”

Bucky makes a face at him, a sideways smush of his mouth and a long look up through his ludicrous eyelashes. He reaches up to touch the side of Jason’s face, fingertips gentle as they run across the freshly bruised skin, the only sign on Jason’s body that he almost died today.

If Bucky had touched him like that four hours ago, Jason would’ve slapped his hand away and told him to go to hell.

Right now, he wants to lean into it. He holds himself still.

“I’m not stealing your kills on purpose,” Bucky tells him, gaze dropping from the bruise on Jason’s hairline to look him straight in the eyes, pinning him to the bed. “I just hate it when you get hurt.”

Jason swallows. He tips his head into Bucky’s hand, and Bucky leans in and kisses him like he can’t help himself.

“You’re still a kill-stealing piece of shit, Barnes,” Jason says, mouth an inch from Bucky’s, staring up into the bright blue of his stardust eyes.

Bucky looks down at him for a moment, mouth caught between a smirk and a smile. “Uh-huh,” he says. He kisses him again, on his cheek, on his jaw, in a line down his throat to his chest. “Let me make it up to you.”