#same old shtick

[fieriframes]

[We're living in repetition. Content in the same old shtick again. Now the routine's turning to contention. Like a production line going over and over and over, roller coaster.]

[starry-bi-sky]

Danyal Phantom Doodles uhhh i’ve got a handful of Danyal Al Ghul drawings that I like enough to share.

[comradecowplant]

Holy cow Gen V is like The Boys if The Boys was a show that had main characters whose motivations/stakes/development are actually interesting??!?

[peapod20001]

Cracks me tf up how Ozzie is literally. He looks exactly how he did when I first drew him

[isaacathom]

have thought about it and i think the key thing about florians gender is that no matter what hes trying to pull he would just look the same. this man is just vibing. maybe in one universe he has tits but its not going further than that

[artdcnaldson]

okay but PLEASE elaborate on Olympics!Art AU

TeeHee

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (p in v), feral obsessive behavior, infidelity

A/N: And you would do it too, that’s all I’m saying. Also IMPORTANT note: I love Tashi, she is a mother to many. However this fic has a very obsessive reader who just wants to fuck a married man, at Tashi’s expense

Maybe you were a bad person.

You’d met Art and Tashi Donaldson before— a year back at an event held for Tennis’ rising stars. That was you, some other guys who had done well in the Juniors, a girl from an Ivy League, and more people that fell into the blind spots of your interest..

You must’ve looked so sweet in your formalwear, approaching the couple with shaking hands so you could say just how big of a fan you were. You had no ill intent then, not when you were face to face with two people you’d idolized since you were twelve and watching the Junior US Open. That night you’d taken a deep breath as you stared at the ceiling of your home, feeling like you’d made it.

Sure, Art was handsome, and you’d lived the past decade harboring a massive celebrity crush on him, but he was married, he was untouchable. Art Donaldson oozed that sweet, devoted husband shtick. Anniversary posts, birthday posts, Valentine’s Day posts, Mother’s Day posts. He had a daughter, he posted about how much he loved being a dad.

You were fine accepting that your fantasies of fucking Art Donaldson were strictly fantasies. But that was before you qualified and had to see him every fucking day.

Art Donaldson, who held open doors for you, who talked to you casually, like he might an old friend. Art, who stood in the long line in the food court with you, ate something he probably shouldn’t have, and asked that you don’t tell Tashi.

And you’d smile conspiratorially, and assure him his secret was safe with you. The implication being that you’d keep that secret, and more. As many as he’d ask you to, really.

You’d see him on a practice court, running drills with his wife, and feel the heat of jealousy in the pit of your stomach. You’d turn away, focus on your own game, practice until your hands were aching and sore.

“Where’s Mrs. Donaldson?” You asked one night after you’d been sexiled and had to sit out in the hallway waiting for your roommate to finish up. Art leaned against the wall, standing tall above you, so you had to crane your neck. You liked that point of view, on your knees looking up at him, you wondered if he liked it too.

“Oh, she’s staying in a very nice, very expensive hotel room with our daughter right now,” he said with a grin. “As soon as my events are done, that’s where I’ll be too.”

“Oh,” you said, bringing an easy smile to your lips. “Well, we’re all glad you’re here now.”

“We?” He questioned.

You gave a coy smile, batting your lashes so sweetly. “Maybe just me.”

There was a strange expression on his face for just a moment. Then he laughed like it was nothing. He wished you a goodnight and good luck in your matches the next morning, and disappeared into his own room.

You medaled in women’s doubles. They published photos of you and your partner biting the silver between your teeth. That same day, Art Donaldson took home gold. You were there to see the very end of his last match— every single collision of racket against ball, every step, every grunt of exertion. Your thighs clenched as you watched, fists balled up in the fabric of your skirt.

You wanted him in a needy, desperate sort of way. Like a groupie for a rock band, or a virgin being sacrificed on a mountaintop. You watched him celebrate with a kiss from Tashi and felt that same need like an open wound. Jealousy was festering in you like a rot.

The dive bar wasn’t what you’d expected. Something Art had found with a quick google search and a few minutes with a translation app. He’d knocked on your door to invite you, wearing the beaming smile of someone on top of the world.

“So you’ll come?” He asked after he told you all about it.

“Mhmm,” you said, heart hammering against your ribs. “I’ll come.”

And there you were— in a dress that hardly qualified as such— standing so close to him that you could smell his expensive cologne. His arm would brush yours, he’d glance over and apologize with a warm hand to your arm. You’d clench your thighs together and peer at him through your lashes. It’s fine, don’t worry about it.

A few of the other players disappeared to play darts, or watch the late night coverage of the other sports still competing. You stuck by Art’s side, happily allowing his attention to fall on you completely.

“I saw parts of your doubles final,” he said finally. He was drinking a brand of beer you’d never seen before— something local, you supposed. “You looked beautiful out there.” Your eyes lit up, and then he added. “The way you were playing, I mean— it was phenomenal.”

“Well, I’m no gold medalist,” you said. You let your hand rest on his arm, and looked up at him. The fingers on your other hand toyed with the edge of the medal, warm from where it had been flush against his chest.

He swallowed. You felt his muscles flex beneath your touch, but he didn’t discourage it. Not one fucking bit.

It wasn’t lost on you that Tashi wasn’t there. Not that it was really her type of venue, from what you had gathered. It wasn’t lost on you that Art Donaldson was at a dive bar, drinking random Brazilian beers, instead of celebrating with his wife, with his daughter. Fuck all those posts on his instagram— if he really was a good husband, a faithful one… that’s the only place he’d want to be.

“I saw your match too. I ran right over after my ceremony to watch,” you confessed. It was hard to concentrate on anything else— you were standing so close to him that you were nearly pressed completely into his body.

His lips twitched in interest. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Mhmm. It was incredible. You were so dominant out there, just taking what was rightfully yours.”

He swallowed again, gravitating closer. Your tits were practically spilling out of your dress— he probably got the perfect eyeful when he eased you closer with a firm hand on your lower back, when he looked down at you through blown pupils.

“You looked so fucking hot out there, Art,” you said, lips brushing against his jawline. “You can’t even imagine how it felt sitting there, watching you win. How turned on I got… how wet.”

Art exhaled a shuddery breath. “Jesus Christ.”

It must’ve been a while since he had someone want him this bad, you thought. Clearly he needed it— needed a pretty, sweet thing to tell him just how much they wanted him. You could be that. You could do that.

“I’m not wearing panties,” you whispered in his ear. His grip on you tightened and you had to suppress a giddy smile. “You can feel if you want. I won’t tell.”

He swore under his breath and glanced around. Everyone was too occupied or drunk to give a shit about what the two of you were up to.

He grabbed your hand, pulled you away into the bathroom. You looked pretty even then, in the flickering lights, sat up on the edge of the sink eagerly awaiting his attention.

When he wrenched your thighs apart, he was greeted by the pretty sight of your glistening cunt— sticky with arousal and need. His hand fit there perfectly, right where you needed it.

“Fuck,” you gasped. His fingers rubbed through your slit— wet and hot and aching for him. Your head fell back, knocking against the dirty mirror. “Want you to use me— whatever you want, just take it.”

And you meant it too. This was your teenage idol— a man you’d touched yourself to the thought of countless times. He owned your body, your sexuality, as much as you did. It was only fair he took from it whatever he pleased.

You watched with hungry eyes as he fumbled with the button of his pants, then shoved them down just enough to free his dick.

Your mouth fucking watered with the need to feel it on your tongue, nudging against the back of your throat. You weren’t opposed to begging— you nearly started before you got it into your hand.

Warm, thick, pulsing. Precum beaded at his tip, so you smeared it around the sensitive head of his cock with your thumb. He groaned, bucked into your fist once, twice before he moved your hand.

“Spread your legs wider for me,” he said, slapping the inside of your thighs. You obeyed wordlessly, spreading yourself out invitingly. He pressed closer, so you felt him rutting his dick against your pussy, coating it in your arousal. “God, you’re so fucking wet.”

The words came out with equal parts disgust and awe. He probably thought you were a slut with the way you were throwing yourself at him. You wished he’d just call you that, spit it in your face.

Your cunt pulsed with need, aching to be filled up finally. The culmination of years of fantasizing. Art pressed himself against your entrance, sinking himself into you with the slow reverence of a man who liked making love.

