#thank you ale for the file my hero

[wolfchans]

♡ endless chan gifs ♡ [439 - 442] / ∞ – Hey, Monster! @ 2021 MAMA (211211)

[bvckbiter]

Sorry, I had a very very specific image in my mind regarding your cherry wine fic and the sequel snippets I had to share haha

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Percy whistled a tune as he entered the little cabin he had for himself, swinging the grocery bag idly. He stretched dumping the bag near the coat hangers and strutted inside the living room.

Only to freeze as he caught sight of the people on his couch.

Annabeth, his ex, was sharpening a knife, with her feet propped up on the coffee table. Alabaster laid limply, his head resting on her lap and his loose hair covering his face.

He made a confused, and frankly slightly terrified, noise. The daughter of Athena lifted her head, her sharp grey eyes pinning him to place like knives. She spinned her dagger, pressed her dagger under the son of Hecate's chin, lifting his head.

"He looks quite pretty like this, doesn't he?"

Percy decided to wisely not answer that question.

Alabaster stirred from his slumber, and Annabeth put her dagger back inside it's sheat upon noticing.

"...Beth?" Alabaster murmured, eyelashes fluttering from drowsiness. Her expression softened as she petted his hair and coed.

"Shh, go to sleep Al. You can join the conversation later," Her head snapped back to Percy, glaring, "We, have a lot to discuss."

i put off answering this ask because real life was beating my ass and i had no gas to write any fics... but here i am back in the cherry wine fic brainrot again.

and imma tell you, anon, holy shit this ask blew my mind when i first read it HAHAHAHAHAHHA i reread this ask so many times and i was like 'wow i cant believe my writing inspired something this INSPIRED' my jaw was hanging my pulse was tweaking etc etc.

the mental image of alabaster unwillingly napping in annabeth's lap while she's pretty much fucking filing her nails while waiting for percy is. SO GOOD. ,ALJGHKAJSDFHKLDJSAFHSD IM EATING IT UP AND I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS DYNAMIC.

when i started writing smartwatermagic i was very much focused on percybaster. but i've seen The Light TM thanks to others ehem ehem @everythingwasalreadypicked and this ask by @stygianoaths ... and now my brain is blaring sirens and very much obsessed with annabaster. there's so much shared history and common ground between them... young unacknowledged prodigies at chb, hero worshipping luke castellan, thrust into thankless leadership positions at young ages in a war, being deeply, irrationally driven by emotion despite being the smartest demigods of their generation, unadvisably staunch loyalty to their mothers??? i could write ESSAYS about them. guess a fic will have to do /j

all this to say, thank you thank you thank you for this mindblowing ask, anon. i love your writing! (im not saying you should hit me up or join the ta discord if you arent already in it but u def should ;DD)

[rewrittenwrongs]

Whumptober day 4: hallucinations / “you’re still alive in my head”

Chapter 1 of 3 | chapter 2 coming soon | read on Ao3 (registered users only)

Whumptober masterpost | day 3 | day 5 coming soon

TW: hallucinations (who’da guessed), (non-graphic) aftermath of a panic attack, referenced alienation

Tim… took a deep breath. Panic attacks aren’t fun, but he knew what to do after coming down.

Running through the exercise is mechanical, repetitive, not quite comforting in its familiarity. His breathing stayed elevated. He continued hearing Dick talking him through the steps, encouraging him, even though Dick was in a different country and he and Tim haven’t been on good terms for… three months, now? God. It’s been three months.

That means it’s been five since Batman was killed.

But he isn’t dead, Tim assures himself hurriedly. Bruce is alive. He was killed, but he isn’t dead.

Granted, Tim and Ra’s al Ghul are the only people on earth that think that, and Ra’s is more curious if he’s right than in agreement.

God. Tim isn’t used to being this lonely anymore. The ache of missing Dick and Alfred, of missing Bruce, Kon, Bart, Jack, Dana—when did everyone he love start dying? What primordial deity did he piss off? If there was a way to beg for forgiveness, for all the constant losses and grief and pain to stop, he would do it in a heartbeat.

But there isn’t any deity he can appeal to right now. He’s at the mercy of fate and Ra’s al Ghul now, the only thing left to do is keep looking, searching, exploring for more proof and a way to get Bruce back. He will find it. He will. He has to.

“C’mon, Tim, take a break,” the devil said with the face of Dick Grayson. This hallucination was much more accurate than the last one, down to the scar on his cheekbone, the gash where an earring used to sit, the circles under his eyes, the wisps of premature grey in his hair. The only inaccuracy was the Nightwing suit. Tim chose not to think about it, and continued wilfully ignoring the hallucination as he shakily sorted papers.

Pru was a surprisingly disorganised person, despite being an assassin. She was good at logging information, when motivated, but keeping tract of it? Never. Usually Owens did that, but he was scoping out tonight’s hit with Pru, and Z was out ordering food or something.

They didn’t quite believe in Tim’s quest, but they believed in the cause, maybe, and were plenty motivated to help him. Not only thanks to Ra’s instructions: Tim was starting to think they began to like him, in the five or so weeks they’ve been working together. It was, regrettably, mutual.

Also, he’s fairly certain Pru has been hitting on him, so that might be why she seems happy spending time with him.

“Now is not the time to be dating someone, Tim,” Dick said amusedly. As if Tim was interested in her. As if this situation wasn’t Dick’s fault in the first place.

If it weren’t for Dick, Tim wouldn’t be halfway around the world working with rambunctious assassins and a maybe-immortal cult leader. He could be finding his not-dead adoptive father with the Justice League instead, or maybe they already would’ve succeeded, and everything would go back to how it should be.

Still with some teenage hero-shaped holes, unfortunately.

Hallucination-Dick sighed like he had heard Tim’s thoughts and was disappointed by them. Which was possible, he was a figment of Tim’s imagination. Then he followed Tim to the bed and pantomimed sitting on it, appearance wavering at the edges. “You need to come home, Tim. We can get you help.”

Tim said nothing. He continued organising the files; photos mostly, documentation of various ancient artefacts that could’ve been left by Bruce. They only had one place left before they would, hopefully, have enough proof of Bruce’s existence to hand over to the League.

He tried to ignore the anxiety—what if they wrote him off as mad again and didn’t even look at it? What if something horrible happened to Tim and they weren’t able to drop off the evidence? What if they still couldn’t get Bruce back? What if—

“Come on, Tim, come home.” Not-Dick’s voice gained a desperate edge, brows pinching in a way that looked almost pleading. “You can heal from this.”

Tim huffed. “You say that like believing in the truth is an illness,” he hissed quietly. The hotel they stayed in was upscale, but the walls were still thin, and he’d prefer not to be written off as crazy by anyone else today.

“Bruce died, Tim. Kal heard his heart stop. You saw the body. Giving in to your delusions—“

“Delusions?” Tim chuckled. “I’m not delusional. I may be crazy, but I’m still right. Bruce is alive.”

“I know you want to think that—“

“Boss!”

The door to their suite unlocked and swung open. Owens and Pru entered, toting bags of surveillance equipment. “Honey, we’re home!” Pru called. Owens snickered.

Tim left his bedroom and entered the suite proper, greeting the two of them with a roll of his eyes. Pru was wearing sunglasses and had her shirt unbuttoned perhaps more than strictly necessary; Owens looked fondly exasperated as he set down the equipment.

“I see you’re still on one piece,” Tim said with mock disappointment.

Pru took off her glasses and pointed with them at him. “No need to sound so excited.”

Hallucination-Dick sighed and followed him into the room, wavering at the edges like a distorted hologram, but only when Tim glanced directly at him. Tim avoided looking at him.

“Z have an ETA?” Tim asked.

“Ten minutes,” Owens reported, lowering himself into an armchair. He looked ready for a nap.

“After dinner we can shove off,” Pru declared. “Museum’s already closed for the night, the security is lacklustre at best.”

“If we find what we’re looking for we’ll be done.” They all already knew that, but Tim just… needed to say it. It hasn’t sunk in. “We only need one more thing, then we’re home-bound.”

Pru and Owens shared a knowing look, not quite sad and not quite triumphant. “What are we doing if tonight’s a bust?” Pru asked.

Tim grinned slightly for reasons unknown to him. “We head to Iraq.”

Not-Dick sighed, and disappeared.

[hollow-prior]

[Image Description: A digitally drawn fan comic of Jason Todd/Red Hood, Tim Drake/Robin, and Talia al Ghul. Panel 1: Jason is in his civilian clothes with a white T-shirt and some stubble on his face. He is holding an image in one hand and a folder labelled 'Gotham Vigilantes' in the other. He is looking at the file. He says, "What the fuck why are there so many heroes based in Gotham now?! When I was Robin, it was just me, Batman, and Batgirl." Panel 2: Jason looks up from the file and turns the photo over to show it's a picture of Tim. Jason says, "Like this guy! Who is he?" Panel 3: Talia, dressed in a green top and white yoga pants, looks up from her phone. She says, "That was Robin. However, my latest intel says he's been replaced by a blonde girl named Stephanie Brown. That boy isn't currently operating as a hero." Jason balls up the photo and tosses it over his shoulder. He says, "Then why am I looking at his stupid face! You know what fuck this, my beef is with Bruce. I'll just wait until everyone else is out of Gotham." Panel 4: One year later, in Gotham. Red Hood, in his costume and helmet, is looking at Tim who is dressed as Red Robin. Red Robin doesn't appear to have seen him. Red Hood is thinking, "Who the fuck is that?! That's not the blonde girl Talia told me about?" Panel 5: Red Hood looks panicked behind the helmet. He thinks, "Or is it? Shit shit shit they're looking at me. Say something!" Panel 6: Red Hood gives an awkward thumbs up. He says, "Congrats on the top surgery." End ID.] [Image Description: A reply from @dinosauruswreck that reads: "In every universe Tim is both tired and awkward and I can only imagine his response being "thanks" (tiny text) bc [Because] wtf [What the fuck] do you say to the guy who throws duffel bags of heads? The fact that he knows that top surgery isn't decapitation is a miracle. End ID.]

DC can pretend that Jason knows who Tim is but I know the truth

[heaven-s-black-box]

I need a Hero pt.3- destiel

Return to File

Recovery date: December 1st, 2021

Description: Cas is banished from Heaven and place into a coma in a ring of fire. He can only be awaken if a hero crosses and cuts open his armor including his mask. Cas believes he will remain there until the apocalypse. However such a hero in the form of Dean does come and free him. Upon seeing Dean Cas professes his love onto him and Dean happily requites. But when Dean comes home to announce his new love his father, John, is outraged. He tricks Dean into drinking potion that not only erases his memories of Cas but also has him fall in love with a according to John a more suitable princess.

Notes: Recovered in conjunction with CoralQueen from research lab Ao3, we thank them for their contribution. The other entries can be found here, here, here, and here.

Word count: 851

Back to directory

“Has anyone seen my brother?” Sam asked, as he entered the kitchen.

Dean had been missing all morning. He was supposed to go get Cas this morning, and they would discuss what to do with the demons. But he hadn’t shown, and he wasn’t in his room or the dungeon. So he obviously had to be snacking in the kitchen, where else would he be at nine in the morning.

“No my lord,” the chef said.

“Does anyone know where he could be?” Sam sighed. It wasn’t like Dean to vanish without telling him.

“Perhaps he is with his highness? I believe they had something to discuss.”

“Thank you!” He called, running back out towards the stairwell.

Sam’s day had started at seven, with the usual breakfast and reading. It wasn’t until seven thirty, and Dean’s lack of yelling, that made him check on his brother. His bed was empty, and messy, which wouldn’t be a problem if it wasn’t so early. Dean despised being up before nine unless there were pressing matters to attend to, and even then. So, Sam assumed he had gone to get Cas from Ellen’s and let it be.

Until Jo requested to speak with him, not even an hour later. Dean had not been by to see Cas, and no one in town had even seen him. And so began the hunt for Dean.

“Sammy!”

Sam stopped, and turned to see Dean running from across the garden with a huge smile plastered on his face.

“Dean! Where have you been?”

“Meeting the love of my life.”

Sam choked on his own spit, and did a double take.

“I-I’m sorry?”

“You’ve gotta come meet her.” Dean grabbed Sam’s hand and dragged him towards the mezzanine in the center of the garden.

“What about Cas?” Sam hissed, keeping his voice quiet.

“Who?”

“Dean, who is this?” A lady with bright red hair asked. Sam recognized her as the princess of Haven.

“This is my brother, Sam.”

“Oh, how wonderful. I’m assuming he’ll be your best man?” She giggled. 

