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#hello misplaced aggression
bluerosefox · 2 years
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Rather Not
So this idea came to me as I writing the part 2 for that DC/DP Ra’s Summoning the Ghost King/Twin Damian and Danny idea (still working on it, like 70% done with it) and my brain wondered off onto those ideas of ghosts not liking being asked how they died.
And then it came up with this and I wanna get it out before it takes over my mind.
Danny/Phantom is a rather chill ghost when it comes to humans/mortals
Even when they ask “How’d you die?”
He waves it off (with an nervous laugh) and tells puns instead or avoids it. BUT he did say the first time people asked not to ask a ghost that question, its very rude.
However he said it in such a teenager way no one really takes it too seriously (you know in a nonchalant way but is actually meant to be in  “please don’t ask ghosts this, its rude and I’m serious”)  
Some people think he doesn’t know or he died embarrassing and doesn't want to admit it
However cause Danny doesn’t get mad or defensive about it, people keep asking. (Bonus points if they also asked Dani who just shrugs and says she doesn’t know, she doesn’t know asking a ghost how they died is basically taboo/ highly insensitive because she was CLONED a Halfa not MADE naturally)  
Eventually it all bubbles and spills from the constant asking
Maybe Danny was already dealing with a stressful day, from school to his parents to the random ghosts attacks, just everything has been bad and Danny isn’t in the best of moods.
So when some people come over to ask again, all smiles cause they think its a funny thing between Phantom and them, they aren’t ready.
The moment the words “No really Phantom, how’d you die?” the room suddenly feels like its below 0.
Its so cold ice is forming, the air is cold to the point living people can see their breathes and a chill and shiver run down everyone’s spine.
Then they notice Phantom.
Danny hadn’t turned around yet but they tell his body is stiff, hands clutched, his shoulders are tense and his hair is wisping even more than normal. Then he slowly turns and even a bone chilling shiver runs down everyone's spine whose watching.
His eyes are glowing, even more so than normal. They are neon and yet they call see the rage in them and because he’s floating just a tiny bit above, he’s looking down at them.
He’s hard frowning, and his eyes are narrow like he’s a second away from yelling at them. But he doesn’t.
Instead he speaks, calmly but everyone hear the hard yet haunting almost static tone in his voice. He wants to yell, scream, bellow his rage but instead he’s like the calm waves before a storm, their only warning, their last warning.
“I know I haven’t said much about this but I want you all to listen to me and listen well because I refuse to repeat myself on this. I told you all not to ask a ghost this question and yet you still tried with me.”
“I get it, I’m not like other ghosts who’d fly off the handle if you try asking them this but I have TOLD you not to ask and I am two seconds away from doing the same. Its not funny, its insensitive and nearly taboo to ask this question to a ghost. Even other ghosts don’t ask ghosts how they die, and most of time you get afterlife long enemies if you do while knowing this rule.”
“We ghosts are no longer bond by flesh, but we do remember pain. We ghost are basically echoing memories of emotions because of our core’s, our souls that are no longer in a body. We still feel pain even as ghosts, and when you ask a ghost how we die its like we relive that pain all over our bodies over and over. We HATE being reminded how we died.”
“So NEVER ask me how I died again... Because I’d rather not remember dying from full body electrocution.”   
And just to drive the warning home, Danny allowed his body to show the Lichtenberg scars he kept hidden (head-canon, ghosts can show or hide their death marks at will, Danny always unknowing/subconsciously hid his until Clockwork mentioned it and showed him)
Due to his hazmat suit they can’t see all of it but the marks that crawl up nearly his entire neck and up his face only stopping below his eyes, his eyes still glowing with pure held back rage makes everyone flinch. 
Once satisfied with the silence around him, Danny takes a breath and floats out of the room, the ice and cold fade along with him, he needed to calm down before he starts icing people.
No one asks him that question again.
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warraigoe-aa · 2 years
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ghosts are so deranged.