He buried himself inside of you and had to stop moving to keep from cumming then and there. He was a perfect image of restraint— the way his fingers dimpled the flesh of your hips in a bruising grip.

Art wanted to be a gentleman— to give you time to adjust to the size of him, to ease you into it and let the pleasure be a slow, soft burn. He pulled out nice and easy, slid himself into your wet, throbbing cunt. That was all fine and good, but you knew it was just pretense. You were laid out and wanting, begging for him to use you as his own personal toy.

“I’m not your wife, Art.” You met his gaze, locked your ankles around his waist. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

The first thrust, the first real one, knocked the air from your lungs. That silence didn’t last long— because you got what you wanted— he was really fucking you, bullying his cock into your pussy with the same need and desperation that you felt.

“Jesus Christ, you’ve— fuck— you’ve got no fucking self respect, huh?” He pounded into you, leveraging his grip to pull you against him, really impale you on his dick.

The moan that escaped you was pornographic. If he kept talking to you like that, if he kept fucking you like that, you’d cum.

“You don’t even care, do you? This fucking pussy’s squeezing me so tight— you fucking love this,” His voice was strained, interrupted by groans and pants.

You moaned, eyes rolling back. “Love this,” you echoed. When you looked down, at the sight of him splitting you open, of the ring of creamy arousal circling the base of his dick, you felt dizzy. Like you were standing on top of a tall building and looking down. Sort of out of body, tethered in the present by brutal thrusts into your pussy and the wet, slapping sounds of your bodies joining.

Your fingers moved between your thighs, rubbing needy and insistent at your clit. So close to finishing that you wanted to cry and just ask to start over again, that you’d savor it more a second time.

“Gonna cum,” he groaned suddenly. You felt him start to pull out, to leave. It wasn’t fucking fair.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck— not yet, you didn’t want it to end like that. “I have an IUD,” you lied through your teeth. You used your legs, pulled him closer, deeper. “Just keep going, don’t stop. I’m right there.”

He moaned against your throat— holding you tight, fucking into you with animal need. Your fingers moved against your clit with an insistent need. It didn’t take much to push you over the edge. Your moans so loud that Art had to put his medal between your lips to shut you up.

And you were so pliant— letting him drill into your aching, used cunt, your mouth tasting like metal. You felt his rhythm falter— one, two harsh thrusts that knocked muffled moans from you until he came, painting your insides thick, creamy white.

He stayed buried inside of you for a while— panting, doing his best to catch his breath. You spat out the medal and it fell back against his chest, spit slick and shining. You reached up, ran your fingers along his face, reverently, sweetly. A lock of hair fell into his eyes and you tucked it away with delicate fingers.

When he pulled out, you felt that sinking feeling of loss and jealousy in your chest. He redressed in silence, turned away like he couldn’t stand to look at you, or the mirror. Shame rolled off of him in waves that you wanted to brush away.

It wasn’t bad, you’d assure him. You’re a tennis star, you’re the greatest in the world. You should have whatever you want, whenever you want it.

But you didn’t say that. You just tidied yourself up as best as you could and slipped back out into the bar. If anyone noticed, they said nothing.

[kyxhiin]

Captain Marvel but people discover he joined the JL a teensy bit too young like. 20 years later

It will go a bit something like.

After 20 whole years. The Justice league is hosting a retirement party, where all the past great heroes take a leisurement into their old lives. Letting the new generation of superheroes take over. Surprisingly, only those who looks like they haven't aged at all was Captain Marvel and Wonderwoman. But nobody beats around the bush with it, why? Their related to God's and stuff!

Billy now after 20 Years, have reached the age of 28 (he joined the JL when he was 8 in this.) Thought that it would be a great time to reveal his identity. I mean he has nothing to hide! He's a fully grown man now, has a job and all that shtick.

So right now he has gathered up all his oldened colleagues, heroes, and vigilantes. To tell them something important. (Batman knows what this is about and is happy for once about FINALLY learning what Cap's identity is.)

Captain Marvel: SHAZAM!

A roaring thunder came in, clashing with the banquet hall. As the smoke cleaned up the people expected an old man. Like Bruce, only to see a man who looks strikingly simular to cap but younger. Like have only reached his late 20s younger.

Captain Marvel, now Billy: So this is me, My name's William Batson. But you can all call me Billy.

Batman: Cap- William. How old are you?

Billy: I don't see how that's relevant..

Superman with the same concerned look as B: Mar-Billy, please answer the question.

Billy: Uh This is totally not relevant at all, why should I?

Green Lantern (Hal): Cap' just answer it.

Billy: Well... 20.. 8?

The JL just combined: WHAT.

Superman: Captain, it's been 20 years since you joined the JL..

Flash: How in the hell did an 8 year old look like that.

Batman: You should've told us. William. It was a very irresponsible thing to do. Even if your an adult now.

Flash: Don't just skip over my question-

Green Lantern: Cap' you've had world ending powers since you were 8?

Billy: I- uhm..

All the Female or Male heroes who tried to flirt with Cap Back then: Oh.. Oh God. OH GOD.

Billy: It's best not to panic.

Short story, they all panic.

[fairestwriting]

Hello there! Love your writing! How about my sweet Savanaclaw boys finding out that their crush (or S/O) sleeps cuddling a plushie of their respective animals (like a wolf for Jack). Thanks! I love Jack so much :)

me while jumping at the opportunity of writing the man: i hate leona

Leona Kingscholar

He is canonically a very smart and perceptive guy. But somewhere in my heart I just know he wouldn't fully make the connection for a while. Just trust me on that one.

Kind of pokes fun at your "cat" plushie. What's with that thing, Herbivore? Aren't you a little too old for stuffed animals? Though he steps back if it makes you genuinely upset, which isn't what he's going for, he's just being an ass as a joke again. A part of him thinks it's really endearing, even before it really clicks for him.

He kind of feels vaguely jealous of the plushie. If you bring it while you two are sleeping together he'll pull the what do you need this thing for, I'm right here kind of shtick.

Confused on why you sleep with a plushie in the first place, more confused about why this stuffed cat looks so weird... oh, wait.

He's stupidly proud when it actually clicks. Of course he won't tell you it went over his head for the longest time, but all of a sudden, he's all smug whenever he sees you with the plushie, saying you could've just called if you missed him so much.!

Ruggie Bucchi

Takes a hot second to make the connection, but a lot less than Leona. The delay is mostly because he's never expected to see a hyena plushie of all things.

Actually loves it because it reminds him of the kids back home a little. He asks where you bought it, how much it was, tells you a little story about a kid he knew who wanted one just like that.

He won't explicitly ask to hold it but you should offer it, he loves your little buddy, he's already said you should come to him if you ever need to get a tear patched up. Doesn't even have it in him to make a joke about it being childish, at most tells you he'll keep it a secret if you look embarrassed.

When he does notice though, while poking at the plushie's little ears absentmindedly, he's the one who gets flustered. Oh no, that's really cute kind of realization.

He wants to sound cool when he says that, you know, if you want to sleep with him, you can just invite him over, but he does fail pretty hard. He can't help it, though, it's just way too endearing to him.

...Besides, he's already offered to co-parent the toy. If it doesn't have a name, it's just a matter of time before Ruggie asks and "jokingly" comes up with suggestions.

Jack Howl

Only one who thinks it might have to do something with him... but he's kind of too flustered to say anything about it for a good while.

He bashfully reassures you there's nothing wrong with keeping plushies around even if you're not a kid, maybe letting it slip that he thinks the little wolf is pretty cute... then pretending he didn't say anything.

Jack overthinks it a bit. Wolf plushies aren't that uncommon, right? You probably had it before you met him. He's too shy to ask if you had it before you met him.

He'll settle on... asking about the plushie itself. It might not have anything to do with him, but he knows pretty quickly that he wants it to. If you're not dating yet, he'll use the almighty excuse of asking about it because he needs to get his little siblings a gift.

Either way, though, the next excuse he gets, whether it's Christmas or your birthday or whatever, you find yourself with a very neatly wrapped box in your hands, and Jack nearly hiding behind it. Just saw it in a shop near home and thought you might like it, he says.

Whether your previous plushie was based on the exact same type of white wolf he is doesn't matter. If it is, it's getting a twin. You bet he scoured the shops to find it, blessing his luck on wolves being animals plenty of people love. He has a small, shy smile on his face when you take it.

if you wanna support my work, you can buy me a ko-fi or commission me!