“Wait, you’re getting married? Since when?” Sam whispered. Dean ignored him.

Sam definitely didn’t like this woman, and he wasn’t sure if it was because she must’ve used some kind of spell or he just didn’t like her. But either way, something was wrong.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Dean said, slinging his arm around Sam’s shoulder.

Taking a deep breath, Sam plastered on a smile.

“Well, we should go out to celebrate tonight. I’m sure the others would love to hear the news,” Sam suggested. 

If this was a spell or potion, maybe Cas could do something. 

---

“Ah,” Anna said, “isn’t this place a little…”

Sam knew what she was implying. That it was too plain and simple for the crown prince and his younger brother to be spending their time in. Sam swore he saw Dean frown, but it was small and brief.

“Nonsense. They have the best ale in the kingdom, you have my word,” Dean said, and bent down to kiss Anna’s cheek.

As they entered the tavern, Sam tried to think what spell Dean could be under. At first, he’d thought it was a simple love position, however that doesn’t explain why he didn’t seem to remember Cas. If Cas couldn’t help, they’d have to go to Rowena.

“Sam! Dean!” Jo called from behind the bar. Her eyes drifted to Anna, and her brows furrowed in confusion. “Who’s this?”

Before Sam could answer, Dean spoke.

“My fiance, Anna.”

Jo’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh… When did that happen?”

“Excuse us please,” Sam cut in before the situation could get worse. He waved for Jo to follow him into the back. “We won’t be long, take a seat.”

“Sam, I can’t leav-”

“Two minutes.”

As soon as the door to the store room closed, he turned to Jo.

“Where’s Cas?”

“My mom asked him to help her bring in a shipment from the docks, he’ll be back soon. Now, Dean’s getting married?!” Her whisper rose a few pitches as she asked.

Dean had always been incredibly stubborn about marrying someone. Lebanon had never needed an alliance, so it had never been an issue. And Dean’s reluctance to marry had always spawned new, more permanent solutions. But Dean knew where his duty lay, and wouldn’t fight his father if marriage was the only course of action.

“Yes. Well, no. I think it’s some kind of love potion.”

“You think?”

“I don’t need your sass, I need Cas. Maybe he can help,” Sam hissed.

“How? True love’s kiss?”

“Wha- Wait, how did you know about that?”

“Holy,” Jo muffled a laugh, “ I wasn’t serious. Dean loves Cas?”

“What? No. Actually, I don’t know, this is Dean we’re talking about. I thought you meant Cas was in love with Dean.”

“Oh, well that one’s obvious. He never shuts up abou-”

From the main bar, they could hear the front door open.

“Hello Dean, who is this?”

“I’ll talk to Cas, you try to figure Dean out?” Jo suggested as they listened to Dean introduce Anna.

“Alright.”

[phoenixkaptain]

I think Tim is the cryptid of the superhero community. Hear me out:

In Young Justice, it’s explicitly stated multiple times that Tim Drake’s Robin has never been caught on film. There are no pictures or videos. Even earlier on, in World’s Finest Three, Tim gets Superboy to take all of the credit for taking down Metallo and Poison Ivy (something even the reporters find hard to believe) because Tim can’t let anyone know it was Robin.

Furthermore in Young Justice, the ongoing conflict between Robin and his team is that they find it hard to trust him because he can’t reveal his identity to them. But more than that, he can’t reveal his identity to anyone, he isn’t supposed to let anyone know that Robin even exists. There are fake “files” on all of the characters and even the government doesn’t know who the f Robin is, and the file questions whether or not he actually exists.

Then, there’s the part of the comics where Tim is forced to give up Robin, and Steph replaces him for a bit, and literally nobody outside of Gotham knows. He didn’t tell his friends, Bruce didn’t tell anyone, nobody knows that Tim isn’t Robin anymore. And then, he comes back. Just as out of the blue.

In the Red Robin run, it’s canon that nobody knows where Tim is aside from Ra’s al Ghul (who stalked him from the start and so shouldn’t count). Oracle doesn’t know where he is, none of his friends know (two of them are “dead,” so it’d be hard for them to know), everyone who runs into him is like “??? who tf???” Even Dick only has a vague idea. The whole point of Tam’s side plot is that it is nigh impossible to find Tim unless he decides to collapse onto your hotel room’s bed while bleeding out next to an assassin. As one does.

What does this mean?

It means that some superheroes definitely don’t believe that Tim exists, probably the younger ones. Superman or someone is like “Man, I miss the Robin that didn’t threaten me with swords,” and they’re like “Dick?” “No.” “Jason?” “No.” “??? The girl one?” “No.”

Like, some people have definitely never seen/heard of this weird third Robin, and they definitely think it’s something the older heroes are making up to mess with them. On conspiracy boards in Gotham, some people tell tale of the third Robin, the one that came before the Stabby Robin, and other people are like “You’re making this up! This guy doesn’t exist!”

I bet Duke is occasionally like “Hey, I haven’t seen Tim in like three weeks, is he still alive?” And someone else (Dick or Bruce) is just like “What are you talking about? Tim’s been sitting over in that corner.” And Duke just sees Tim unmoving in a corner, and is like “…that doesn’t answer the question, is he still alive?”

Tim is canonically, in the comics, the best at remaining unseen. He’s a cryptid. Kon and Bart tell horror stories about him and have blurry photos (taken blurrily on purpose in the same vein as Big Foot) that they show younger heroes. Jason occasionally regales his goons with stories of a creepy stalker child who fights crime. Dick tells his coworkers about his brothers but they don’t believe Tim exists because everytime they ask for a photo of him, Dick just shrugs and says he’s a bit camera shy. Damian complains about his brothers and all of his classmates are kind of worried he made up Tim, because he’s never come (it’s funny to imagine Jason and Dick and Bruce all coming to pick up Damian from school. It’s funnier to imagine that even Cass has picked him up). Several workers at Wayne Enterprises think that “Tim Drake-Wayne” is just a made up entity to keep the company out of enemy hands.

Tim is a cryptid, thanks for coming to my TED Talk

[technowoah]

Dick and Jason w League of Assassins!reader

What life would be if you were apart of the LOA [aka my personal headcanon]

- not requested!

- fem!reader

- reader headcanons!

- slight enemies to lovers

An// this has been on my mind for a while and I personally love hero/vigilante/villian!reader trope so I decided to do this! I got inspiration from other writers who did this as well 🤭 so thanks to them

Long headcanons below for Dick & Jason

Dick Grayson

Meet Cute (intentions)

Dick has a thing for strong women as you can see from his history

First time yall met he was stand off-ish and you were too.

You met when you were in your league outfit and he was nightwing. From then you two kept meeting eachother on various rooftops

"What are you doing here again?" Dick asked from behind you.

You kept your gaze on the skyline of Gotham hoping he would go away soon.

"A job" you stated.

"Nothing else?"

"No, not yet."

Silence fell over you two begging for someone to speak.

"If you ever need help navigating this place let me know" he offered still standing behind you.

"Why are you being nice to me?" You asked facing him finally.

He had this small smirk on his face, you couldn't tell if he was being serious or not when he spoke. "Cause that's what heros do."

You scoffed at that and turned around to the skyline. "See you around Nightwing."

From there on out you two kept an eye on eachother. When Nighwing was doing his job you were around and vice versa.

He knew you were following him, sometimes, but you always knew when he was around.

Dick was too intent on following you so he took himself to the bat cave and searched up your name. And when he found out you were from the Leauge of Assassins he fliped his shit

He printed out your files and placed them infront of Damian who already had a slight frown on his face, probably because he was doing homework and Dick just had to interrupt him.

"Do you know who she is?" Dick pointed to the file

"Why do you assume I do?"

"Cause you both are from the same place."

"She's older than me though." He reasoned with Dick and he frowned, but Damian spoke again. "But yes I have heard of her."

Dick was more careful around you now. Still keeping his distance, having small conversations, but trying to figure out the reason why you're here.

One night you had met again, but instead of him approaching you, you approached him.

"I need help." He noticed you avoided his eyes, well his mask, when you said that. Like you were ashamed of yourself.

"Took you long enough! What do you need help with? You need a map? I know every place in this-"

"Tell me where Damian Al Ghul is." You interrupted him and his heart dropped.

"Why?"

"Tell me. I know you have ties with him."

"You're positive I-"

"Dont make me hurt you." Your hand started to trail towards your back reaching for your sword.

He put his hands up saying he meant no harm. "I do have ties with him, but I need to know your intentions first."

"I know you already know Im apart of the Leauge of Assassins, so you should put 2 and 2 together." You stated but he still looked confused, you can tell even behind the mask.

You sighed and spoke again. "I was Damian's caretaker. I was- I am tasked with the duty of protecting him, courtesy of Talia Al Ghul."

Now It all made sense to him.

The beginning of this relationship started out with him not taking you to Damian but slowly realizing that you meant no harm.

You two worked together for a bit (doing missions together, learning about eachother, spending time together learning about eachother intentions/relationships with Damian), him not mentioning anything to Bruce about having someone from the Leauge of Assassins with him.

He knew he was prolonging your mission to make sure the kid was safe and okay. He knew he was keeping you away from your home, but he became selfish.

Sooner or later you two became attached to the hip, not leaving eachothers side.

You both made frequent trips back and forth between Bludhaven and Gotham doing yall own thing.

Slowly the masks came off and he realized you meant absolutely no harm. Caring for your family and protecting the ones that you love.

Also you realized that he cared for his family as well. He was a kind soul that you appreciated.

"I will take you to Damian."

You two were laying on his bed. You had came through his window that night in need of some comfort, you would never admit that, but you just needed someone to talk to. You claimed that you were wounded, but he saw through your lies.

He gave you his clothes to wear so you wouldn't have to lounge around his house in your uniform. So you were sitting there in a tank top and sweatpants cut to make them into shorts. It was comfortable, being with him was comfortable.

"What?"

"I mean I can't take you to him, but Ill let you see him."

"Why cant you let me talk to him?" You asked facing towards him.

"His father, his father isnt the.. ya know, biggest fan of the Leauge." Dick tried to reason with you. "But I can see what I can do."

That night he took you to another rooftop to see Damian.

Well see Damian from a distance.

He sat on the edge of the rooftop while you stood watching Batman and Robin leap their way across the night sky.

"There he is." Dick stated.

"Is he happy?" You asked quietly.

"What?" He asked.

"Is he happy?" You asked more firmly.

Dick scoffed at that question, but then he realized you dont know everything about him.

"I would be a bad brother if he wasn't."

Jason Todd

Anything you can do... (time spent)

He met you when Talia assigned you to train him.

He resented you at first because when you would spare he would get knocked on his ass more times than he could count.

"AGAIN!" Jason yelled from the floor. You just knocked him down again with a sword pointed to his throat.

"Tell me that once you get up from the floor."

He hated how snarky you was. But he also found it hot that you two used to fight all the time.

Jason loves to spar against you, its his favorite hobby. Hes always striving to get better. He also thinks its really hot how you can beat him up within seconds.

He can handle you and you can handle him its a nice balance.

You make him a better person. He'll follow you to the ends of the earth.

"I want to go somewhere." You blurted out.

You two had to stay in a hotel to perserve your identity while in Gotham and because Jason hated being stuck in his apartment. You had just came out of the shower with a towel around your body and your hair wet/tied up.

"Where do you want to go?" He was lazily staring at you from his spot on the bed.

"Somewhere not in Gotham." You chuckled trying to mask the truth.

"You miss the Leauge?" He asked.

You sat down next to him while changing your clothes. Him lying down while you were comfortable enough changing infront of him. Once you got your robe on you sat back down and sighed.

Before you spoke he beat you to it. "I hate that place. They treated you horribly."

"I learned a lot from that place."

"Lets go learn some place else then." He sat up next to you getting closer. He placed a soft hand on your cheek. "I know thats your home-"

"Jason you're my home."

He smirked. "How does Iceland sound?"

You both teach eachother different things. Different outlooks on the world, how to use different weapons.. You taught him how to use a sword and a staff and he taught you how to shoot a gun.

Jason challenges you, mentally and physically. He loves your mind. Your smart attitude, how you are never afraid to talk back to someone and stand your ground. You two are so alike.

You both are vulnerable with eachother, even on nights where he seems like he cant deal with the life he put himself in. He would never let someone else know his deepest thoughts except for you.

You met Jason's family before, but it was on accident. You had a stand off with his family as their superhero personas first, but then "officially" met them at a gala.

"Do you really want to go to this gala?" You asked tentatively.