— ❛❛ // danny f. ¦ the invisobill. — ❛❛ // danny f. ¦ i go from geek to freak around here ! ・ 「 in ! 」 — ❛❛ // danny f. ¦ nowhere but the future ! ・ 「 images ! 」 — ❛❛ // danny f. ¦ hello misplaced aggression . ・ 「 musings ! 」
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Danny is the supernatural IRS
So after danny gets crowned ghost king, it's his responsibility to sort out all the paperwork, complaints, renovations and basicly get the infinite realms back on track
It was going smoothly until he sees afew things suspicious in this one universe...
Theirs someone named Constantine who hands his soul out like candy,
Someone called Klarion keeps messing with the natural balance of his universe while simultaneously stealing artefacts
Something called the Justice Leagues Dark are in illegal possession and use of artefacts and cursed objects
Theres something called a Lazarus pit thats been used for illegal resurrection by Re al ghul
Theres a zombie-ghost baby named jason todd who's been left unsupervised and put in dangerous situations
...yeah...dannys about to go nuts on this universe
Hello misplaced aggression my old friend
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akutasoda · 29 days
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hello, may I request jing yuan with a teen!reader who is jealous of yanqing? - they are around the same age as him, a new cloud knight who is an orphan, they try really hard to get the generals attention, even making him tea, buying presents etc. they want to be like yanqing, and are a bit jealous of the relationship with jy and yanqing, so they always try to prove themselves, even sacrificing food and sleep for their training, and are reckless during missions (bonus points if yanqing or jing yuan is present at the mission, they would literally fight until they pass out)
to prove oneself worthy
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synopsis - all you ever wanted was somebody to pay attention to you and the one person that does so is already doing so to somebody else
includes - jing yuan ft yanqing - all platonic
warnings - gn!reader, orphan reader, slight angst, fluff, sacrificing food and sleep?, passing out?, jealousy, wc - 1.6k
taglist - @teddirika
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you're parents weren't around. it was a simple fact, whether they had simply disappeared or died was unknown to you. all you ever knew was that you had no outstanding memories of them and that they certainly weren't atound anymore. this fact made it so you couldn't really care less for where they were or what had happened to them, they were rarely a thought that crossed your mind.
an orphan roaming around the streets of the luofu would bring attention, especially when you were resorting to any means necessary to survive and get by. petty thefts and minor acts of aggression were regular occurrences in your day to day live, cultivating a set of skills that aided in your fight for survival - including swift escapes from the cloud knights. an honest part of yourself really believed that you'd be a theif your entire life but a silver haired general thought otherwise.
jing yuan had become aware of the young one evading capture and committing very basic and mainly harmless crimes, how could he not? a part of him could sympathise with your situation, he understood that it was clearly your only mean of survival and so he didn't think that someone with their whole life ahead of them should be confined to the four walls of prison. your skills were impressive, there was a reason you hadn't been caught yet, so jing yuan thought that with the right guidance you would become a fine knight.
he would set out to find you himself, to personally extend his offer and hr wouldn't force you. if you declined then he had no choice but to arrest you himself and so he could only hope that you would see what he was trying to do and accept the offer. luckily for the both of you, you took up his offer. you understood that this would be the better way to pay for your crimes and would help you build a better future for yourself - earning back the trust of the luofu citizens you stole from.
what became pretty apparent very quickly was your unconscious growing attachment to the general. in between your training you would seek out jing yuan and if he wasn't busy you'd stick by his side. jing yuan was always incredibly busy and so you always tried to garner what spare attention he had left and demonstrate to him that his faith in you had not been misplaced - even going as far to bring him legally obtained presents.jing yuan was the only person to ever give you some kind of hope, somebody who believed you could be more than a street thief. it was evident that you would eant to thank him in some way, prove that his help would not go wasted.
jealousy was a vile emotion that made prople do horrendous things, it could break people apart and even force someone's hand to do something vile and unforgivable. you were no stranger to taking to underhanded tactics and resorting to frowned upon actions, so in any scenario you wouldn't have an issue with jealousy. this time it was different. you had been introduced to yanqing and saw him quite often, he was jing yuan's retainer afterall. there was something about him that just made you jealous.