[supreme-leader-stoat]

Urban fantasy series where, technically, the only unrealistic element present is that vampires exist. In practice, the writer is very clearly trying to find out how many different supernatural creatures they can cram under the umbrella of "vampire" before their editors call their bluff.

You've got your standard Draculas, your Varneys, your Carmillas, your Orloks and so on. Revenants and zombies are easy to fold in as a kind of humanoid undead. Werewolves aren't too much of a stretch, some old folklore already equates the two kinds of creature anyway. Jiangshi are already often localized as a kind of 'vampire' anyway. El Chupacabra's whole shtick is that it's a blood-drinking monster. Same with the Yara-ma-yha-who, with the added benefit of it being able to turn humans. Yuki-onna are where things start getting kind of weird, but you know, it's a monster that drains a vital resource from someone, the similarities are still there if you squint.

Things start getting real weird after a unicorn's horn is explained as a hollow, blood-draining tusk.

[blushweddinggowns]

“Your boyfriend,” Chirssy sighed as she picked through Nancy’s clothes, “Y’know, Steve?”

Robin blinked at her, “You think I’m dating Steve?”

That was a silly question, “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I? You guys are all over each other.”

They were. Piggy back rides, cuddling on the couch together, constantly invading each other’s personal space. The only person worse with Steve was Eddie, but Chrissy figured that just came with being best friends for over a decade. She didn’t exactly have a frame of reference for that, considering her first real friends were barely six months old. 

Chrissy just hadn’t expected Robin to burst out laughing. Hard enough to double over.

Robin wiped at her eyes, barely managing to speak through her own cackles, “That’s-oh my god. How have we fucked up this badly?” 

Chrissy could feel a flush creep up her neck, embarrassment kicking in. She hated when she wasn’t in on the joke. It usually meant that it was actually on her,  “Don't be mean.”

“No!” Robin rushed out to say, effortlessly catching on to the look on Chrissy’s face, “No! I-I don’t mean- you’re not stupid! I am. We are. For… reasons. But we aren’t dating.”

That didn’t make any sense. Unless… was Steve leading her on? Was he the type of guy to do that?

Chrissy raised a brow at her, “So what are you doing? The two of you are attached at the hip. Unless he just drives you around everywhere for fun?”

Chrissy could tell Robin was still trying not to laugh. She was failing at it too, obvious as she hid it behind her hand. 

“Stop laughing at me,” Chrissy grumbled. 

“I’m not! I’m just laughing near you,” Robin said quickly. She turned to Steve, “Hey babe, can you come over here for a second?”

He came trotting right over, leaving Eddie to argue with Nancy in his place. He kind of reminded her of a dog, but in a cute way. Like a golden retriever boyfriend. 

Robin wrapped an arm around his shoulder the second he was within reach. She grinned at him, shaking him the slightest bit, “How would you feel about us going out some time?”

Steve stared at her, obviously confused, “Huh?”

“You, me,” Robin went on, “The whole boyfriend girlfriend shtick. What do you say?”

Chrissy didn’t expect to Steve physically cringe, like the idea completely disgusted him, “Ew, no.”

Robin scoffed but she didn’t look very surprised, “Fucking rude.”

“No!” Steve said, raising his hands to placate, “I don’t mean you’re gross! I mean it would be like banging my sister!”

It was Robin’s turn to cringe, “Dude, ew.”

“See!”

Chrissy didn’t understand what was happening. She stared at them, blurting the question out, “You guys aren’t together?”

Robin did a set of jazz hands, “Nope. Absolutely zero attraction between us. See?”

“But why?” Chrissy asked, looking between the two of them, “You both seem so perfect for each other.”

“Hey Eddie,” Steve called, a weird smile on his face, “What do you think? Are Robin and I perfect for each other?”

Suddenly Robin had that same look, “Yeah. He knows Steve better than anybody. Let's have him weigh in.”

Eddie groaned as he came over, clearly eavesdropping the entire time. He left Nancy to dig around her closet, walking up next to Steve with a sigh, “Are we really doing this? Really?”

Robin gasped, faking a faint, “Are you implying that I’m not good enough for Steve?”

Steve gasped right along with her, joining in with the dramatics while Chrissy was still lost, “I think he might be.”

“As fun as this little game is,” Eddie sighed, “I think we should just tell her. I’m tired of keeping my hands to myself anyway.”

Steve looked at him, head cocked, “You think so?”

“Why not?”

Steve shrugged, his eyes landing back onto Chrissy. His voice dipped down, more serious then before. He was talking like he was speaking to Eddie, but Eddie wasn’t the one he was staring down as he spoke, “It makes sense. I think the chances of it going badly are pretty low. The alternative wouldn’t be very wise.”

Chrissy was reminded, not for the first time, why she thought Steve was the scarier one of the best friend duo. 

But then Eddie was clamping a hand onto Steve’s shoulder, pulling him closer as he mumbled in his ear, “Put the claws away angel. I highly doubt she's like that. Plus she's been through enough for one day. Don't you think?”

It was actually pretty impressive, how easily a few words had Steve’s face transforming from scarily defensive to pleasantly neutral. It nearly looked like the words made him shiver, “I-you're right. Sorry Chris. I'm just… sensitive about it “

“I have no idea what’s going on,” Chrissy said, completely unable to accept an apology that she didn’t understand, “What is happening?”

And what did Eddie just call him? 

Eddie went on, “Well… we kind of have this thing when we’re in a near death experience. Or at least adjacent to it. Where we, well, kind of let loose? So we might as well warn you about what you’re going to see beforehand.”

Chrissy stared as Steve leaned further into him, nearly too close. No, definitely too close. He was basically nuzzling the side of Eddie’s face as he spoke, “You’re making it sound like we’re going to commit public indecency in front of her. And I’m the one who needs to calm down?”

Chrissy still didn’t get it. But her brain was still trying to work it out, fitting the weird pieces together. The way they were leaning into each other. The fact that Steve, for some bizarre reason didn’t want the best girl in the country, despite the fact that Robin was right there. How Eddie was instantly able to calm him down. 

Angel.

Oh. 

Oh. 

OH. 

“Uh, you okay there Chris?” Eddie asked, watching right at the realization hit her.

She was not okay. Not because of Eddie and Steve, but because this meant Robin was single. And she had been the entire damn time. 

Chrissy shook herself out of the stupid thought, just because she wasn’t taken didn’t mean she had a chance-

“Yeah, we’re kind of the queer trio over here,” Robin added, effortlessly grinding Chrissy’s train of thought back to a halt, “I um, probably should have told you sooner but piggybacking on their coming out seems appropriate.”

Nancy snorted, her outfit choices formalized as she walked over, “If you’re the queer trio what does that make me? The straight fourth wheel?”

They were all talking about it so casually. Like the thing that has plagued Chrissy’s mind for years, filling her with guilt and doubt, didn’t matter. It was normal, it was fine, and Robin liked girls.

She was pretty sure she was going to faint. But before she could her mouth was opening, “That’s- I - Why didn’t you tell me sooner?!”

Her voice came out more forceful than she expected. Though in her defense, she just found out that she had a real shot with her best friend the same day her life was in danger. She was feeling frazzled, but she corrected herself when she was met with silence, “I-I’m fine with it! Really! I j-just wish I had known.”

Nancy looked at her sympathetically, “Did you have a crush on one of them too? I get it, Steve got me the first time we started getting close. But I promise it’s not that hard to get over it.”

“No!” Chrissy said quickly, again with too much force, “I’m just surprised. T-That’s it. Everything’s fine.”

“Think you got the wrong category there Nance,” Steve mumbled under his breathe, yelping when Robin pinched his arm with a sharp glare. 

“Ignore him,” Robin said with a sad smile, “He doesn’t get everyone doesn’t have the gay gene.”

Chrissy nodded, her eyes trailing the flush that was going up Robin’s neck. Suddenly her mouth felt dry, the urge to correct her coming out full force. She shouldn’t tell them, right? It was wrong, it was bad, it didn't make sense. Because she knew they weren’t wrong. They weren’t bad. And Chrissy was so, so, tired of other people’s words invading her own thoughts. 

Nancy was laying the clothes out, the only one capable of getting everyone back on task, “Since it looks like neither of you were actually looking. I picked these out for you-”

“I have it,” Chrissy blurted out, her eyes still on the clothes on the bed. She refused to look up for any of their reactions, “The um, what you guys were talking about earlier. Me too. And I like the blue skirt.”