"Bruce's gala isnt going to crash itself."

"So you're going with the intention to ruin his party?"

"Of course! Who do you think I am?" He chuckled.

By "official" I mean Dick coming up to you and introducing his family one by one by pointing them out across the room.

Damian noticed you but didn't come up to you at first.

Tim was lowkey scared of you.

Remember that one scene from Wonder Woman where she had that big ass sword in the back of her dress? That was that moment.

Jason didn't want his family in his buisness, but slowly realized that he cant get rid of them. (Especially Damian)

You both were headstrong. You followed him on his patrolling days and vice versa.

He went back and forth between Gotham and wherever you went. He claimed he didn't have much in Gotham so traveling around with you wasnt bad at all.

Again Jason would travel to the ends of the Earth. No matter where the League would send you. He'll always be there.

It would be the days where he misses the Gotham smog where he would beg you to leave the League of Assassins and live a free life with him.

"C'mon."

"No."

"Babe-"

"Dont so that to me Jason you know this is important to me." You snapped at him.

"Yeah and you're important to me too, I dont want you going on this damn suicide mission."

"I've dealt with MUCH worse."

"I bet you have. Thats why I dont approve."

"I dont need your damn approval!"

"Im your fucking boyfriend!"

"Well im your fucking girlfriend! Respect me!"

He stopped and dug his nails into his forearms. You were right. He was right.

"We'll talk about this in the morning." You reasoned.

"No. We're gonna talk now." Jason demanded.

"Its 2 am-"

"I dont give a flying fuck. We're gonna talk like adults."

And so you both did.

Jason was right about how the League treated you, but you were right about him respecting your decisions. Instead you both talked it out and the League ended up giving you a different mission anyways

He loved you, he didn't want to see you hurt, see you mistreated.

He wants the upmost best for you. Even if that means realizing that you have to leave the people who made you.

Hes your protection and your his protection.

He dosen't need his family when he has you, you understand him, you love him and you want the best for him, no matter what

That dosent mean that his family wont be in his life, they're detectives for petes sake.

And you both will run away to the ends of the earth together.

"Let's go somewhere." Jason smirked.

"Where do you have in mind?"

"Space." He grinned

"Outer space?" You questioned.

"Tameran specifically. I know someone there."

These two are gonna be the death of me 😮‍💨

[mayhem24-7forever]

Rage Becomes Him - Prologue: Homecoming

Dark!Rick Flag/Lazarus Pit!Rick Flag x Reader

Series Summary: After Colonel Rick Flag dies, Amanda Waller dumps him in the Lazarus pit and resurrects him. But she quickly realized that the soldier that had been sent to Corto Maltese to die was not the same one that walked out of the Lazarus pit. Loyal, friendly, patriotic Colonel Rick Flag was gone and in his place was a cold, rage-filled demon who becomes uncontrollable. And when he gets loose, his first stop on his revenge tour is Evergreen, Washington and a certain “hero” living there…

Author’s Notes: This series is gonna be DARK! There will be major character deaths and very mature themes throughout. Minors, this series is NOT for you, please respect my wishes and do not read this. I deserve a safe place to express myself just as much as you do. This series is based off of an idea I made in this post and then in this edit with encouragement from @edwardbaldwin and the amazing and spectacular @a-reader-and-a-writer​ who also came up with Dark!Rick’s vigilante name and beta read this for me. Thank you so much! Lovely dividers by @silkholland​

Content Warnings: DARK AND MATURE THEMES THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE WORK! In this chapter: descriptions of violence and a canon death, near-drowning, the consequences of the military industrial complex, Waller being Waller which is a huge TW in itself, nudity, resurrection

Amanda Waller sat at her desk, staring at the files from the Corto Maltese mission. It had been a month since the operation and she was still furious. Of the fourteen members she had sent to the small island country, nine were dead, one had been placed in a coma in the hospital, and the other four had used a hard drive of sensitive government information to barter for their freedom, not to mention the handlers that had betrayed her and needed to be punished. She had already arrested one of them, sending the other two to work on a special project for her in Washington with the injured, but alive and still loyal member, still in the hospital. She didn’t care about any of the deaths, they were all expendable to her, including the team’s commander and only non-criminal member: Colonel Rick Flag. It was more the principle of the thing, four of her best recruits were now off-limits and the rest of her cannon-fodder had been used up in a single mission. It would take a lot of whatever desperate enough criminals she could get to sign up to equal even half of the four soldiers she had lost.

She needed something to offset this betrayal, a soldier that would be skilled enough to do what she needed them to do and loyal enough to not betray her like the others, at least until she could find enough powerful metahumans to fill out the team. Fortunately, she had just the person in mind: a highly skilled soldier that had been able to keep up with and even control the large team of metahumans despite being a non-enhanced human. His loyalty had always been steadfast and although he had slipped up during the Corto Maltese mission, it was nothing that couldn’t be easily rectified with a little conditioning. Unfortunately, he was deceased, his corpse still somewhere in the ruins of the Jotunheim lab.

She pondered the situation, considering how she could solve this “little” issue of him being dead. An idea struck her suddenly and she smirked. It was dangerous, not for her of course, and it was as of yet untested, but if it worked she’d have her perfect little soldier back and better than ever. She sent a message off to the workers clearing the debris of the destroyed lab to focus all efforts on retrieving the body from the rubble as soon as possible. Then she pulled up a file on her laptop, locating a phone number and beginning to dial on her desk phone. She sat back in her chair as it rang, a grin on her face when the line connected.

“Mr. al Ghul… I believe it’s time to collect that favor you owe me for keeping you out of prison…” she began, pleased with herself.

“Peacemaker, what a joke…” The words echoed in his head. It was his voice, but it sounded so far away. The world was black, there was nothing and he was nowhere.

“Peacemaker, what a joke…” There it was again, his disembodied voice floating from afar, but a little closer that time. The world was still black but for a moment, it wasn’t. For a moment, he was somewhere else, somewhere he knew but couldn’t remember. Gray dust. Rusted metal. Stained white tile.

“Peacemaker, what a joke…” Closer again. The flash was back, cutting through the black for a little bit longer and he could hear something. Grunts and groans. Water running. Porcelain scratching on concrete. Suddenly, he could feel. A metal pipe. Water on the floor. A red hard drive. Warm blood. A salty metallic taste in his mouth. Pain.

“Peacemaker, what a joke…” Closer again, this time as if it was right in front of him, ringing in his ears. Pain overloaded the other senses as the black flashed in and out, losing the battle. The pain was everywhere, radiating through every cell of his body. It was excruciating and he wanted to scream but nothing happened. The black seeped out and the flash became his world.

He was in the strange room with the dust, metal, and tile. It was the basement laboratory of a secret facility in Corto Maltese. He was seated atop a man, who struggled and grunted as a metal pipe is held down on his throat. He was going to kill the man, pushing down harder and harder as he struggles for air. Then a sharp pain in his chest, in his heart. The air was knocked from his lungs, the metal pipe falling to the floor. He looked down and saw a shard of porcelain lodged right into his heart. Warm blood was seeping from it. The man was looking up at him, a strange expression on his face. Regret? Pity?

“Peacemaker, what a joke…” he muttered and the man looked hurt. And then everything was black again…

And then it wasn’t. The world was blurry, distorted and a sickly green. He opened his mouth to breathe and found it filled with acidic liquid that burned his lungs. He breached the surface, spitting out the acid and taking a huge breath of air. It was stale but he didn’t care. There was a green glow to the liquid around him, and he couldn’t see anything through it. He tried to keep himself afloat so he could breathe but his body was slow to his commands and he felt heavy. A hand grabbed his arm, then another hand on the other and he was hauled upwards and dropped on hard ground. On his knees, he tried to catch himself by putting his hands out but only succeeded in falling onto them, the dirt clinging to his wet skin. The air was cold, he was drenched, and without clothes, he started to shiver immediately. He was still heaving in breaths, his eyes looking down at a small, jagged red scar on his chest, right on his heart. The green liquid still dripped from his body, a texture somewhere between water and slime as it pooled below him, turning the dirt to mud.

The clacking sound of heels approached and a pair of red shoes came to a stop just in front of him. Still panting and shivering, he pushed himself off his arms to look up at the figures he was kneeling in front of, two soldiers standing as straight as boards on either side of a woman wearing clothes suited for an office. He knew her but her eyes had a spark of twisted joy in them and her smirk felt more menacing than usual.

“Welcome back, Colonel Flag.” Amanda Waller said. “Your country needs you…”

[badbf-cb]

Happy Birthday Lisa

/CW/ Alcohol Consumption

Jaebeom cleared a path to the private area on the second floor of the club while Changkyun followed close behind to make sure the girls didn't get lost in the crowd. Of course with it being Lisa's birthday, Minji made sure everyone knew what they were celebrating.

Lisa gasped as they entered the area reserved for them. It was as bright and colorful as she was. "Minji, I love it!" she squealed and hugged the older woman. Dancing in a small circle, she clapped her hands and laughed. "Where is the bar?"

"I'm sure we passed it on the way in," Mina said while she looked down over the railing and onto the dance floor. She spotted a few of their friends that were invited and waved. "I'm going to go dance. Anyone coming?" As soon as the words left her mouth, Lisa took her hand and dragged her back down to the dancefloor.

"I.M," Jaebeom said, "Keep an eye on them until Jungkook gets here." Changkyun nodded and followed his sister and friend into the crowd. "You know you don't have to go things like this for every birthday, right? Don't you get tired of it?" he questioned Minji.

"Not at all," she smiled. "I love seeing the excitement and happiness on their faces. It's perfect." Leaning back on the plush sofa, she wiggled her feet. She hated wearing heels that high.

"You're going to make someone very lucky one day," Jaebeom said. "Why are you even still with us? You don't belong here." Before she could answer, a waitress appeared with a tray of drinks. Jaebeom thanked her and sipped the whiskey. Minji on the other hand, frowned a little when she was handed a jack and ginger ale.

"We didn't order these," Minji said, slightly confused. Sure, a drink at a club wasn't unusual but, that specific drink was. The waitress shook her head and informed her that they were ordered by a friend before she turned and left.

Just below them, Lisa had found a few friendly faces and was enjoying the music. She was close enough to the speakers that it was a little hard to hear anything else but feeling the beat of the music was worth it.

"Happy birthday, littlest one," Jungkook said into Lisa's ear. She spun and hugged him before waving to Hyunjin. "Come on, dance with me." He pulled her away from the speakers and closer to the middle of the floor with Hyunjin right behind them.

Mina and Changkyun had abandoned the dance floor and sat at the bar. Being the caring brother he was, Changkyun made sure to keep the drinks filled and their friends happy.

The hours flew by before everyone made their way back to the private area. Minji had made sure the cake and decorations were set for when the birthday girl was ready.

Hyunjin and Mina made a quick round of the club and gathered all their friends. As they filed into the area, Changkyun handed them glasses of champagne.

"Everyone," Jaebeom said loudly. "Before we get back to our night of fun, don't forget why we're here!" He turned to smile at Lisa. "Happy birthday to my little sister and biggest pain in the ass." Everyone raised their glasses and cheered.

"Guys! Stop," Lisa said as she covered her face. "Thank you so much for being here." Her eyes searched the crowd and she blushed when they locked with one person in particular. "It really means a lot to have you here." Through she meant the last part to everyone, she hoped that one person knew it was more for them than anyone else.

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[libertineangel]

In a room in White Gold Tower stood a circle of Imperial officers, the reds and golds embellishing their dress uniforms glinting in the sunlight from the great window covering the northernmost arc of the wall. In front of it was an enormous Redguard warrior clad in the ornate black and gold plate of the Imperial Dragon, with High Chancellor Ocato just behind on his right, carefully watching the proceedings. In the centre of the circle facing them knelt another soldier, his face lined with age and the stresses of duty, his dull chainmail largely covered by a burnt & battered grey tabard.

“I’m not much for speeches and ceremony, but our guest deserves a few words,” Mahmud began, his voice clear and confident. “When I closed the first Gate people began calling me the Hero of Kvatch, but I never thought I truly deserved that title. It was this man here who saw his captain fall to the Daedra before we even knew what we were dealing with and took command of the defence without a second thought, who brought the survivors to safety, who held the line for them and who led the charge to retake the city. Without him, his tenacity and steadfast dedication to duty, the Crisis may well have overcome us in its opening gambit. Therefore…”

He took a deep breath, held out a thin ceremonial sword before him, and continued.