you soon realised that it was his closeness to the general paired with his skills as a swordsman. yanqing had everything you could ever want. he had the generals attention, he had impeccable skills with a sword and he even was a capable knight without one and that made a vile anger boil inside you. but you wouldn't act on your jealousy. if you did you knew that jing yuan would be disappointed in you, he probably wouldn't want to ever look at you again and you would've proved to be a waste of his efforts. so you opted for a slow fix to your jealousy, working day in and day out to improve your skills to prove that you could be better than yanqing.
practically every minute of your day was spent with a sword in your hand, eventually coming to tell yourself that you weren't doing enough. you had managed to best every cloud knight more than once and decided that they simply weren't going to help you anymore, so you started sneaking away. in the dead of knight you'd head to mara-struck areas and defeat them - you didn't care that you lost out on your sleep. meals soon became irrelevant aswell, only ever stopping for a snack when you physically couldn't continue no more. you told yourself that it would all pay off in the end.
jing yuan noticed your absence pretty quickly, especially when even the other cloud knights would start claiming they hadn't seen you for days. a small part of him wondered if you were slipping back into your habits for stealing but he didn't want to think you would. he started piecing things together when he would see how fatigued you look and would try and question you when he was informed of how often your weary body would end up in lady bailu's care. he would ask bailu and she would tell him how your body would often not have enough nutrients to function properly and that your sleep was limited. jing yuan tried to confront you multiple times but you always weakly pushed him away and told him that you just wanted to train more.
he started sending yanqing on missions with you to keep an eye on you but you didn't take it that way, to you it was a dig in the face. to you jing yuan no longer saw you as a capable fighter and was trying to get you replaced on your missions. you wouldn't let that happen. unfortunately due to the lack of sleep and prioer nutrients in your body, your thoughts clouded over and so all your fights became clumsy attempts to wield a sword. reckless actions would be taken and eventually you'd pass out with too many unnecessary cuts, only slightly mitigated by the fact yanqing was there but you pushed him away from helping.
yanqing would soon find himself carrying your unconscious body back to luofu's infirmary's and lady bailu would have to be called in as the other healers simply couldn't fathom your injuries. jing yuan would also be contacted and would be there as soon as he could. each time you'd wake back up, wearily push everyone away and leave before any asked you anything. the next time anyone would see you would be in the same scenario - you passed out on a mission being dragged back to the infirmary.
jing yuan began to worry. each and every time you looked worse and worse but bailu always said the same things about exhaustion and lack of nutrients. jing yuan knew you were purposefully skipping meals and sleep in the name of training but he didn't understand why. he had a small inkling that it was to do with yanqing but he refused to believe you would resort to such extremes over something like this. eventually he had enough, when you woke up again from passing out on a mission he stopped you from leaving and told you dead straight that he was withdrawing you from your duties and that you were going to stay under care in the infirmary.
you were broken by the news. you had worked all day and night to get better at being a cloud knight, to beat yanqing and know all your hard work was to go waste because jing yuan didn't want you on duty anymore. you insisted that you were fine and didn't need this but it became very clear that jing yuan was not going to budge from his decision. however you simply wouldn't listen and would still sneak away from the infirmary to train out of bounds with the mara-struck.
the general had enough of your reckless behaviour. he understood that you were trying to improve as a knight but you're quest to do so had made you weaker and farther away from your personal goal. jing yuan personally pushed aside his duties to seek you out when the infirmary had told him you were missing and when he found you it wasn't a new sight. he watched with a saddened expression as you sloppily and recklessly took down the enemy, he winced when he saw your body hit the ground after you finished. you were out cold again, the general carried you back to the infirmary. this time he waited, waited until you regained conscious and made sure you wouldn't run away.
he confronted you as it pained him to see your talent go to waste and it hurt him to see how you treated yourself in the name of training. eventually he managed to weed the reasons for your behaviour out of you and due to your sheer exhaustion you couldn't help but start allowing tears to slowly escape and roll down your face. in this moment of weakness, jing yuan saw the child he found originally and offered a hug. one you gratefully took.