Nancy was the only one who didn’t miss a beat, “Ah, so now there’s four. Good for you. And I agree with the skirt, it will make you look a little taller with the heels and the elongation. We can get you to pass for a college student for sure. Robin, what do you think about the pink?”

from the next chapter of this fic

[deconstructthesoup]

Personal Ranking of the Fantasy High Moms, From Worst to Best:

Arianwen Abernant: -19999/10. She's not as bad as Angwyn, since she's convinced herself she's a good mother, but her "I just want the best for you" shtick isn't any better, and the fact that she's ignorant about how horrible she is doesn't make up for years of neglect. And she also attempted to rope her daughters into raising a being of pure nightmares because she lost her status, so.

Donna Applebees: 0/10. Conservative, racist, judgmental, only loves her kids conditionally... you get the gist. Also, she's absolutely a Karen.

Hallariel Seacaster: 3/10. Yes, I know, she's a MILF, she's got such an iconic vibe, she's a badass with a sword, but none of that excuses years of being emotionally absent from your son's life. She's not a bad person, but she unfortunately doesn't know how to be a mom. Sorry, Hallariel. I wish I could rank you higher.

The Last Phoenix: 5/10. Bird. She's a bird. We don't know enough about her except for the fact that she is the last phoenix, she started out as a "haha Arthur Aguefort is a crazy motherfucker" gag, and she gave us the incredible gift that is Ayda. I cannot rank her fairly, but given that she is Ayda's mom, she goes on the list.

Roz Last-Name-Unknown: 6/10. Same deal with Gorbag---we don't know enough about her for me to properly rank her, but we do know that she was a teen mom, and she's made the choice to reconnect with her son and be in his life. Props for that.

Sandralynn Faeth: 7.5/10. I am ranking her realistically, but let it be known that I love her so much. She is such a beautiful example of a flawed person who consistently tries to be better, and even though she does relapse into old behaviors, she's still growing---and outside of the serial cheating (that is a response to trauma, by the way) and occasional lapses in social skills, she's a pretty damn good mom, all things considered.

Cathilda Ceili: 8/10. She's the parent that Fabian needed, even if he didn't always realize it. She's sweet, she's caring, and if anybody hurts her boy, she will fucking rock your shit. (Also, the reveal of Cathilda being an incredibly fearsome and ruthless pirate outside of Solace was one of my favorites.)

Wilma Thistlespring: 9/10. She's a caring and supportive mom who writes songs, is sex-positive, and loves her son! Again, she does need to recognize when she's embarrassing Gorgug, and she needs to recognize that he's gotta learn how to be angry, but still! We all love her!

Lydia Barkrock: 9.6/10. While she doesn't quite get the full score due to the fact that her son was briefly an ass, it clearly was not her fault, and from what we've seen of her, she is a fantastic mom. She's a badass disabled powerhouse who cooks incredible spreads and cares about her son and his friends a lot. I love her a lot. She's amazing.

Sklonda Gukgak: 10/10. She took that spot in her very first scene, where she poured water in her cereal so Riz could have milk in his, and she's been holding it up ever since. Despite the fact that she's constantly swamped with work, Sklonda is literally one of the best moms you could ever ask for. She deserves the world and it's a constant injustice that she's not getting it.

Bonus: Garthy O'Brien, while having transcended gender and therefore not being able to fit into either of the "mom/dad" rankings, is an 11/10 parent---not just to Ayda, but to everyone younger than them who they've essentially adopted. Words cannot express my adoration for this person.

[anonymous-existences]

Chapter 3 : Love Advices And a Creepstick™

I'm going Insane, Anyways. Enjoy this Long ass Chapter.

[𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚁𝚘𝚠, 𝙲𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝙰𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚢, 𝚁𝚎𝚍 𝙷𝚘𝚘𝚍'𝚜 𝚃𝚞𝚛𝚏]

Dan was walking to Crime Alley with his long Hair tied up in a bun, he puts on his Red Crimson Cap and put his gun In a holster hidden under his shirt hanging by his belt for safety precautions. "Oi! Sup Dan." He heard Hood from afar on top of a fire exit, Dan waves by tipping his hat up. Dan still wore a mask as to not attract too much attention to the albinism features he showcases. "I heard you needed me from The Chron(Clockwork) Man." Hood laughs as he hopped out of the fire exit and heading to Dan. "Don't worry it's not babysitting this time." Dan chuckles and pats Hood's Head as they walked Jason's apartment discreetly, Dan already know Jason was Red Hood because of them sparring and Dan accidentally using his "meta" fire powers and burning half of the Mask.

"I still feel guilty for burning your first mask." Dan mutters and Hood laughs waving that off, "Think of it like payback when I tried to stab you for being suspicious and it also convinced me to finally get a new mask so it's fine." Jason laughed and Dan pats his head. Jason took off his mask, "so what's up?" He plopped on the couch. "I need courting advices.... How do you court a man?" Dan says and Jason almost choked on his soda in surprise. "Damn, on your age? How old are they?" Jason asks hesitantly, "I am not that type of person... And also the same age as me." Dan says as he opened a bag of chips and lowers his face mask to eat as they watched Telenovelas in Jason's Apartment.

"Why do you think I know anything about that...?" Jason tilts his head, "Oh please, if you swore your on your brothers lives and say you're not gay they'd die." Dan states earning him a pillow to the face. "It's true, you're quite zesty with Roy at times." Jason scoffed, "I am not he has a kid for god's sake—" Jason combs his hair, "uh-huh but still... How do you court someone?" Dan asks again much more amused tone this time. "Flowers, gifts, serenade them if you must." Jason says casually as If Dan wasn't some rich Dad. "Jason... I'm... I'm a single father, and that man also has many kids. We're the same age. I've fucked him—" Jason gagged, "Ew, don't tell me about your love life dad— I mean Dan. DO NOT LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT!!" Jason threw more pillow and Dan just laughs, Jason has called him dad in rare but more common occasions and the excuse will always be, "I ONLY CALLED YOU THAT BECAUSE DAN AND DAD HAVE ONE LETTER DIFFERENCES!!" Jason scoffed in anger and Dan just nods as he caught all the pillows being thrown at him.

Jason looks so much like when Danny was younger, white hair streak, Black Messy and Puffy Hair, Trauma Scars and more, Vigilantism type of shtick, even the Autopsy Scar and Baby Blue Eyes. "You look so much like Danny... Maybe he'll grow up to look like you." Dan smiles and Jason finally eases down, "but as I was fucking saying you old timer. You can court men with either cute meets or something. Act like it's a coincidence, say it must be fate or hell.... According to the Telenovelas we are watching send him love letters." Jason sat back down and settled himself deep in the soft pillows of the couch as they continued to watch the drama.

"Oh my god, Kristina has a twin sister?Al and She and Her Husband didn't know?? HE'S BEEN FUCKING HU—" Dan watching the twists "HE FUCKED HER TWIN SISTER INSTEAD OF HER IN THEIR WEDDING NIGHT AND BOTH OF THEM GIRLS ARE PREGNANT???" Both Dan and Jason Gasped Loudly and Dramatically, this was something they didn't expect to happen as a twist in their favorite telenovela. "¿Qué carajo acaba de pasar?" Dan mutters and Jason shrugged still mouth agape, "i swear to my brothers ungodly unfortunate love lives this wasn't something I expected either. There was no hints but, THAT FILLS IN THE PAST PLOTHOLES!!" Jason yelled and opened another bag of chips.

"What if I adopt you?" Dan asks suddenly and Jason looked at him with a nonchalant "are you serious?" Face and sighed, "Too late I'm already adopted also I'm in my 20s fuck you dad— DAN— DAMMIT—" Jason cursed and Dan laughed. "who are you crushing on anyways?" Jason asks as he calms down as he starts eating his chips.

"Specifically who did you fuck?" Jason mutters.

"Bruce Wayne."

Dan casually says and Jason just stared at him, "MY DAD?!" Jason yells in shock, "Bruce Wayne is your DAD?!" Dan yelled back, "YES BITCH! MY NAME IS JASON PETER TODD-WAYNE!!" Jason yells as he stood up and points at himself still shocked, "OH IM SORRY BUT I DONT DO BACKGROUND CHECKS ON EVERYONE!!" Dan yelled back and both men sighed. "So let me settle this straight.... You fucked MY Dad. And then... You want to court him? Jesus Christ Spare me today. When will you ever spare me of these types of bullshit?" Jason pinches the bridge of his nose and groans in defeat, "So that's what the little Brat was talking about..." Jason just drags his hand down his face and Dan tilts his head.