“I, Mahmud Aka-Ra, Champion of Cyrodiil, do hereby declare Savlian Matius a Knight-Sergeant of the Order of the Tower,” he brought the sword down steadily to each of Matius’ shoulders, then continued, “henceforth may you be known as Sir Savlian Matius in all the realms of the Empire. May Talos bless you.”

The onlooking soldiers clashed their bracers to their cuirasses, and Savlian stood before they all filed out of the room through the great wooden door behind them.

The group then gathered on a lower floor, tables lining the walls with wines and fine foods laid out upon them, and servants stood by the doorway. Mahmud and Savlian entered last, and did their best to keep to themselves.

“This is quite a spread, esteemed Champion,” said Savlian with a smile, “you nobles of the capital have luxurious appetites.”

“I could say many things about the nobles of the capital, Sir Matius, but I cannot deny the skill of their kitchen staff. I’m not at all used to it, any one of these dishes would be a rare treat on the road, and many a hard battle would’ve gone to pay the cook.” He picked up a silver goblet and poured a small measure of wine into it, drank quickly and cleared his throat. “And I’ve still no taste for wine, I’d much prefer a good ale, though I doubt it’d taste right drunk from silver.”

“I know what you mean – I dined a couple of times with Count Goldwine when he threw banquets for visiting nobles, and I couldn’t fault the food but it’s not the stuff to sate a working appetite, it’s pleasant but it lacks substance.”

Before Mahmud could reply they were approached by an old soldier, gleaming white armour ornately decorated in gold with an opulent red cape fastened about his neck, who gave a small nod to Mahmud.

“Sir Matius, this is the honourable Sir Horatius Varo, Grand Marshall of the Imperial Legion, Knight-Commander of the Red Diamond.” He gestured to them both, and they shook hands.

“Congratulations on your honour, Sir Matius,” Horatius said, his voice deep but with the hoarseness of age, “it sounds like the Empire owes you a great debt.”

“Thank you, sir, you are very kind; I did my duty.”

“And you did it well. Your dedication would suit the Legion proper, and your new position far outstrips a city guard’s post; should you choose it an officer’s commission would certainly be available to you.”

“Thank you again, sir, I am truly grateful, but I did my duty for my city and its people, and I’ve no ambitions beyond them.”

“I understand,” Horatius nodded, “but the offer remains should you seek it; the Legionary offices will be open to you.”

He walked away, and Savlian turned back to Mahmud.

“Is that how it works in the upper echelons?” Savlian asked, keeping his voice low, “you earn an honour and they just offer you promotions?”

“It is indeed, it’s the same with the honours themselves. One noble earns a knighthood, promotes his friends, knights a few more, they do the same while they all rise through the ranks, and before long half the army’s taking orders from officers who’ve learnt war out of books more than battles.”

“Makes you wonder how the Empire’s survived this long,” Savlian replied, shaking his head.

“Well, most people like that are more interested in playing politics than playing soldier anyway, their armour’s little more than a costume; besides, from what I hear the worst of them are too incompetent to know when their unit’s disregarding their orders, and in a way I hope it’s true, for the soldiers’ sakes.”

Savlian sighed, and looked around the room, at all the polished platemail that had never faced a scratch, and the servants weaving between with bottles and silverware.

Mahmud and Savlian sat on a worn stone bench in the shade of one of Green Emperor Way’s great topiaries, its shadow stretched past them by the setting sun.

“It’s nice to breathe the fresh air again after all that,” said Savlian as he leaned back, looking up at the Tower.

“It’s nice to be able to say it aloud too,” Mahmud agreed, “all the bureaucrats, the knight-politicians who’ve barely felt the heat of battle, I’m constantly having to watch my tongue around here.”

“Oh, I’m not surprised, though I daresay some plain talk would do some of these men a lot of good.” Savlian turned to face him. “So, as we can talk more freely – how is it, being Champion?”

“Truth be told, I’m not fond of it. Like I said before I’m not one for ceremony, and a position like this is all ceremony, just ceremony and politics and petty squabbles between nobles who wear the accoutrements of warriors. This isn’t my place at all, I’m a soldier, and while the Gates may be closed they didn’t take all the Daedra with them, there’s still battles going on that I could do some real good to be fighting, yet here I am chained to the capital. I’ve brought all this up to Ocato, told him outright I should be doing my job, my real job, but all he talks about is what a symbol it would make to have the Champion still out there defending the Empire, but I’m a soldier, dammit, not a symbol, and I didn’t do any of this for the Empire, I’m not some sort of a loyalist, I did it for Tamriel and I did it for Martin and I did it because it’s my job...I’m sorry, I don’t mean to get heated, I’ve just...been in the city too long. I want to ride up to Hammerfell soon, see my family, and if they want to stop me they’ll have to send the Legion.”

“No no, by all means, I reckon if the Council heard you heated they’d think twice about making demands of you.”

“Oh, that thought crosses my mind every time I walk through those doors,” Mahmud smiled, then sat back and sighed. “So, how about you? I’ve heard nothing but rumours since we stormed the castle.”

“Well, after that I returned to the camp and told the survivors we’d retaken the city, and we all relocated to the chapel. Those who were able, and ready to see the remains of their homes up close, helped put the fires out and started clearing away some of the rubble, but it was difficult for everyone. Thankfully it didn’t take long for some help to arrive out of Anvil – the lighthouse-keepers noticed the smoke had stopped and a few people came wondering if that was a good or bad sign, and when we told them it was finally safe they organised a bit of a relief effort, brought some wood and stone and good hands to work it. We’ve kept working, things got harder as more Gates opened up and things started to stall but the city doesn’t look like a ruin anymore, and everyone’s breathing a little easier; hopefully the Empire will be able to help us directly now that the Crisis is over...maybe I can even make the requests myself, put my title to good use,” Savlian chuckled at that last remark. “Truthfully though, Mahmud, I’m tired. They all look to me as a leader, and I appreciate their trust, but I’m just an old watchman. I’m not a Count, or an administrator, I’m barely comfortable as captain of the guard, it’s always been my duty to walk the streets helping my people but rebuilding a city and keeping everyone hopeful is beyond me. I’d like to take some time away from the city, just rest on my own terms, but there’s always more work to be done and the people trust me to do it more than anyone.”

“I don’t envy you, my friend,” Mahmud replied, resting a hand on his shoulder, “you’ve had a great task and a burden placed upon you. If it’s any consolation you’ll at least have a place to retreat to now, you’re a Knight-Sergeant of the Tower and that comes with a bit of land, it’ll take some talking at the Legionary offices to claim it but after that you’ll always have a place away from it all, and of course you’re always welcome at Battlehorn. I wish I could provide you an administrator too, but, well, you know the sort I tend to meet. I can at least keep you abreast when the Council starts discussing the new Count, and I’ll do my best to represent yours and your people’s opinions, because Gods know they won’t ask for themselves.”

“Thank you, it’s truly much appreciated. When I get back I’ll have a discussion with one of the construction leaders, they’ve always been very diligent and might be willing to take on a bit more, at least temporarily,” Savlian said, and looked up to the last glow of sunlight dipping below the great stone walls. “It’s getting late, I should return to my lodgings, but there’s one more question I’d wanted to ask, if I may – why are you Mahmud Aka-Ra now? When we met you were Mahmud Al-Kozanset, that’s quite a change.”

“Ah! Well, I always used to call myself by the land I’m from, but when the Crisis ended I felt it a worthy victory deserving of a new title. ‘Ra’ is old Yoku, it means warrior, and befitting my new station – and in part to honour Martin, if I’m honest – I took the Cyrod ‘Aka’ to call myself Dragon Warrior, but there’s a little more to it than that: you see, it bears quite a similarity to the Yoku title Anka-Ra, which is what we call a warrior of a certain age, one who’s getting on in years and might be better suited to the academies than the frontline, and I’ve felt like an old hand at this job since forty.”

“It was a worthy victory indeed, I’m sure your ancestors are deeply proud, though I think there’d be plenty of younger warriors who’d still envy your prowess. But I’m afraid I’d best be off, if I’m to ride before noon,” Savlian said before getting to his feet, as Mahmud nodded and followed suit, shaking his hand strongly with both of his.

“Of course. Farewell and swift travels friend, hopefully our paths will cross again sooner.”

[artxyra]

What if Damian and the miraculous class are friends and they have movie nights, but since Damian is in Gotham he sneaks out of the manor and portal via Max & Kalki to participate. The Fam get suspicious and try to figure out where Damian is going every week. When they find out he goes to Paris they try to follow him but the portal closes and they use the tubes instead. They end up crashing in on them watching a horror movie which freaks the class out. Insert yelling and things being thrown.

To: Demon From: Angel

Are we still on for movie night?

To: Angel From: Demon

Yes. Just need to get away from the family.

To: Demon From: Angel

😀

Marinette looks over smiling from her phone. Today is a good day. There were no akuma that needed Ladybug’s attention, nor had she broken up a fight between Max and Kim about the latest game. So yes, she was ecstatic to know this is how her day is going.

“Hey Mars, is Damian coming tonight?” Adrien asks seating next to her playing with a strand of his hair. Ever since he came out to her, their relationship has blossomed beyond a crush to a blooming brother-sister relationship. That and Luka were more than willing to take on the blonde without a second thought. She kind of feels bad for Juleka having to see Adrien on a near-daily basis and with her brother no doubt.

“Yup,” Marinette continues to smile, “I just received word that he’s good to go. All we need is for Kaalki and Max to open up a portal at the designated time.”

“Sweet, I hear that Kim was the one picking out this week’s movie. I hope it’s nothing horror-related.” Adrien pouts causing Marinette to laugh that the poor kitty’s face.

“I’m sure it’s nothing too crazy.” Marinette hopes that it was something simple to follow and an action pack rather than horror. She may love horror games but kwami be damn if she watches a horror movie in the dark that wasn’t comedic.

“It looks like break is almost over, we’ll continue you this later.” Adrien sends Marinette a comforting smile before jumping down into his assigned seat next to Nino. Alya and Nino just walked in holding hands.

“Hey, lovebirds, who’s ready for a night full of fun?” Alya greets the two causing them to roll their eyes at the nickname that no longer pertains to them.

“Hey Als, I should be asking you that instead.” Marinette lifts an eyebrow that accompanies her smirk. Nino and Alya’s faces turn red and they side glance each other. Marinette and Adrien laugh at the couple.

“After class, I’ll be giving a quick speech regarding tonight’s plans,” Marinette states pulling out her classwork and books for class. They all nod in understanding. Just then the rest of the class filed in with matching smiles and asking pertaining to tonight’s activities.

To: Angel From: Demon

Save me from the idiots that I call my brothers?

To: Demon From: Angel

Can’t love, I’m sure it not that bad.

To: Angel From: Demon

For some idiotic reason, they are watching me like a hawk today. I’m currently in the bathroom with the doors locked listening to them bicker outside.

To: Demon From: Angel

Yikes 😬. I’m sure it will die down before you’re required to leave.

To: Angel From: Demon

I doubt that.

To: Demon From: Angel

About that, why did we move our weekly movie night from Saturday to Friday?

To: Angel From: Demon

It’s a half-day at school.

Shit. Talk to you later.

Marinette places her phone down and slowly turns her attention to Mme. Bustier. The red-haired teacher tried to keep her students engaged with the content, but she was losing them faster than on average. Marinette turns to her classmates. Alix and Kim were trying to out strength each other, Juleka and Rose was trying to pay attention but the drooping in Rose’s eyes say otherwise, Sabrina and Chloe—well doing what they usually do—living in their own bubble, Nathaniel was sketching something down in his notebook while Max was pretending to take notes as Markov does it for him. Finally, Mylene and Ivan were also in their own world.

Hours seemed to past in Marinette’s mind before Mme. Bustier concluded today’s lesson. She was so caught up in watching the time that she didn’t realize that was sketching an outfit in her own notebook. Whoops.

“Marinette is there something you would like to add?” Mme. Bustier prompts sending the class’s designated designer a smile.

“Yes,” Marinette gets up from her seat and walks down to the podium. “Tonight is our weekly movie night instead of tomorrow. Do you remember what to bring? If not, please message me before the event. Remember that we are having this event at Chloe’s family’s hotel as it a makeshift theatre room.”

“Daddy says we can have the popcorn maker also.” Chloe interrupts. The class cheers at the thought of the infamous popcorn maker that was usually locked behind the hotel kitchen doors.

“Thank you, Bee, for that tidbit. Now, Max, you are to arrive at the bakery no later than six o’clock. The demon is having a half-day today and I’m ninety-nine percent sure that he’ll want to be here no later than that. Everyone else, you are free to do.” With that and a pretend gavel, Marinette dismisses the class to their next class for the day. 