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courtofparrots · 2 months
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What cell type do you think Leon, Luis and Ashley are.
I think Leon is an enzyme
oh my god what a fun ask!!!
ok SO I could answer this a few different ways so I'm going to break it down into if they were bacterial cells, human cells, or cell machinery (since that's what an enzyme is, rather than its own cell type, but you're so correct, Leon is an enzyme)
As bacteria: featuring this picture of Leon the E. coli cell:
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Leon is E. coli FOR SURE. Truly the beloved white cis male of the bacteriology field (and I say this as both a Leon stan and an E. coli scientist lmao). The most well-known, the most studied (and actually is a bit overstudied, like there are other things to pay attention to) all around a star in the field.
Luis I think would be something like mycoplasma. SO underrated, but so unique and interesting when compared to other bacteria. A lot of lore for a bug that has very little research.
Ashley might be Bacillus cereus. overlooked to some extent but incredibly resilient, especially in the face of stress (we love a spore former!)
As human cells:
Leon is most like a macrophage, in my mind. They're a primary defense against infections, they keep the body safe, but they're not as aggressive or toxic as, say, neutrophils (Jack Krauser is a neutrophil)
Luis is a B-cell, takes in information and responds accordingly and is SO important for our immunity, but can sometimes misplace his trust and cause harm on accident (like causing allergic reactions in a sense!)
Ashley is a neuron, because not only is she vitally important and protected by the Luis and Leon immune cells, but she's also beautiful and smarter than the other two combined
As cell components:
Like you said, Leon is a protein, and specifically, he's an enzyme. He's the doer of the cell, he's catalyzing the chemical reactions and when something goes wrong it's all his fault.
Luis is DNA. He's got all the genetic info, he's the superstar that makes us what we are.
Ashley is lipid, aggressively overlooked, but soooo important! She holds the whole cell together!! (Hello, no Spain mission if she didn't go missing in the first place lol)
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bladiebabie · 1 year
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𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐀𝐤𝐢
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𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨: Aki Hayakawa
𝙁𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛 
𝘼/𝙉: Chainsaw Man and Blue Lock has revived me from the dead. Anyways, here’s some personal secretary aki headcanons. Please request more because the brainrot runs deep :’)
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– 𝙎𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙮 𝘼𝙠𝙞 who’s tall and intimidating but, at the same time, very handsome. He has all the girls and guys in the office swooning and pining for just one second of his attention. The moment he steps into the company, taking long strides to your office, all anyone can hear is a chorus of “Hello, Secretary Hayakawa~.” Aki is also diligent in how he works and dresses; there is never a day when his shirt is wrinkled or documents are misplaced. That’s just one of the reasons why you chose him to be your assistant.
– You’re CEO of a multimillion-dollar company at just 25. You were cold and calculated but fair and kind. After all, you didn’t get to where you were by playing nice and keeping your mouth shut. All noises would cease once your heels clicked throughout the office. You were just as intimidating to the public eye as the secretary you hired. That’s just one of the reasons why Aki chose to work with you in the first place.
– However, as similar as you and Aki were, you guys butted heads ALL. THE. TIME. It was to the point where it drove some of the other employees crazy with how much the two of you would argue over such trivial matters. Of course, it didn’t help that none of you were willing to ever lose an argument because of your stubbornness.
– Whatever idea you had, Aki seemed to have the opposite, and whatever opinion he had, you disagreed. So there would just be constant bickering from your private office because not a day goes by that you weren’t at each other’s throats. There were moments when the fights would get so bad that none of you would talk to each other for days, only passive-aggressively passing notes when you needed something.
– When asked why Aki still worked for you even though all you guys seemingly do is argue, he’d nonchalantly shrug and reply, “It pays well enough, I guess.” And when someone would ask why you still haven’t fired him, you’d sigh and say, “He gets the job done.”
– The employees at your company shipped you guys together despite the yelling and words thrown around the office because they saw how you guys would make it up to each other in the days that followed.