"Which one?" Dan asks and continues to watch the telenovela as if he didn't just find out He's planning to court Jason's Dad, Brucie-Fucking-Wayne but okay— "Stabby Stabby and Sleep Deprived." Jason just dialing someone. "Let me call someone to process this information for me." Jason sighs "it's not that ba—" Jason shots him a glare "YOU FUCKED MY DAD AND WANT TO COURT HIM! THAT'S WHAT'S BAD FOR ME—" Jason just yelled. "I mean you already call me your Father as well so why not—" Dan was cut off by Jason throwing his slipper at him, "that's rude." Dan laughs and throws it back at Jason who catches it and steps out the apartment to answer his calls. "Dick." Jason answers, "Okay so B isn't possessed or A Clon—" Jason cuts him off, "Dick. Listen. Remember the Guy I said is like a second father figure to me?" Jason says hesitantly. "Yeah...?" Dick Says slowly trying to get the hint of what Jason is about to say.

"He's the one who Got B like that. The one who forced B into Bed Rest for a Sore Back." Jason states and is met with a yell of shock, "WHAT??!? THE NICE BIG GUY?? THE GUY WHO IS TALLER THAN BRUCE?!?! THEEE DAAAN??!?" Dick just questioning, "SHUT THE FUCK UP AND YES HIM DICK." Jason yelled back, "Okay... Okay.... I know for a fact that Even Damian has Met Dan— and approved of him being around Us because he is very Kind and Caring and Also his sister is badass and also because He's badass when he needs to and the baby bat thought it was cool— BUT WHAT?!" Dick just having mixed emotions stirring in his chest, I mean how do you process the guy who is both. Heart of gold and Has Had Blood Bathed Hands be— WHAT—.

"Exactly My reaction and this bitch just told me he wants to Court Bruce." Jason groaned loudly, "Oh My God... This is Wild! this is amazing. LET'S push FOR IT! HE'S A GOOD MAN!!" Dick laughs, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN PUSH FOR IT?!" Jason just wanted to strangle or shake Dick if he was even there but he sighs in defeat.

"Gods Have Mercy On My Fucking Sanity." He taps his feet on the floor in irritation and also slowly considering it. "Yeah... The Man's good and his sister forced most of my guys into therapy with her for free. Alfred needs a teammate and she can be that teammate." Jason just started chuckling, visibly and mentally scheming about how they can use Jazz to Put the Batfam into Therapy.

News Rolled around the Television, Joker has escaped again. ".... Jazz is so gonna be pissed...." Dan mutters and Jason just nods in agreement as he comes back inside the apartment, "isn't he, her patient?" Jason asks, "Yeah, she beats him with a Sandal if he doesn't behave and she takes away his Pinkie Pie Collection that she bribes him with. She has full authority over the man and I couldn't be more terrified of my own sister." Dan sighs then suddenly he stood up stunned. "... Something's wrong though.... Something's wrong." His Dad Senses? Fraid Senses? Whatever it was it is tingling and bells ringing like crazy and he wasn't fond of that feeling, "I'll try your love advices Jaylad, I might just become your Stepfather ya know." Dan laughs, "as long as you force my family into therapy I absolutely am in for it." Jason laughed and watched Dan jump out of the 3rd floor apartment and bolt out of the alley.

[𝙹𝚊𝚣𝚣 𝙿𝙾𝚅]

She lost Danny and Ellie in the crowd of panicking people, an explosion on the right side of the mall occured, Jazz turn on her phone and comms to start tracking the two kids. She yelled out their names but she dragged with the crowd, Her Worry was begining to stir up in her chest, worsening by the second she does not have her sights on them.

"Danny! Ellie!" She cried out, tears forming at the edge of her eyes frantically looking around in a panic, "Auntie..." She heard through the comms in Ellie's Dress. "Hic... I'm scared.... The clown man is looking for us... Danny hit his head and won't wake up.... Hic.." Ellie says her voice trembling in fear.

"I-I'll come find you Ellie, where are you— please tell me—" Jazz heaves desperately, "I-I don't know... It's Da—"

"Found you~"

Ellie screamed and the comms was cut off, "Ellie!" Jazz yelled out but soon realized their communication was cut off.

Jazz could feel her blood pumping, she opened a pocket portal and pulled out her Phantom CreepStick™, her eyes felt as though at any moment it's gonna glow a neon green, her body was trembling in anger.

"I'm gonna kill that fucking clown..." She mutters under her breathe, she forcedfully walked her way through the crowd of people until there was no more, She snuck out the mall seamlessly without anyone noticing her presence at all as if though she never existed at all

She furrowed her brows her heart filled with rage, "I will not let anyone... Hurt my family ever again." She mutters under heavy breathes as she tracks Ellie's and Danny's Location through her phone.

The tears on her tears rolled and she wipes them her face turning serious and almost devoid of any sympathy or mercy. She dials Dan's Number who answered immediately, "They're on the News." Dan says as he bolted to where the location is saying Danny and Ellie was being hostage by The Joker.

Joker was Monologuing as Jazz expected in the 'Live Stream', "I'm heading there now.... He's talking about you and Bruce Wayne's Fucking One night stand, Dan. Just so you know once Vlad wakes up I'll let him deal with you." Jazz sternly voiced out as she felt a low growl under her breathe, so aggresive yet so calculative.

Dan growled on the phone as he watched the so called stream, Sam was on the line, "Tucker found em and pinpointed which floor they're located." Sam was floating from afar on top of a building, "I see Batman and Nightwing. And an Extra Red Hood heading to the same location. Aren't they fast but will they be useful? No idea. "

"I'll Beat Joker Myself. Im almost there. I stole someone's bike." Jazz says over the Comms, "You stole something— did you atleast pay for it?" Sam asks, "I Gave them an envelope of Money." Jazz states, "Makes Sense." Dan says, he was bolting with his bike to The Location absolutely breaking every speeding law as he does so.

Sam floated over to the Abandoned Warehouse and Saw Batman trying to assess the situation but to no avail the kids are currently surrounded by Poisonous gas filled canisters in a tube that could kill their small bodies with ease, Ellie was sobbing. "Tucker. There's poison gas bombs. Like poison gas bomb contraptions, I'm waiting for you Jazz."

Dan Growls in the comms and Jazz reaches the abandoned warehouse first, any goons of Joker she came across she knocked out with ease. "Danny's still unconscious, Ellie is too scared to go intangible, Grab Em Sam." Jazz orders and Jazz Hummed an Approval and she swooped in and went visible for a moment grabbing Danny and Ellie and going invisible with the two children before the poisonous gas he apparently concocted kicks in and fully kill the two.

Joker was confused, he thinks it's something Batman Did and Jazz with her Creepstick Dragged it across his face sending him to the wall, she was heaving filled with adrenaline and she charged at Joker and Hit him again, all live on TV. Red hood was there only because it was joker and he babysits those two babies and He's cheering for Jazz as she fully knocked the Crazy Clown Up with her Now bloody Metal Bat.

She whips her head around and glares at Batman, "You're too slow. You don't wait until something happens Batman." Jazz muttered, her eyes feeling as tho they're piercing right through their souls. Jazz picks up her bat again and threw it at the camera that was recording live and Destroyed it, the Bat even sticking to the wall.

"Brutal" Tucker says over the Comms. Jazz sways her hair and walks away as she picks up her Bat and Pulls it out of the wall. "Hood list that as number 29 of the many reasons why I shouldn't piss her off ever again." Nightwing says, "On it." Hood confirms and Sam became Visible again and Let's the two kids run to Jazz, Jazz's gaze softened and she gasps for air in relief and kisses their foreheads and hugging them tightly, Danny was silent but he cried upon realization of what almost happened, Ellie couldn't stop sobbing her eyes out and Hood Approached them casually and Just Stood beside Jazz.

"Hood should I call the police?" Sam asks and pulls out a phone, "yeahhhh, do that Manson" Hood affirms her and She nodded and dialed the Police Number. "Dan's Incoming." tucker says through the comms again and Dan destroyed the wall beside Jazz, he took was filled with adrenaline as the twins called out to him and jumped in his arms.