For Damian, being at school felt like a blessing even if it was a half-day. His brothers have been hounding him all morning. It’s like they are looking for something that isn’t there. Damian’s emotions? Yeah right, they all know he only shows emotions to his beloved animals or animals in general. Damian had to double, triple check the security on his phones because who knows what Drake would find if he had access inside it.

For over six months, he had been going to Paris for movie nights with his beloved and her classmates. At first, he had done it through the zeta tubes but after gaining their trust just enough to be in on the Miraculous Team of Paris, his trips became a lot more frequent. He would make up an excuse about going to a classmate, or Jon’s, house for the night, or to work on a school project. He had gotten away with it for a while, but Tim was the first to notice the lie.

Tim and Conner were having their usually meet up when the Damian had told his family that he was spending time at Jon’s, something that was no unusual. All was fine and dandy until Jon came home with a Damian Wayne. Tim, well it was mainly Dick, had grilled into the young hero about Damian’s whereabouts. Jon either lied or literally had no idea. Which prompted the Batbros to start the search on Damian's weekly disappearance.

Everyone took the day off to “spend time” with Damian. They wanted to trap the teen inside the manor and watch his every movement. Like that isn’t an invasion of privacy or trust.

Alfred brought Damian to the manor around noon. This gives them enough time to hide any open-source of weaponry they could find or items that Damian could use against them in battle. That was a lot of items on the list. Dick inquired for Bruce to hold off on the tracking device as a last resort. He wanted to start everything out with a discussion, but Jason laughs that idea out the window as he cleans his guns.

“The young master is residing in his bedroom,” Alfred speaks walking down into the Batcave.

The Wayne family knew this was it.

To: Angel From: Demon

I’m ready.

To: Demon From: Angel

ETA in 5

Damian smirks at his phone. He loves his girlfriend and how quickly she can manage an entire group of classmates and plan a weekly movie night event.

He had packed his belonging that he usually brings with him when he does to Paris. Which isn’t much.

Four minutes.

Damian thought his ears were playing tricks on him, but they weren’t. He could hear the stampede of footsteps that were no doubt from his family members aside from Alfred. Alfred’s footsteps are like a ghost, you never hear them.

Three minutes.

“Hey little D, since you had a half-day today, why don’t you spend it with us,” Grayson asks the second his bedroom door swings open. Alfred the cat sends a glare to his owner’s family.

“Yeah, Demon spawn, we all took the day off to spend time with you,” Jason adds gas to the fire that was already burning intensely.

“Damian…” Not his father too.

Two minutes.

Damian doesn’t say a word. His eyes bounce from one person to the next and repeat. He didn’t know who to answer them. “Tt.” Was the only word? Sound? That had escaped his lips.

“You need to leave like now.” Damian refuses to have his family find out the very secret he had kept hidden for so long. His quick need for them leaving only pushes them to stay. Worried about various reasons from teen problems to joining the League of Assassins again. They didn’t want to take any chances.

One minute.

Damian could sense the user of the horse kwami becoming active. Soon a blue swirling portal opens up behind Damian. Damian looks at his family and side glances at the portal. The portal wins. The family of vigilantes runs to the portal only for it to close.

“Am I hallucinating or did that just happen?” Tim asks wiping the sleep away from his eyes.

“No, replacement, that really just happened.” Jason states. Tim nods in understanding.

“I’ll do track him down.” Dick sulks at the thought that Bruce was right.

It didn’t take long for the results to come in.

“Uh…so how the hell is the Demon in Paris, France of all places?” Jason shouts from behind his older brother and Bruce.

“The swirling portal thingy?” Tim states the obvious, but it sounded more like a question as he sits down and drinks a cup of coffee.

“Boys we’re going to Paris.”  Bruce states over his sons. From afar, Alfred sighs and goes to prepare the zeta tubes with the destination in mind.

“Uh, civvies or uniform?” Dick asks as they all start to make their way to the zeta tube. This was one of those questions that they linger on for a hot minute.

Before they knew it, Damian had gained an hour over his family.

“It doesn’t matter, we need to know where the little demon has been hiding all this time.” Jason screeches talking over to the zeta tube and teleporting to the location.

Bruce turns to the remainder of his sons who shrugged and follow suit.

Entering Paris, they were further from Damian’s location than anticipated. They follow the tracker with some interruptions. Dick wanted to buy something for Kori, Jason wanted food and Tim needed for coffee. After all that was done, they officially made it to the supposed location of Damian’s whereabouts.

“Why would the little demon at a hotel?”

“Hum, this coffee is really good,” Tim says before taking another sip.

“Boys, focus on the mission.”

“I am focus, Bruce.”

“I didn’t say you were, Dick.”

“Touché.” Dick rubs the back of his arm.  

They enter Le Grand Paris with tensions high and were surprised by how calm and relax the employees were. Jason swears this was just a hoax and they were torturing Damian behind one of these doors. An employee asks them if they are in need of anything. Bruce states that they were looking for his son.

“Is he friends with Chloe and her classmates?” The employee asks.

“Who?” Dick and Bruce ask simultaneously. Jason had dragged Tim off somewhere to look at some things.

The employee eyes the family skeptically.

“Well if he’s not friends with Mlle. Bourgeois, then I suggest heading to the police department and report a missing child.” The employee states before walking away. Bruce sighs and pulls out the tracking device. Damian is so close to them.

“We’re going to find him, right?”

“And drag the brat back to Gotham?”

Bruce in the direction that would be location, he gestures for his children to follow.

Damian was having a blast. In his arms, Marinette sat on his arm clinging to his shirt cursing Kim’s name throughout the film. Kim had chosen a horror movie for tonight’s showing and by kwami it was fantastic. There was no comedic relief, actual horror storytelling leaving the class on the edge of their seats.

Adrien was curled next to Marinette in Luka’s arms. He was also clinging to a body, a certain musician as if he was a frightened kitten.

Just as the MC was about to open the door to the attic, a series of figures jump from the ceiling. Screams in real-life match those within the movie. Popcorn, empty cartons of candy, soda drinks are thrown at the figures. A string of curses follows not long after that.

“Damian, tell your friends to stop.” He knows that voice from anywhere, it was Grayson’s voice. Marinette slides herself off himself.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He screeches in English. Most of the class didn’t have a clue what was being said.

“We wanted to see where you were?”

“We thought you were kidnapped?”

“I just came for the scenery.”

Damian’s eyes twitch.

“That’s nice and all, but can you move? We’re trying to watch a movie here and you’re ruining it.” Chloe stands up demanding the bat-family to move. They all look to one another before subtly moving away from the screen.

Damian places a quick kiss on Marinette’s cheek and guides his family out of the room. He was not happy that they came in ruining his night with Marinette. Now he has to make up for it with something romantic, not that he’ll do it anyway.

“What made you believe that I was kidnapped?” He asks, the second they were out of the room.

“The portal thingy.”

“You not answering any of our questions.”

Damian breathes through his nose. “You’re all idiots.”

“Well movie night is a bust, but we all agree to stay here to continue rather than going home.” Marinette walks into the hall after a moment of them talking—well it was more of a screaming match between Bruce and Damian with some input from Dick. “Will your family be fine without you for a couple more hours?”

“Habibti, these dunces are my family,” Damian states gesturing to his family,

Marinette nods, “Well then, hello, and can we keep Damian for the night?”

Damian walks over to Marinette and wraps his arms around her. “I’ll return from before it’s nightfall in Gotham, father.”

“Uh, sure. Boys lets go.” Bruce accepts the came and walks down the hall. Before either of the brothers could pester Damian about this newfound relationship, Bruce gave them all the bat-glare and demanded that they follow.

“You know you’re going to get pestered, right.” Marinette laughs.

“Don’t remind me.”

“Come on, we have a movie to finish.”

With that, Damian takes Marinette’s hand and walks back into the room.  

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[spookyceph]

Pull Test

Summary: Shigaraki and Kurogiri meet with the League of Villain's newest candidate.

Rating: Gen Fic, SFW

Relationships: Shigaraki & Magne

Characters: Shigaraki Tomura, Magne, Kurogiri, Giran, mentioned Dabi, mentioned Toga Himiko

Words: 2,732

Warnings: Implied/Referenced transphobia and deadnaming when Magne's background is mentioned, swearing

The manila folder dropped from the air like a dead bird, hitting the bar top with a slap. Tomura jerked back, stool wobbling beneath him, and grit his teeth as he heard the staccato sounds of his fighter taking damage in his game. Recovering balance, he hit the pause button before glaring at the warp gate that swirled into being across the way.

“Another one already?” he snapped the moment the tall figure of his caretaker stepped out of the darkness.

Kurogiri straightened both his tie and metal gorget. “I was quite impressed myself. Giran is proving to be as professional and efficient as advertised.” He motioned to the folder he’d air dropped in. “Shall we consider this new candidate together, Shigaraki Tomura?”

Tomura wasn’t in the mood to consider shit. He hadn’t been hanging around the bar for going on two hours hoping for work to come along. One of his hands strayed to his pocket. He touched the lump that was the jar of salve he’d taken to carrying at all times. The serpentine ridge of a friendship bracelet (I used red, white, and black string so it would match you, Tomura-kun!) had joined it a week ago. Of course, he’d die before admitting to lurking just to catch a glimpse of Dabi. Or that he’d agreed to let Toga show him her favorite otome games as soon as she came back from her shopping trip. He definitelycouldn’t tell the smug old ink splatter to fuck off and let him get back to his goal of a high score—not without having how wrong he’d been about those same two people rubbed in his face.

That left being a responsible leader as the only option.

Tomura growled and set his game aside. He flicked the folder open. “Fine. What’s this new asshole’s name?” Giving in didn’t require him to be gracious about it.

“Ah. About that. I believe there’s a conflicting issue in her files about that point. Her family name is Hikiishi, however, her given one, or both, may require an update.”

A look at the top of the file filled in the blanks. The picture Giran had included showed the candidate flashing a bold smile at the camera. Shoulder-length auburn hair framed prominent cheekbones. Slightly darker fuzz lined her jaw and chin. Tomura couldn’t tell what color her eyes were behind her sunglasses, but they locked with his through lenses and stock paper alike. Hikiishi Kenji, read the first line of information on the page beneath the photo. A police report, by the looks of it.

“I see. Well, for now let’s just call Hikiishi by her alias until she confirms with us.” Tomura skimmed through the info again. “Magne, right? Related to her quirk, I assume.”

The currents of Kurogiri’s mist slowed and relaxed into looser coils. “Correct.”

Tomura frowned. “What? Did you think I’d have some sort of problem with the name thing?”

“After the misunderstanding with Dabi—”

“Dabi and I talked.”

The yellow eyes glowing within the darkness widened. “Did you now?”

Fuck, he wasn’t turning red, was he? Was he? “We’re adults. We worked shit out, okay? Not everybody has a stick up their ass about being polite all the time.” He scooped up his game, more than ready to retreat into something he could control. “When are we expecting Magne?”

“Giran can bring her by tomorrow evening.”

“Fine. Let’s get the stupid meet and greet crap over with.” When only silence followed, Tomura raised his gaze from the screen to glare at Kurogiri. “What?”

The wisps curling from the smoggy bastard’s head looked suspiciously like smiles. “Nothing, Shigaraki Tomura. Nothing at all.”

-

Taptaptap.

Tomura’s finger rose and fell on the bartop fast enough to give a sewing machine needle a run for its money. The ball of his right foot bounced on the stool’s crossbar in time with it.

Taptaptap.

Giran had promised he’d be there between 9:00 and 10:00. The clock by the door pointed to 9:51.

Taptaptap.

Lots of people would be riding the trains on a Friday night. Or roaming the streets, looking for food and alcohol, karaoke, strangers to stave off loneliness. Heroes would be out in force as a result, watching for any predators stalking the herds of humanity. Tomura didn’t know how to calculate exact probability rates for shit hitting the fan, but he got the sense they were on the higher end under such conditions.

Taptaptap.

Why couldn’t he just run into party members along the way as needed, like in games? Each one would specialize in a skill, forming a well-rounded team. Everyone would follow him to the bitter end because they believed in him and not some ass goblin named Stain. Why they believed in Tomura wouldn’t matter, though money would be a reasonable guess. Idealism didn’t pay much from what he could tell.

Taptap—

“Be calm, Shigaraki Tomura. This meeting will go well.”

He bared teeth at Kurogiri. “There has to be a meeting for it to go a certain way. And I am calm, damn it.”