Jazz slowly stood up and dusting her knees and dress, "Shopping for toys turning into I beat the joker to near death for the 15th time since the month I've been here in Gotham." Jazz sighs and Dan was sobbing whilst hugging the twins.

Jazz looked at Batman who was already behind her. They talked and Batman almost asks to recruit her for her talents but Jazz refused, "I like the little bit of normalcy that's left in my life thank you." She waves the Big Bat Off. " I already retired from the Part-Vigilantism Shtick when I was 18." she blurts out, "Same" the Goth girl, possibly Gothamite Sam Manson Yawned.

Half an hour later and the Police Arrived to arrest the goons and Joker (Again), they did not fight back this time due to Jazz's Supervision, truly a terrifying woman when serious, this is why she was always fit for the job in Arkham Asylum.

Batman tried to recruit Jasmine again but she refused again, "As I said Big Bat, I don't plan to become anyone's hero again. I'm quite fine with supervising the Rogues and helping those mentally insane sentient people the comfort of understanding." She sighs softly and Sam was beside Dan who was hugging Danny and Ellie, they would arrest Dan for breaking speeding laws but for now they couldn't because of the reasons and his sister's Successful immediate apprehension of the Joker.

"He's no joker, If he himself is the Joke." Sam jokes and Dan chuckled slightly. Batman couldn't stop glancing at Dan occasionally, "B I swear to fucking Gotham Gods." Hood was judging Batman, "I am doing nothing wrong Hood." He states and Hood just groans in annoyance totally done with the Man's Antics.

"I babysit his kids, I can always set you two up—" Jason suggests but Dick Interrupts, "Hood it's not the time to suggest dating advice to B, he's not even good at Keeping a wife—" Batman shot them both a glare accompanied with a slight scowl at that comment.

Clockwork or 'Chrono' soon stopped by the location to pick up his 'Wards', Dan slowly hopped inside the car gently placing an exhaust Danny and Ellie down in the Backseat and putting them in their seatbelts, Sam also hopped in. "CW, I need to take my bike with me, I'll follow you all home okay?" Dan raises his head and looks at Clockwork and the Man nods, "Ofcourse, Master Dan, I'll also tell them that you went out to buy them something so make sure to come home with some food they'll like." Clockwork reminds him and Dan smiles.

"Ofcourse." Dan sighs in relief, "Since I stole someone's bike im also taking it home." Dan puts her helmet back on and Nodded at Jazz before driving off before Clockwork. The police started asking Jazz questions, She Was very cooperative with their questions and even came to the precinct for more questions to be answered.

"See B, you lost the chance to ask out the Big Hunk of A Family Man Mixed with Possible "I'll kill for my family" mentality." Hood lectured Batman again and Batman just Grunts in disapproval and denial. "My interest is not headed that way Hood." Batman merely hums out and patting Hood's Shoulder, Batman could feel that Hood just rolled his eyes behind his mask and Nightwing Chuckled in visible amusement, "We should head back to the cave now." Nightwing reminds them and Batman grunts in what they could only assume was an Approval to Nightwing's suggestion.

[𝙱𝚊𝚝𝙲𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝙿𝙾𝚅]

"Joker just got his ass beat live by an auntie of the two kids he kidnapped." Red Robin blurted out holding back a laugh, "And I assume it's going Viral Red?" Robin asks as he walked closer to the Bat-Computer, Red Robin bursting out laughing was enough approval that it indeed was going Viral.

"A bat.. Uncultured Choice of Weapon but it's Better than nothing." Robin states and Red Robin kept laughing before eventually he fell out of his seat. Black Bat was walking to them in confusion as she sees Red Robin on the floor, "Sane?" She asks Robin, "Yes Yes. He's sane, in his words I shall state, "Joker just got his Arse Beat" and it is now going trending and Viral with the Tags "#BeatThatClown" and "#StanningJazzMasters" which seems to be the name of the woman who put joker in a near death situation." Robin sighs as Red Robin kept Laughing.

"it's absolutely everywhere right now Cass, it's so funny, She even Told Big B that he was slow." Spoiler laughed and helped Red Robin stand up as he slowly calmed his Laughing.

"Jasmine Masters, she's an odd Individual. She works at Arkham Asylum as one of the top psychiatrists to have helped many of the asylum's population become 'normal' again to society's standards of Sanity." Robin states as he does a minor background check on the girl through another laptop.

"Perhaps The Masters Family are just full of odd and peculiar People." Robin shuts his Laptop and scrolling through the posts of Joker Memes slowly being posted one by one of the Man getting Beat Up.

"People are fascinating creatures of unhinged intellect." Robin mutters and Spoiler Scoffs, "you're talking as if you're not a 'people' as well" She rolls her eyes and Robin just huffs and glared at her. "There will be no Stabbing Master Damian." Alfred interrupts them as he placed 4 plates of snacks on the table and left promptly not before taking away Damian's knife Making Damian groan.

"Deserved." Oracle chuckled as Damian Pouted. Black Bat just Pats Damian's head to comfort him. "I am quite alright Cain, just upset that my dearest backup weapon has been compromised by Alfred." Robin huffs and Black Bat nodded at her Baby Brother's Cuteness and Childish Antics even if it is a bit dangerous.

"Their family is so weird..." Red Robin muttered doing background checks on the Masters but he dares not to go too far unlike before. "Sometimes there's nothing sometimes there's everything... It's so suspicious." Red Robin was suspecting them of being a criminal family, "Dante Is Hood's Crime Alley Father Figure as I have checked in the Past." Robin stated and The three just looked at him with the Red Robin just baffled. "The one he accidentally calls dad when on comms?" Red Robin asks completely shocked.

"Yes Drake." Robin did not elaborate any further on the statement he randomly drops on them like a bomb despite the two being Red Robin and Spoiler trying to Bribe him or Persuade him to spill he just refuses to do so.

He turns his head away and hopped off his chair and simply goes back to the Manor and ignores the two.

"I will simply not budge for anything, and if you truly wish to know more stood bothering me with your silly antics face Todd himself." Damian scoffs.

"Goddamit." Tim curses under his breathe.

[lostintransist]

Liaison - Chapter 2 - Da’ Fuck is a Roadman

The worst part about your job had to be the commute. The trip to the office each day took nearly an hour. Between the two trains, one bus, and a half-mile walk any energy you might have had been used up. You did not mention to anyone on the team where you lived and that you refused to buy a car. Mostly you were sure that your years of driving on the right side of the road and turning on red lights would lead to you killing someone in a vehicular collision and would rather avoid that.

The old building you shared with three other tenets creaked every time the wind blew and your small studio in the basement required two dehumidifiers to keep mold from overtaking the space. The jaw-cracking yawn overtook you as you stepped off the bus. You make it as far as the front door before the exhaustion becomes too much. You manage to brush your teeth, rip off your bra, and toss on an overlarge shirt you stole from an ex before sleep steals you away.

The weekend slips by too quickly for your liking. You can see the emails piling up in the inbox of your work email, anything truly urgent would CC Kate who worked nonstop. You stop into a cafe on your way home from the weekend market, happy to start to recognize the barista behind the counter. Sunday afternoons you did your shopping for the week and rewarded yourself with a scone and a warm latte. The day is capped off with a video call with a friend in Maryland and by eight you are asleep.

You wake early, 4 AM the alarm goes off to make it to the office for your 6:15 call. You dress simply in jeans, rain boots, and a long-sleeved green shirt. Starting on the walk for the bus you clock the young man posted up at the edge of an alley. You keep an eye on him but don’t change course as you continue closer to where he stands.

When you get within ten feet of him he jumps out and mumbles some words at you.

Tilting your head at him you try and process the sounds you heard.

“Wanna run that by me again kid?”

He mumbles the same words, louder and makes a vaguely threatening gesture.

“Yeah, I got nothing. Good luck with whatever you need,” you step into the road to continue past him.

Mumbler jumps in front of you, shouting now.

“I’m trying to rob ya you stupid American!”

“Why didn’t you say that back there?” Hooking a thumb over your shoulder to point to where this interaction started. “Also you don’t have a gun, do you even have a knife?”

As he starts to sputter the youth in his face is evident.

“Okay, so how does this shtick work?” gesturing to all of him, you continued. “Do you just walk up to people and demand their wallets or what?”

“Yeah, give me all your money!”