“So I see.” He finished wiping down the glass he held before setting it on the bar and grabbing another. “My apologies.”

Tomura twisted on the stool to give the smart ass shadow a piece of his overthinking mind.

Knock, knock, knock.

Without missing a beat, Kurogiri stuck his free hand through a small warp gate and turned the handle of the door across the room. He went back to polishing as two figures entered the bar.

For someone who charged such high fees, Giran went out of his way to look cheap and kitschy. Little round tinted lenses pinched to the bridge of his nose. A scrunched scarf like someone’s guts slung around his neck. One front tooth missing in his low-key sleazy smile. The woman following right behind him and surveying her new surroundings made for a more welcome sight. Sunglasses (her and Giran both, for fucks’ sake) hid her eyes just like in her picture, but her lips held a hint of a smile.

The essence of good manners, Kurogiri bowed to their guests. “Good evening. Welcome to our humble home.”

Tomura, to balance the scales, snorted and folded his arms across his chest. “Took you long enough.”

Giran shrugged and twirled his hand, leaving behind a smoke spiral from the tip of the cigarette between his fingers. “Our train was delayed by some prankster threatening to blow up the tracks.”

“Doesn’t sound like a prank.”

“It wouldn’t have been if the lazy bastard hadn’t been trying to pass off children’s clay as plastic explosive. One of the cops noticed the stuff was bright yellow and they rushed him. They didn’t even call in a hero.” The broker shook his head. “What’s this world coming to? People can’t be bothered to find and pay for real weapons anymore. It offends my pride as a businessman.”

Behind Father, Tomura grimaced. His short-lived venture with Stain had indeed moved people to lash out at society. The problem was most of them were fucking morons. He doubted any decent candidates the League managed to net would make up for all the secondhand embarrassment he’d suffered in the past couple of weeks from watching the news.

“Oh, I don’t know,” the woman said, tapping her chin. “I felt kinda bad for the poor guy. He looked like your average office wage-slave. I thought he was going to break down in tears when they hauled him off.”

“Serves him right for cutting corners. No conviction, no integrity these days I tell you.”

She hid a grin behind her hand. “You’re heartless, Giran.”

The broker snorted smoke from his nostrils like an exasperated dragon. “I’m practical.”

“And yet you still haven’t introduced me.”

Posture straightening, Giran tugged at his weirdly anatomical scarf. “Sorry, got sidetracked. Magne, Shigaraki Tomura and Kurogiri of the League of Villains.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Slipping off his stool, Tomura gave her a short bow. The way Kurogiri swayed slightly, as if he’d swoon from shock, made the display worth it.

“I take it I’ve earned my fee?” chimed in Giran.

Kurogiri’s misty form shuddered as he roused himself. “Of course. We’ll hear from you again soon?”

“I’ve got a few candidates lined up.” The broker sketched them a mock salute before turning and closing the door behind him.

“Please, have a seat.” Tomura motioned to the row of barstools beside him.

“Thank you. Don’t mind if I do.”

While Magne approached, he studied her movements. She strode across the hardwood floor, work boots making minimal noise with each step. Grace as well as power. She knew how to use the muscle under her shirt’s rolled up sleeves rather than relying on pure size. Although, that didn’t hurt either—Tomura put her at over ten centimeters his own height at least, and she definitely outclassed him by weight. He wondered whether she had speed to go along with strength. She slid into the next seat over and rested her chin in her hands.

“Would you care for something to drink, Miss Magne?” Kurogiri asked, jumping at the chance to play host.

“Oh, my. So formal. Sure, I’ll have whatever you recommend.”

Tomura waited until a small glass of something amber-colored had been set in front of them both (ginger ale for him) and she’d taken an approving sip before getting things rolling.

“You have quite a record, Magne.” Though he’d already memorized the relevant bits, he flipped open the folder container her information.

She glanced over, shades slipping down her nose as she scanned the first page of the police report. “Twenty-nine attempted murders, huh? Is that what they’re calling those? I’m surprised you guys bothered having me come in after reading that garbage.”

“Why?”

Like a small bird, Tomura’s stomach dipped and fluttered when Magne looked at him over the edge of her glasses. Not quite in the same way it did when he caught Dabi watching him from across the room, but close enough to classify the sensation as pleasant. Her irises shone like polished agates, made up of rich layers of browns from a starburst of mahogany around her pupils to flecks of burnished copper. Tomura suddenly understood her hiding them behind lenses. Such a beautiful detail would stick in anyone’s memory.

“Somebody who tried and failed to kill that many people would look pretty incompetent, right?” she replied. “Or like they chickened out at the last second. I don’t enjoy killing. I’ll tell you that up front. But…I didn’t hesitate with the three I did put down, let’s just say that.”

Tomura, a multiple murderer himself, examined the square set of her shoulders, the twist of scorn to her mouth towards her accusers, and found no reason to doubt her. He nodded.

“The so-called attempts were from the robberies you pulled off then?”

“Mostly, though I’m sure a few of the bullies I smacked around exaggerated just to prove what big, strong men they are.” She harumphed and took another sip from her drink.

“And the actual murders?”

Her lips puckered, as if she tasted something more bitter than whatever alcohol Kurogiri had given her. “Personal matters.”

“I see.” Tomura turned the page and ran his finger further down the information. “Your quirk has some unique parameters.”

The lines of Magne’s face eased into a smile. “Oh, the gender thing? A theory really. I haven’t had much opportunity to test it seriously. It might be nothing but my own perception…but I guess that doesn’t make it any less real, does it?” She lifted a hand from her glass and reached halfway toward him. “Care for a demonstration?”

Tomura caught himself drawing away from her, his nails latching onto the sides of his neck. Cowering—great way to display his leadership skills. “What’re you going to do?”

“Oh, just tug on your arm a little. Go ahead and put it down by your side for me.”

Resisting the urge to look to Kurogiri for reassurance, he did as asked. For safety’s sake he curled his fingers into a fist.

Magne smiled. “Ready?”

According to the knot in his stomach, no, but he nodded anyway. His arm jerked and leapt up as if it were tied by a string. Tomura gasped, almost slipping off his seat. Magne caught and steadied him.

“Sorry, honey! Got so excited to show off I put a bit too much oomph into it.” She patted his shoulder as if there weren’t dead, gray hands clutching it.

“’S’alright,” he mumbled. And it was—his skin showed no marks, his muscles and joints registered no pain. He readjusted the delicate hand decorating his wrist. Cold, waxy, and pliant. Nothing like Magne.

“So, can you manipulate people’s movements? Turn them into your puppets?”

She hummed and pushed her sunglasses back into their proper place. “Not really. I can move someone with the proper amount of push versus pull, but it’s such delicate work that they could break free pretty easily. Hold out your arm and I’ll show you what I mean.”

Still making a fist, Tomura followed her suggestion. Magne positioned her hands on either side of his forearm, spread about half a meter apart. Concentration dug a V between her brows. A thrum jolted through Tomura’s bones. He startled at the rush of tingles in his elbow and shoulder but kept his balance. Something like a low electrical current pulsed along his arm, raising its pale little hairs. Eyes wide, he watched as the limb drifted from one side to the other, then up, down—anywhere the poles of Magne’s palms guided it. He could even see, feel his skin being tugged and pressed by her quirk. Taking a deep breath, Tomura drew his fist back. He met some resistance, but didn’t have to put up any real struggle.

“Weird.” He shook his buzzing fingers out. “But kinda nice. Tingly. Like an electrical field.”

Magne tilted her head and smirked. “Oh? That’s a new one. Then again, maybe I’d have heard it before if I used my quirk for something besides bashing jerks.”

What would he have done without Father hiding the fact he blushed at the slightest fucking thing? He’d never get used to talking to people at this rate.

“Your skills would be a great asset to the League, Miss Magne,” Kurogiri said, saving Tomura from having to pretend he could be witty. “I presume Giran discussed the expenses we cover? Upon joining, you would also be welcome to claim a room upstairs, should you wish.”

Magne went still. Even her breathing stopped for a moment. “You’d let me stay here?”

Tomura knew right then he’d never live down being wrong about not letting League members move into the hideout. Kurogiri would never be crass enough to say it out loud, of course. He didn’t have to. Tomura sighed, accepting his fate.

“Two members live here already, including another woman. We can introduce you to them both before you decide.”

Gaze aimed at the ceiling, Magne touched fingers to her pursed lips. “I’ve already made up my mind.” She met Tomura’s eyes, a smile lighting up her face. “Sign me up.”

Well. He had no clue whatso-fucking-ever how they’d convinced her, but results were results. Besides, she hadn’t mentioned Stain once. She deserved free room and board for that alone.

“Ah, wonderful. We’re so delighted to have you, Miss Magne.” Kurogiri steepled his fingers. “Please let me know if you require any assistance in moving your belongings. I can warp them to whichever room you choose.”

A soft laugh huffed out of her. “No need, honey. I travel light these days. Would tomorrow evening be too soon?”

Tomura shrugged. “That’s fine. I’ll make sure Toga and Dabi are around so you can meet them.” Even if he had to staple the latter to a chair to make him comply.

“Sounds like a plan.” Magne raised her glass. “To new friends then?”

There was that word again. Offered with the same ease Toga had shown. And Dabi…he’d never said it maybe but his gift had implied…well, something. Tomura touched his pocket. The weight and shapes of the items inside it. With the same hand, he picked up his own glass and clinked it against Magne’s.

“Sure. I’ll drink to that.”

[sunstar-of-the-north]

Marshmallows and Cotton Candy Ch. 1

I had this sitting in my laptop for awhile now, so I decided to polish and finish it! I hope you guys enjoy it!

Sucette (c) Me LoZ (c) Adam Balsam/Randi Barnes

Powder sugar was lightly falling from the sky, cascading the town of Petits Fours in brilliant white. A lollipop woman was watching the weather, entranced by the powder. A few moments later the train sounded off, making her jump. She then scurried to the garrison stationed at the left side of town.

She entered the main office, greeted by loud typing and exchanges between the office workers. The woman stood awkwardly by the door, tugging on the ends of the handkerchief over her head. A Hershey woman passed by her but suddenly stopped when they made eye contact. “Oh! You must be the new girl!” The lollipop blinked in surprise but then nodded. “Y-Yes! I’m Sucette. I applied for-“

“This way,” the other candy person said as she sped walking away. Sucette practically had to sprint to keep up with her. “My name Elaina by the by,” said the guide. She tried to respond but she was too busy trying to keep up with her. A few moments later the Hershey stopped in front of a large door. The sucker almost collided with her but halted just in time. She grinned at Sucette while motioning toward the office. “This is where General Candy Apple conducts his business.” She opened the door for both of them to enter. “And here’s where you’ll be,” she said as she walked toward a desk in the far corner. There was a small type writer and a stack of papers on the dark counter. “The General will have you look over his paper work and file them according to their importance. You will have to write responses to some of his letters throughout the day. You will also be setting up meetings for him. We have a lunch break at noon and another break at three. Any questions?” Sucette blinked rapidly, shaking her head no even though she felt slightly dazed.

Elaina gave a big grin and patted her shoulder. “Great! If you need any help, just come find me. Ok?” Before the lollipop could utter a word, her guide left the room. After a moment of silence, she sat in the cushioned seat. Sucette started to look around the room, hoping to calm her racking nerves.

It was very spacious, despite the large desk on the other side of the room. There were twin bay windows overlooking the powder sugared hills of Candy County. The woman took a deep breath and proceeded to smooth out her pastel cotton candy skirt. “Just remain calm. You want to make a good first impression.” Sucette tried her best to quell her anxiety, but she couldn’t help but think of all the horrible scenarios that could get her fired.

Suddenly the office door swung open, causing the lollipop to shriek. The apple man that opened the door seemed equally as startled by her presence. She blushed a crimson red, too embarrassed to speak. The man cleared his throat as he composed himself. “I’m sorry my dear! I didn’t realize that there was someone here.” He then walked toward her, boots thudding against the hard floor. “You must be the new secretary!” Sucette nodded, still tongue tied. The man gave her a kind smile, offering her a hand. “I am General Candy Apple. What is your name?” She took his gloved hand, shaking it gently. “S-Sucette,” she uttered softly.

“Sucette. What a lovely name!” She thanked him shyly. Candy Apple then clapped his hands in a business-like manner. “So did Eliana tell you how to organize the paperwork?” She blinked at him, then at the papers. “I—no.” The General looked a little surprised but stroked his long, white beard. “Things have been pretty hectic as of late…How about I show you, eh?” Sucette gave him a grateful smile. “That would be nice.”