Mentioning wallets seemed to re-energize him.

“No thank you,” you start walking again. If you don’t make up the lost time you will delay yourself at least fifteen minutes and might need to call a cab to make it to work for your phone call.

❈❈❈

The hardest part of your job, second only to dealing with people who didn’t understand your role, would be the lack of consistency of who might be in the office from day to day. Harold hadn’t been at his desk when you finally rolled in, already accepting the call you had scheduled for this morning in the lobby. You waved to the one person at a computer as you dumped your things and asked for a moment of patience from everyone on the call as your headphones connected.

The call dragged on for nearly an hour as you stayed on mute replying to emails. When a question could not be answered by anyone else you jumped into the conversation, explaining you had three options for a team that would fit their needs. At this point, you would need a timeline and payment. Confirming the email address took another five minutes, back and forth. When the call wrapped up the clock ticked closer to 9 AM.

Letting your head slam against the desk you took a series of deep breaths. A message tone dinged from your computer. Looking up you found a message from someone named Roach.

>Calls that bad?

Turning you catch sight of the person who had been in the office when you arrived.

“You Roach?”

>That’s me.

Masked and covered from head to toe, the man looked as innocent as a bloodied tiger. You saw a lot of men like that lately. Something about this job had them covering up more than a nun in a convent.

“Okay, I’m still meeting everyone. And no? The call wasn’t that bad but I ended up being late because some fucker I think tried to rob me?” After explaining the whole situation this morning to Roach he sends you a message through the chatting platform.

>You met a roadman.

“Da’ fuck is a roadman?” Incredulity had become a familiar state since moving to England.

Staring at Roach you wait for his typed response. He looks at you, makes a face beneath his mask, bobs his head from shoulder to shoulder, sighs, and puts his fingers on the keys.

>A roadman is what you might call a mugger in the US.

“No, a mugger has a gun or a knife and can back up his threats. That child told me to give him all my money and couldn’t even find a decent threat to make me comply. All the bastard did was make me late.”

Roach’s only reply to this is a hearty shrug.

A voice from behind has both you and Roach spinning in place.

“Liaison I need a contract confirmed,” someone barked at you.

The demand hits wrong after the roadman incident and the achingly long call. You turn to see a large man, again in a mask, staring at you from near the door. This mask looked hard, the upper face half of a skull. This must be Ghost; Kate had warned you about him.

“I must have missed the question in that statement, care to try again?”

Roach’s brows nearly touch his hairline as he quickly averts his gaze.

The tall, broad Lieutenant moved faster than his shape would indicate he could. He looms over you, hard skull and eye black leaving no color beyond the whites of his eyes.

“Did I stutter Liaison?”

“No, but you might need to if you try to tell me what to do without asking again.” You flick a nail against his mask. “Now if you’ll excuse me I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Slipping from beneath Ghost’s shoulders you make it two steps before his hand wraps around your bicep. Snapping back to look at him you contemplate the wisdom of punching him.

“Ghost! Let her go,” Price’s command splits the air.

He lets you go with exaggerated care. You flip him the bird, hiding the move from Price using your body. You stalk up to Price who is staring Ghost down over your shoulder.

“Did he hurt you?” Price asks as you draw near. He wasn’t Ghost’s captain but had recently been promoted to work directly below the elusive Sheppard. You tried to keep up on who worked under who but with so many moving parts you had to check your spreadsheets every time you had a question.

“No, I’m fine. But next time the meathead needs something from me tell him to send an email and to use all his manners.” You sweep past Price and head for the kitchen. Might as well start some bread so you can beat something up.

That second interaction with Ghost solidified the tone of your relationship. The same day he threatened you with his size and laid hands on you he found you in the kitchen. You pulled the tray of rolls out of the oven when he spoke.

“I’ll take one of those.”

Without pausing to consider you shut the oven softly and tip the hot pan over, spilling the steaming buns onto the floor. You don’t even try to make it look like an accident.

“Whoops. Guess you forgot to ask for something you wanted.”

You ignored the fuming soldier behind you as you set the hot pan on the stove to cool and cover the dough and place it in the fridge for later. You gave it an hour before checking back to find the kitchen clear and cleaned up the rolls from the floor.

Three weeks later you are pulled from an important email by a fist in your hair. Ghost growls in your face.

“What the hell did you agree to with Sarcosis?”

A wince you can’t stop slips. “Hair pulling is a kinky thing for me Ghost, you ready to follow up on this offer?”

Disgusted, he lets you go. Then Soap is there, pushing between you two. Rubbing the back of your head you decide to answer. He did ask a question after all.

“Sarcosis needs to borrow one man, someone who can play spotter for one of their snipers. Job is less than three days. I wrangled a favor to borrowing one of their men if we ever need ‘em.”

“Why take the job?” Soap peers over his shoulder, hand still firmly placed on Ghost.

“All Keith is asking for is an impartial set of eyes to confirm a kill. They aren’t on the no-fly list. Do they need to be?”

“No-fly list?” This question comes from Ghost.

“Yeah, the no-fly list.” You pop open a sticky note from your screen, enlarging both the note and the words you let the men read the list you got from Kate. “Taking jobs with these guys won’t fly, hence the no-fly list.”

Ghost takes a deep breath, tucking the demon’s demeanor back behind his vest. Soap lets his hand drop back to his sides.

“Now if all this excitement is over I am going back to my emails,” turning your back to the men you return your screen to normal and type away at your ongoing email.

Roach sends you a message that you see but don’t reply to.

>Sarcosis nearly got Ghost killed on their last job, might want to flag them for your no-fly list.

Ghost and Soap stand behind you for an uncomfortably long time. When they eventually move you pull your headphones on and settle into the chaos of never-ending emails.

❈❈❈

It took you six months to figure out the rules for jobs. You had asked Kate, repeatedly. Each time she gave an answer about whether to accept or reject, you would question her. Why accept this job and not this one? Over and over you asked and the answer always amounted to a feeling. Vibes. You took notes on every call and Kate’s decision since she couldn’t articulate why to accept one job over another. She had worked with the 141 for so long that she had a sense for these things.

Those six months were grueling, but you found a pattern. The price of a job could be relied upon to weed out anything the team wouldn’t take. The numbers broke down to roughly £20,000 per man per job. The more complicated the explanation the more guys you figured would be needed. That rule of thumb would be right more often than not.

The guys would take rescue missions but were better equipped to handle situations where there would be no witnesses. They worked well with teams from most companies and governments but there were a few that several men refused to work with again. It was a small list but the fact you recognized each name on sight often gave you a queasy sensation in your stomach.

Enough of the team would submit requests to take one job or another you had to start a running list of preferences and skills. Pinning down hard skills turned into a bit of an issue so you had a self-reported list and a list of skills reported by others. The sheer number of interconnected spreadsheets and the random formulas learned to create boggled your mind. Once one of the members of the accounting team, Doreen, saw your massive spreadsheet she collected the general information known about the office to add to your knowledge pool. She also helped you break out the information about each member into a separate file that fed into your master sheet. Doreen, for as old as she was, had a vast understanding of spreadsheets. The search function would become a new god in your role.

Chapter 1 |

Masterlist

@nicroyal02 Chapter 26 is up on A03

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

The explanation for Lila’s several moms that zoe-oneesama came up with in Scarlet Lady’s Episode 52 Part 7 Bonus is one that I’ve officially adopted into my brainstorming for stories that still include those characters instead of wipe the plot point entirely, especially since the writers couldn’t be bothered to at least explain how Lila’s bio dad plays into all the craziness (or confirm if it was just a donor situation) much less make the several moms thing actually make sense, though that’s probably for the better considering their track record with dads. “That sure was a mystery that didn't need solving” WELL I SURE APPRECIATE YOU SOLVING IT, ZOE, ‘CAUSE IT SURE NEEDED TO BE!! One of the most EYEROLL-WORTHY, unnecessary things canon has done to attempt making any character seem smarter than they actually are, good grief. Speaking of which, how would you have canon!Lila’s personality and shtick actually work with the rendition of her family shown in that SL bonus image from the get-go?

For those who don't read the comic, the solution is pretty simple: Lila has divorced parents leading to two step-moms and one biomom. This setup actually works pretty well for a manipulator. Not on the nonsense scale that we get in the final few episodes of the season where Lila is revealed to have multiple identities, but on the small scale we all assumed Lila was working on for most of the show.