The two then spent the last half hour discussing how to file paperwork, where to file it, and all the things in between. “And finally, the papers I need to sign will go in the red and green folder.” Sucette nodded, noting the last observation. The General then went to his desk. “Good! I hope everything I said was helpful. Sometimes my reasoning doesn’t make sense to others.”

“N-No sir! I mean—yes sir! Uh—what I mean is I get what you said.” Sucette scolded herself. “Stupid! You sound like a dolt!” The old apple chuckled. “No need to be so nervous Miss Sucette! We may seem hard as ginger bread here at the garrison, but we’re as soft as marshmallows!” She wished that his words comforted her, but she still felt as if gummy worms were wriggling in her stomach. The general bit the inside of his cheek for a moment. “Ah! How about you get me a cup of coffee? Pure black please.” It took Sucette a moment to process his request, but then swiftly nodded. “Yes sir!” She was about to leave the room when Candy Apple stopped her.

“And how about you get yourself some tea Miss Sucette? That should help to ease your nerves,” he suggested, eyes twinkling. She grinned in thanks, and then left the room.

It was somewhat difficult to find the break room, but the sucker woman did eventually did after asking for directions. It was a modest sized room, fitting two tables and plenty of chairs. There were multiple coffee makers and cups on the counter spaces. “They must really like their coffee,” Sucette observed. Thankfully she found a pot that was already made. Unfortunately there was no tea prepared. “I should make that first. No point in letting the General’s coffee go cold.”

While she was waiting for the water to boil, Sucette took a moment to breathe. Candy Apple’s words continued to echo in her mind. She let out a tired sigh, rubbing her eyes. “Just breathe Sucette…no need to be so intense.” No matter what she told herself, it didn’t help. The lollipop person needed this job. She had to keep this job.

A high pitched squeal jolted her out of her thoughts. The woman quickly took the pot off of the burner, pouring the water into a cup. She then eyed the clock. Alarm hit her when she realized just how long it took to make the tea. Sucette quickly grabbed the tea bag she wanted and the cups, dashing out of the door.

THUNK

Sucette stopped in her tracks, stomach filling with deep dread. She looked behind the door and nearly dropped the cups. Sitting on the hard floor was a uniformed and slightly dazed marshmallow man. His tall hat was skewed, covering one of his eyes. Sucette felt her spirit slowly leaving her body when she realized who it was. They made eye contact, blueish green looking up at pastel pink.

“Marshal! Marshal are you ok?”

Their trance was broken when a taffy man came rushing to the marshal’s aid. “What happened,” the taffy questioned. Before any of them could speak, he brought his seething gaze to Sucette. “Did you hit him,” he barked. The woman couldn’t speak. She was too petrified with fear, shaking so much that tea and coffee were spilling down her hands. “Do you have any idea who this is?!” He was yelling loud enough for people to take notice, curiously looking over their type writers at the scene. Sucette was fighting back tears, feeling as if their eyes stabbed through her very soul. “THIS is Marshal Mallow, Hero and Protector of Oz! How DARE you show such disresp-“

“Private, that is enough.”

The marshal was now standing up, fixing his hat. He gave the other soldier a stern, yet gentle look. “It was an accident, Private Key Lime.” Mallow then turned to Sucette. He flashed her a soft grin. “My apologies, dear lady. The Private can be a little too enthusiastic.”

“But sir-“ A swift glare from the taller man silenced him. The officer then turned back to Sucette. “I hope you’re al-“ She turned on her heel and sped walked away before he could finish. She had to use the very last of her nerve to not break down and cry. The sucker ignored everyone’s concerned expressions as she went back to Candy Apple’s office. Thankfully the General wasn’t there. She set down the cups on his desk, breath raspy and head pounding. She slid down to the floor, holding herself.  “I can’t believe this! I-I just hurt one of the most important people in Oz!” Sucette began to quietly sob, body trembling.

“I-I’m going to be fired!”

[lunarianillusion]

A change in fate

A Maribat fanfic

prologue

Marinette had made a grave mistake that would put the fate of Paris in peril. After a stressful battle, with a murderous akuma along with a sentimonster that could shroud the battlefield with a thick mist and Mayura, she had renounced her miraculous. Her civilian life had been getting more and more miserable thanks to Lie-la and even though she had a small but loyal group of friends it was to much. The omega could not take all the responsibility and Tikki insistence to keep moving forward and to keep doing her best was exhausting to say the least. So, she renounced the little god for a moment of pure silence, but that moment had allowed her to get akumatized.

“Oh, Tikki. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” the girl whispered to herself. A lone tear ran down her cheek, her face blank from any emotion.

______________________________________________________________________

In the aftermath of the battle Marinette had found that a new ladybug had risen. This one seemed to be flaunting her ‘excellence’ and was slandering the previous ladybug with viperous intend.

The noir omega had gone to her master to find out what the plan of action to reclaim the miraculous was going to be. But when she arrived, she was scorned for her negligence in losing the ladybug miraculous.

“You should have been more careful Mrs. Dupain-Cheng. I intrusted you with one of the greatest powers within our universe and you take such lenience with it. This is not a game. Now we do not know who the ladybug wielder is and that could jeopardise the fate of Paris if not the universe,” The old beta berated.

Marinette felt her inner fire begin to boil over once more, but instead of a cold despair like a hours prior, it was a raging inferno. He thought this was a game to her, has he not been paying attention to how Chat Noir was acting at all! And Intrusted! He forced the role of ladybug onto her. With no warning, no prior preparation and the way he chose made her question if he should even have hold over the remaining miraculous. So, she snapped.

“Intrusted?!” The omega shrieked, baring her fangs. “You practically forced the role onto me! With your misguided way of choosing exam and then gave me no training, no guidance and just watched as I tripped every step of the way! You speak of me being lenient, have you even been paying to Chat Noirs behaviour?!”

Fu opened his mouth to interjected, but Marinette did not give him a chance. He would hear what she had to say.

“Do not even try making any excuses for him and do not give that crap about the ladybug and black cat being meant to be together. You know that all the flirting is uncalled for and distracting. How many innocent people have been hurt or worse, because he could not stop harassing me. Let’s also not forget all the times in battle he got mind controlled or straight up killed! He is a thorn in once side, that only adds to my stress. Stress from being ladybug, stress from trying to find Hawkmoth and my civilian life with all of its own responsibilities. I try to be ‘perfect’, but I am only human, and we are not supposed to, as a species, bottle up all of our emotions. So, I am ‘sorry’ if I cracked under all the pressure, but I am not an emotionless doll that you can make do as you will, and I will just go along with it!” Marinette roared.

The omega took several deep breathes. Having finally let out all of her despair, pain and rage. So, now she tried to calm herself and get her flaring spiced up scent, that reflected her raging emotions, under control. She was truly grateful far Wayzz. If not for the small turtle protection around the shop, she would likely have been akumatized again.

“Very well,” the ancient beta sheathed, eyes glaring cold daggers into the omega before him. “Then you shall no longer carry the title of ladybug. I will release you from that burden. You shall never get a miraculous from me again. Cleary you are to unstable now to carry such a great honour. Given with what cast you have matured into.”

Oh, he did not just go there.

“We shall see how the new ladybug does. She might do far better with Chat Noir than you ever did.”

Marinette highly doubted that. She had seen the recording of the fight. Chat noir had been killed halfway through the battle and had been arguing with the new ladybug non-stop before that. Tripping each other up on purpose. The unknown ladybug had only been able to win by the skin of her teeth.

“Now leave my shop and do not come back. You are no longer welcome here.” Fu ended his speech by turning his nose to the girl and staring her down.

The silence in the room was deafening.

After a long moment of getting her emotions under control did Marinette straighten up. Her face a blank emotionless mask, a reflection of her spend emotions, and left the massage parlour. Leaving an enraged old beta and horrified kwami, who truly wished this was all just a big nightmare, behind.

The young omega then aimlessly walked and walked, hoping that buzzing in her head would just stop. He feet brought her to the place where it all began. The battlefield where she fought her last battle as ladybug.

She stood there for maybe an hour. Just standing there, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and regrets. Before deciding it was time to go home, if she could even call it her home. Her parents no longer trusted her, thanks to Lie-la. They did not abuse her with any violence but did make her work long hours in the bakery when they wanted to go out. Which they had been doing more and more as of late. Other wise they just ignored her. This made her wonder if they ever truly cared for her.

Marinette sighed and was about to turn around. When something caught her eye.

It shined blue and seemed to call to her.

_____________________________________________________________________

Timothy Jackson Drake truly did not wish to leave Gotham, but he could not take anymore of his old pack. Be it the attempts on his life or the neglect that has been growing over the months. The way most of the pack just ignored him on a daily basis made him think of when he was still living with his parents, when they were still alive.

Everything stared to get shaky when Jason retuned from the grave. At first Tim had been exited in small part, since he had always looked up to the second robin. Then came the attempts on his life. Tim knew that in large part that had been the fault of the Lazarus pit and the Al Ghuls, but the scar never fully faded.

His relationship with the older alpha was now shaky at best. They could get along but there were some moments.

And then came Damian Al Ghul Wayne.

Things started to truly spiral for the young alpha with the arrival of the violent pup. In all honesty he could not fully blame all of the violent tendencies on the pup themself. Most of it had come from the way Damian was raised.

The Al Ghuls just loved to fuck with the Wayne pack in more ways than one.

Even that did not excuse most of his actions. The thing that got Tim the most however was how the pack barely reprimanded or the corrected the pup on his behaviour. Even when the demon spawn tried to kill him on so many occasions. He barely got a slap on the wrist. A very slow transition ensued for the pup and Tim because of this and to this day the demon spawn would try to kill him, at the most inconvenient of times.

And then the brat was given the robin mantle. No choice had been given to the youngest alpha in the matter. Dick had just taken the mantle and given it away with barely an explanation given or time for Tim to prepare a new identity before the reveal.

He relationship with his older brother became extremely strained after that.

After that whole debacle he had gone to find Bruce. In a sense hoping that it would help the pack. In a way it did, but Timothy became more and more like a poltergeist to the Wayne pack. He could stand right beside one of them and they just would not notice him.

Thank god for Alfred though if not for the old beta Tim would not have survived to this point.

And was one of the reasons why Timothy wanted to stay. But no, he needed to leave. He first thought of going to the titans but decided against that. He had gotten estranged with his old friends over the years and did not feel comfortable with still being so close to Gotham. No, he needed to start a new.

Which lead to were he is now. On a plane to Paris, staring melancholily out the window. He had prepared everything in advance to erase his old self from the Wayne pack and keep off their radar. There was a reason however for choosing Paris.

While once going through the justice league files, he came across a curious case that had been played off as a prank. It was a call for help from a few years back. It had been made by what had to have been a young teenage hero. She had called saying that a villain by the name of Hawkmoth had shown up and was using negative emotions to turn civilian’s into superpowered pawns to do his bidding. It had been written up as a prank because no calls for help had come for either the French government or the JLE. Then again Guy Gardner was the one to look into the case, so grain of salt. And when Tim looked into the case, he found nothing but nothing as in complete radio silence. As if Paris had completely dropped of the face of the earth news wise.

So, he would take a look himself and see for himself what this was about and if it was truly a prank than he could just find a way to start a new life in the city of love.

[furys-mercy]

Duplicitous Deeds, Part One

Sirni Dunoni had never in his life felt truly small. He’d discovered rather early on that it was not height that made the man, rather it was reputation, something he amassed easily after his father’s passing, thanks to a passing interest in goldsmithing and an overlarge inheritance. It had taken time and a not insignificant amount of gil, but he had managed to turn that minor interest into a booming enterprise, one that he was convinced would make him a household name. It was his reputation that drove nearly every action the Lalafellin man took, including his current foray into one of Ul’dah’s finest back-alley establishments.

“Wha’ can I get ya?”

The Lalafell did his best to stare down his nose at the highlander tending bar, a difficult feat from his precarious perch on the edge of a bar stool nearly twice his height. “Your finest.” He managed a sneer. “Whatever that may be.”

The bartender, more than accustomed to dealing with his type, set about locating a bottle of serviceable brandy. Or, at least, it would be considered serviceable to his usual, rowdy clientele.