Lila's 14, old enough for some independence, which means that she's able to do things like telling the first set of parents that she's at the second set's house and vise versa, allowing Lila to run around doing shit without her parents knowing. This is extra true if one or both sets of parents travel a lot and both sets believe Lila when she says, "Oh, that's fine, set A will be home that well, so I'll just stay with them."

It actually makes things like her skipping school make more sense if she's doing it by jumping between homes. Same goes for her weird secret lair. Easier to set that up if everyone thinks you're home safe and sound. Divorced parents is just generally a really good route to go for a manipulative teen.

[autism-alley]

hi originally posted this at the end of a long thread of back and forth, here’s the og post if you want full context but i feel like this needs to be its own post especially bc i keep seeing this argument being made—the argument that the kids (in this case it was annabeth) SHOULD just know the monsters are monsters and who they are and how to defeat them before ever encountering them, that it’s a problem if they don’t.

the problem is not if 12 year olds should recognize a trap when they see one, even if they’re smart 12 year olds, and if that’s realistic. that is entirely beside the point.

the problem is rick riordan wrote a book series whose formula is bringing myths to the modern age and he’s not sticking true to that in the show—percy jackson and the olympians’ Shtick is taking these classic, ancient threats and giving them a new face. these traps work because these kids are not walking into a cave marked with Get Out and getting ambushed by monsters—the monsters are disguised as harmless mortal human beings, in harmless mortal human being places (for the most part) and i think we—and more importantly, the show—are all forgetting the mist, the magic involved here. it’s not just that medusa is a “creepy lady with her eyes covered” it’s that there is ancient magic at work here, magic that, like the systems of abuse pjo exists to criticize, has been evolving and continuing its malevolence for millennia. it’s formulaic, that’s the point. it’s the same trap you’ve learned about all your childhood, the same trap a thousand children before you learned all their childhoods, and still, it works. you fall into the trap. because that’s how generational abuse works. it’s a trap. it isn’t enough to learn monsters exist, what they look like from a second hand story that originated thousands of years ago. if you want to escape alive, you have to adapt as quickly as they do, recognize their face, and ultimately, beyond any individual trap, the game itself has to change. real, generational change.

so. the problem is rick riordan wrote a series with a formula for action that perfectly captures the overarching, systemic conflicts he was commentating on, and then threw that formula out in the show because it was “unrealistic”. i don’t give a damn about realism when it works to the detriment of the story. this is a story about generational abuse, yes, but it’s told through ‘a tale as old as time’ and that’s why it works so fucking well. and when it comes to basic storytelling, if your characters know the threat before they even walk in and you do practically nothing to then make up for the stakes you have removed, that’s a flaw. now you’ve lost the entertainment value for your audience, on top of also lessening your themes.

something else that is so. honestly soul-crushing as a writer and a creative, is that to me this is reflective of the way we are now afraid to tell earnest stories. stories where we care not for listening to the people who want to pick apart fictional, mythical, fantasy stories for not being “realistic” instead of aligning with our target audience who acknowledges reality is not what makes a story. think of your favorite movie, show, book, comic, what have you—has the reason for your favoritism ever been because it is the most reasonable, the most grounded, the most practical out of any you’ve seen? or is it because of the emotion? the way it speaks to you, to your life and the person you are? the journey it takes you on? is the percy jackson and the olympians book series so good because it’s inherently realistic?

the secret to storytelling is, very simply, focus on your story. everything else is secondary. if it’s written well, it doesn’t matter to me that the characters walk into a trap that, to the audience, is obviously a trap. because i can understand how the characters don’t know it, and how the story falls apart if the narrative just tells the characters it’s a trap from the jump. that’s what dramatic irony is—first used in greek tragedies! this is literally a tale as old as time in every sense except for the end—where it’s happy. and it’s not earned if we don’t first see, over and over, the status quo as a tragic trap.

it’s not about if annabeth (or the other kids) is “smart enough” to not walk into a trap, or about if she’s just too prideful to not walk into what she knows is a trap (or any reason that could apply to the other characters), it’s that annabeth, at the end of the day, is a character. she is a storytelling tool for the messages of the narrative. that doesn’t make her any lesser. in fact ignoring it reduces her, because it reduces what she represents. it’s about how rick riordan, or whoever else at disney, has fumbled the storytelling bag so ridiculously hard that they can’t take the simple, effective formula outlined from start to finish (by good ol 2009 rick himself) and adapt it to the screen without answering the most unimportant, derailing, anti-story questions.

[fastboatsmojito]

Nightmares - Scott Miller

| a/n; this isn’t technically for Moontober bc nightmares is day twenty seven and I have something different planned, but I woke up about an hour ago from a nightmare myself and this felt like the appropriate response tbh

| cw; just some angst and a little fluff, talk about nightmares, probably very self-indulgent idk what to tell you, one bed trope whoops, not super proofread as per the tags <3

| wc; 800

☾⋆⁺₊⋆

You woke up suddenly, out of breath and sweaty, sitting up and trying to will yourself into thinking about anything else.

“Jesus, you alright?” There was an unfamiliar softness in his voice, probably just from being woken up by your panicked breaths, though you jumped anyway, shaky as you looked over at him, uncharacteristic worry on his face as he sat up.

“Shit sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up. Just a bad dream.” You mumbled, words caught in the back of your throat proving difficult to come out, both exhausted from a restless sleep and energized from the pure panic and anxiety. That was always the worst part, being too scared of your own subconscious to go back to bed, involuntarily keeping yourself awake to stop yourself from drifting back into the personal hell you’d found yourself in before.

“Do you.. want to talk about it?” His voice still came out low, though the gruff from not having talked on purpose quite yet was peeking through. He wasn’t too sure how to comfort anyone at all - questioning himself more than you, you weren’t so used to it either; his words rather than his voice alone surprising you this time.

You shook your head, less responding to his question - though it sufficed, more trying to shake out the mental picture and get your brain to function correctly because it wasn’t difficult to understand nightmares but understanding why they happen didn’t seem to help much.

You had a sleep journal, you corrected them as best you could in your head after writing them down, you drank stress relieving tea and read articles and books on dream study and what it all means and it helps but it doesn’t fix the deepest, strangest anxieties that build up over time. The bizarre collection of everything you’ve thought about in the last month coming back to haunt you in a way that feels personal because it is.

Your brain knows the absolute worst combination of everything you’ve thought about or seen or heard, and if you eat too much fucking dairy or think about one specific thing for just the right amount of too much time, none of the rest of it matters anymore. And maybe you weren’t doing enough but maybe you just needed someone to tell you that it wasn’t real because hearing it from yourself so often was getting a little old and -

The tears were sudden - they usually are, soft and warm running down your face and you didn’t notice until a tear dropped down onto the hand still clutching your chest.

And then a warm hand was cautiously rubbing your back and your overly-worried coworker was trying to understand. Surprising himself again when a simply reassuring ‘you’re alright’ found its way out of his mouth, yawning quietly after and probably trying not to roll back over and fall asleep - bless him.

If it were just a few days ago you would’ve been shocked at the mere fact you were even in the same bed - a little mixup caused by none other than Javi, but sharing a room was excuse enough to get a little too comfortable for ‘professionalism’.

You gave up on the whole ‘oh I’ll just sleep on this tiny, uncomfortable chair for a few days until it’s sorted’ act days ago, diluting your dignity and climbing into bed with your similarly less than enthusiastic coworker who gave up on that shtick after the first night.

He wanted to go back to sleep - he really did, his eyes were practically closing themselves. But he surely couldn’t sleep next to someone actively crying and though he could be mean and - more accurately; a dick, he wasn’t completely emotionless. In fact he found himself scared that you were hurt or something was wrong and he had no way of fixing it when he woke up to your rushed breaths next to him. He still wasn’t sure he could really do anything, he didn’t tend to have dreams very much at all let alone bad ones.

There was no protocol to go over in his head about comforting a coworker-turned-roommate after a nightmare. He couldn’t exactly control your brain for you, though after a second thought he would if it’d help more than the apprehensive hand on your back.

Once you’d calmed yourself down enough and wiped the slowest string of tears from your cheeks you turned to look at Scott with something akin to a smile in the darkness.

Hoping that it made up for the lack of spoken gratitude that was clouded up in the panic in your head for the quiet comfort he wasn’t really looking to be thanked for anyway.

☾⋆⁺₊⋆