“No, really! I ain’t makin’ shite up!” A cry sprang from the lips of a boy at a nearby table. He looked barely old enough to shave but was still dressed in the uniform given to the rank-and-file members of the Immortal Flames. The dusty leather book holstered at his hip made it more than clear what division he belonged to. “I saw it with m’own eyes!” “You must’a been too deep in your cups. Or you’ve gone an’ lost your wits. Wouldn’t be the first one’a us to face Ifrit an’ come back with a few… loose screws.” His much older companion sported wrinkles around his eyes and silver flecks in his beard, and it seemed he was having none of the boy’s shenanigans. “If August bleedin’ Mercer had summoned Bahamut, we’d’ve heard about it from here ta fuckin’ Hingashi.”

The boy opened his mouth to argue but was quickly interrupted.

“Think you can keep your stories’a big, damned, boy heroes to yourself for one night? I just want to enjoy m’ale without you swoonin’ all over a fuckin’ Ishgardian wastrel. He’s no more’n a two-bit mechanic. If he could do wha’ you claim you saw, then why’s he draggin’ his feet ‘bout joinin’ up, huh?” The soldier takes a long swig of his ale, ignoring the stray drop that landed in his beard. “Never thought ‘bout tha’, did ya, boy?”

The young soldier pushed up from his seat, face red with fury. “Don’t come cryin’ ta me when yer too drunk ta find yer own way home, Hunter. Jus’… jus’… get fucked!” And with that the boy turned on his heel and stormed for the door, leaving an untouched pint of ale within easy reach of his drunken comrade, who managed a small shrug before claiming the tankard for himself.  

“Here ya go.” The bartender slammed an unopened bottle of brandy on the bar in front of the lalafell, dragging his gaze away from the now concluded altercation. His sneer morphed into a duplicitous little grin as he snagged the bottle from the counter and left a bag of gil in its place. “Keep the change.” He called back; the words covered slightly by the sound of his dress shoes smacking against the rough stone floor as he made his way toward the increasingly intoxicated soldier.

Sirni Dunoni had never once passed up an opportunity to improve upon his reputation, even if that involved disparaging those he saw as competition. If the smirk on his face as he slid into the chair across from his mark was any indication, one might think he enjoyed it. “Apologies for my very rude intrusion. I couldn’t help but overhear. Were you just saying something about August Mercer?”

[fritae]

The Missing Piece:

Chapter 2 - Frustration

Gang leader! AU / Corporate! AU

Characters: Dabi x F/OC

Status: Ongoing

a/n: hey guys! so I'm playing with this idea and I'm not sure if I'm conveying it properly, but I hope you enjoy regardless! this story's really fun to write and I'm excited for what's to come! I'd really appreciate any feedback 🖤 thanks!

---

"Call Mr. Tobiro, tell him we're airing a new program next month" Mr. Lane tells me as we hurry through the halls.

I get confused. Didn't we resolve all this new program talk last week? I know the ratings still bother Mr. Lane, but enough to go against the board?"

"Sir, is this-"

"No. I'm not replacing any of the current shows. It'll be during the special programming slot on Saturday," He scowls. "A 2 hour special documentary about the Todoroki corp's amazing work these past few years. You know how popular the company is."

Something about this makes me uneasy. Why would he decide this out of nowhere?

His commands jolt me back to reality. "Make sure he adjusts the schedule and starts airing commercials. I want huge ratings, Ms. Aiko. We don't spend all this money to have another company show us up."

An intern quickly hands me Mr. Lane's morning coffee. I mouth a thank you and follow him to his office.

I place the coffee on his desk as he shouts on. I spot another employee carrying files for Mr. Lane. Her hands shake, as if she's trying to decide whether or not to drop them off now. We lock eyes through the glass and I decide for her.

Not now, I shake my head from behind Mr. Lane. Her eyes widen and she nods before quickly hurrying off.

"Are you listening to me, Ms. Aoki?

"Yes sir. I'll call Mr. Tobiro right away."

I keep a straight face as he shouts for the delay. As soon as I find an opening, I go out to call our corporate lawyer.

---

During lunch break, I head down to the cafeteria. I smile when I spot Aliyah and the crew. We tried to sync our lunch breaks to ensure we had some time together during the day (though we at times have to work through our breaks). It makes work feel less lonely.

"Rina!" She exclaims when I grab the seat beside her.

"We finally have some time together," I laugh before hugging her.

"Those bastards work you like a dog," She grumbles.

"You too," I pick at my salad. "Your hours are worse than mine."

"Yeah but I don't have the boss barking orders at me every second of the day. Rina's the real champ here, guys." She tells the table. The others clap at that, and we all share a laugh through mouths full of food.

As a couple executives make their way past our table, we stand up and smile at them in respect. But watching our smiles fall as soon as they walked away made me feel bitter.

"I hate how they treat us like trash and we still have to smile and kiss up to them." I whisper.

Al nods immediately. "But it's whatever. The more you kiss up, the better they'll pay you."

I don't respond to that.

Instead, I think back to the stranger I met last night.

Then what you want isn't money. You want more. He told me.

But the amount they pay us should be enough that we take whatever they throw at us.

Right? I mean, this is why everyone dreams of working here.

"Oh, by the way did you guys hear?" Aliyah suddenly whispers. "You know that multibillion dollar company uptown? Todoroki Inc.?"

"The one with all those charity projects?"

Todoroki Inc. was a big name in the industry. Their extreme success is known worldwide - but they're really known for their philanthropic branch: including building orphanages for the poor, handing out 6 figure donations, and the famous Boku no Hero Academia - where they train leaders in every industry to become tomorrow's changemakers, or as they call it "heroes."

Aliyah voice gets lower, a mischievous smile on her face.

"Except turns out Mr. Todoroki has been caught up in major lawsuits these past few months."

I frown. "For what?"

"Apparently there's been several child abuse cases at the orphanages he sponsors."

All around the table, our mouths drops. Usually lunchtime gossip involves the newest couples or breakups of the day. But this...

This has severe implications.

I'm not surprised that Al knows this. She interacts most directly with our guests and stars meaning she's in on a lot of industry gossip. But still...a major lawsuit like this?

"Is this real or is it one of your rumors?" Someone asks her suspiciously.

"It's as real as you or me! I saw videos . Trust me. There's plenty of people with beef against the company. Big boss Todoroki spent heavy money to keep it all hush-hush. But word travels quickly." She leans back in her seat with a smug look on her face. "We'll see how much power Enji really has by how quietly this unfolds."

"That's disgusting." I push my salad away, my appetite gone. "He can't get away with something like that. Where's the accountability?"

"There is no accountability, sweetheart. That's the way it works. You got money and power, you can get yourself out of anything. Besides, Enji has a reputation. He's got supporters everywhere, people see him as a hero because of all these charity projects."

"But they don't know what's happening in those projects!"

Suddenly, I remember something.

The special program!

I have to tell Mr. Lane. If this is really what's happening, we can't air something like this. It'll give people a false image of what the company stands for. Charity projects that have no proper supervision and that serve as places of abuse should never be celebrated.

"I- I have to go. I'll see you later Al, good luck with your schedule today!"

"But-"

"Sorry, I just remembered something I have to do."

I can't let her know about the program just yet. If I'm lucky, it hasn't been formalized into our official programming. I need to get to Mr. Lane before it does...

---

"Mr. Lane!" I barge into his office.

My boss looks up from his desk, slightly concerned at the look on my face. I slow down to catch my breath.

"Sir, about the Todoroki programming you want to set up. We need to cancel it sir, there's- there's a huge lawsuit going on. The orphanages - the kids are being mistreated sir, please-"

Mr. Lane leans back in his seat.

"Ms. Aoki, relax. That's not your concern. The deal is done."

"Sir...this will give a false image of Mr. Todoroki and his company."

"It's not a false image, it's an alternate image. That's what this whole industry is about. Mr. Todoroki is not responsible for what his managers do. And unless you're speaking with legal authority, I suggest you end this conversation now, Ms. Aoki."

"But sir! A program like this will give people cause to celebrate Todoroki Inc., rather than properly probe into these issues. What about the kids? The victims? Sir, please- this is about more than just-"

"This conversation is over, Ms. Aoki."

I try to think of another argument quickly. What else, what else. What could this nimrod possibly care about.

"But sir!" I say quickly. "If this blows up and becomes public knowledge, what will the people say about our company? It'll be bad for our name, we'll lose the respect we have in the industry, don't you think?"

Mr. Lane lets out a deep sigh. "Ms. Aoki, I know you're smarter than this. If the lawsuits go public..." I get worried by the excitement thrumming behind his eyes. "More people will tune in to watch the program. Everyone will be eager to see the other side. If we play our cards right the ratings will be-"

I scoff.

Mr. Lane stops speaking. The sudden ice in his eyes makes my bones go cold, but for once, I can't back down.

"The ratings?" I almost laugh. "Sir, I'm telling you there's kids being abused due to this man's lack of accountability, and you want to use that for profit? What about the truth? What about justice!"

"To hell with truth and to hell with justice!" He slams his fist. Mr. Lane gets up to tower over me. "I make the decisions here, Ms. Aoki. Your job isn't to advise me or to babble on about bullshit like the truth. This is a broadcasting company, and your job is to maximize profits - that's it! Got it?"

I feel my face grow hot.

"You've been running on thin ice for a while now, Ms. Aoki," His voice gets dangerously low.

I bite my tongue.

"I can assure you that no other company would give you the benefits package we've given you. It seems we've spoiled you, haven't we? That's why you're comfortable running your mouth like this."

"Sir, I-"

"I'll see to it that your salary is adjusted appropriately until you learn your lesson. And I warn you," He says through clenched teeth. "I see any of this behavior again, you'll be asking for much more than a salary reduction, Ms. Aoki. Got it?"

-----

Emotions I didn't know I could feel bubble within me. Hatred and rage boil deep in my core. But what can I do? What can I do.

I look from left to right. Trying to find something, anything to throw. Anything to take my anger out on. But when I find nothing, I hurry to the edge of Du Monde's roof. My chest heaves with the weight of my anger.

And as I overlook all of Midtown, and the entire city seems to be under me, I scream.

I scream and then I scream again.

I let out every trapped word that's been aching to escape.

All the swear words stuck to the back of my throat for years.

I release it all into the sky, knowing the wind will carry it for miles.

"Fuck you Mr. Lane!" I screech. "You no good fucking bald-headed, stout faced little piece of-"

"Woah!" I hear someone say.

Suddenly, a pair of arms pulls me back by the waist, as if to restrain me.

Of course, this does nothing but infuriate me more.

"Who the fuck- let me go! Let me go before I fucking rip every single finger off your hands and shove them-"

"Easy!" The voice says again, before releasing me on the ground. "Don't stand so close to the edge, idiot. You could fall."

"If I fucking fall, I want everyone to know it's Mr. Lane's fault! Fucking sue NNTV and put the Court verdict over my fucking grave so I know-"

"Hey! Look at me." The headless voice says. "No one's fucking fall-" He lets out an exasperated sigh. "Listen. I need you to calm down."

I scoff. Calm down? Is he telling me to calm down? With clenched teeth, I turn around. Ready to throw all my fury at this intruder. "Who the hell do you think you are? Don't you dare tell me to calm-"

My mouth drops when I lock eyes with the slightly concerned stranger.

With those electrifying blue orbs.

No.

This isn't a stranger.

Not a total stranger at least.

The man I bought coffee for last week at Du Monde stares back at me.

"...down."

A smile plays on his lips. "Hey. So you remember me."

"What..." I let out an annoyed breath, though it's not as angry as it was a moment ago. "...are you doing here?"

A toothpick sticks out of the corner of his mouth. He pulls it out as he ponders over my question. "Well, I was doing business. And then you decided to let all of New York know you were crazy."

I scoff. "You haven't seen crazy." I mumble.

"You got quite the mouth on ya," He smirks. "A little loud..." He tilts his head, as if considering again. "But you're honest."

I cross my arms and look toward the skyline, ignoring the people cautiously watching us from the other side of the glass. They can whisper to themselves about how crazy I am. This is New York. No one will remember this by tomorrow.

"Thanks. Now if you don't mind, I have other crazy things to do. And don't you have a business to run? People to be an ass to?"

The man tilts his head, as though slightly disappointed. But his lips remain curled. "Now come on. I've been hoping to run into you and you want to leave so soon?"

I frown. "Why would you want to run into me? You aren't a creep, are you?" I ask suspiciously.

"Creep?" He shoots me a pointed look. "There you go making a guy regret being nice," He tsks. "I was hoping to pay you back for the coffee."

He still remembers that?

"You know what," I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "Normally I'd say no need. But considering I'm probably gonna be jobless soon, I might just take you up on that."

"Well then," He stands up and offers me a hand. "I don't know how much crazy you still got left in ya so let's go somewhere a little closer to the ground."