– Aki would go out of his way to buy your favorite coffee and pastry first thing in the morning, having it ready and piping hot on your desk when you came in because he knew that you had stayed up the previous night to finish a business deal. He’d replace the withering flowers in your office with your favorite ones that you’d always buy in the floral shop around the corner. Aki would wordlessly place a homemade lunch on your desk when the afternoon came because he knew that you wouldn’t have time to eat today. He’d wait for you when everyone else had gone home because Aki didn’t want you riding the train when it was so late. These were only a few ways he’d apologize to you.
–  You would buy Aki’s coffee mid-day because you knew the fatigue of running errands weighed down on him, and he needed a quick energizer. Then, at lunchtime, when he’s out with Denji and Himeno, you’d stop by the dry cleaners with his suit jacket in hand that was left on his chair, wanting the clothing to be crisp when he returned. Finally, once Aki has dropped you off at your apartment late in the night, you’d reach over to where his hand rests on the gear shift, offering a slight squeeze and a soft smile; you told him to drive safe and text you when he gets home. These were only a few ways you’d apologize to him.
– However, there were days when the two of you would bring each other coffee simultaneously. You’d both stare at the piping hot cup in the other’s hand before reaching out and wordlessly exchanging it. The tip of your fingers would brush together, sending an electrifying tingle down your spine that made you quickly turn away to hide the heat rising in your cheeks. You appreciated how calloused and rough Aki’s hands felt, hardened by years of hard work to get to where he is now. Aki gently smiled because an indescribable feeling bloomed inside his chest when you brushed his hands. He didn’t know what it was; he just knew he liked it. Aki appreciated how soft and supple your hands felt, despite the blood, sweat, and tears you had put into building this company.
– As you and Aki made your way to your respective desks, you couldn’t help but push this feeling into the back of your mind because it was supposed to be nothing… right?
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© all work on this blog belong to mitsuyahh. do not steal, copy, or plagiarize. reblogs are appreciated!! ♡
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kpforpresident · 1 year
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double entendre
"Hello? Earth to Clarke? Baby?"
Clarke comes back to awareness slowly, then all at once as she snaps back into reality. Lexa is crouching in front of her with an amused albeit knowing smirk on her face, a slightly curling whisp of hair hanging down in front of perfect green eyes. A small smudge of potting soil marred one perfectly flushed, freckled cheek- the only indication they had been vacationing on a sunny Spanish beach the week prior.
Clarke shakes her head slightly to pry her gaze away from where she had been staring at Lexa's jean clad ass as she bent and glided seamlessly through the flower shop, gathering individual stems from various piles to complete some soft or special bouquet- prom? a wedding? a bar mitzvah? Clarke had tuned out as soon as Lexa had tugged her soft navy sweatshirt over her head to reveal a thin white tank top, a strap slipping off to conveniently reveal a lilac bra strap.
Clarke's mouth watered as her imagination wandered to what she knew was underneath the t-shirt bra, having had her mouth sealed around the right one just a handful of hours previously- two perfect capped deep blush nipples.
"Clarke? Baby, where is your head today?"
Clarke shakes her head frantically, trying to shove some semblance of a thought back into her brain.
"Get it together, Griffin, there's still 30 minutes until closing," Clarke thinks furiously to herself as she aggressively pinches the bridge of her nose with her free, non-dirt covered hand. A slim hand reaches up silently to cover hers, pulling Clarke's hand away to press a lingering kiss to the back of her hand.
Clarke can feel Lexa smile into the back of her hand as she briskly pulls her to her feet, smacking her ass with a loud crack as Clarke yelps in shock.
"Love, where's your attention gone to? You've been doing so well."
"I- you- what-" Clarke stammers in a newfound haze of lust and disbelief as the brief sting cushioned by her yoga pants moved lower and became a darker heat.
///
Yes, baby. You're doing so well, Lexa had murmured into her thigh, last night, sucking another stinging purple mark into the meat of her slightly shaking thigh before moving slightly to slide Clarke's right leg over her shoulder, opening her up wider. Clarke shivered slightly in anticipation as her eyes fluttered shut under the onslaught of stimulation. Her hand clenched the bedsheets involuntarily as a stream of cool air blew across her clit.
"That's it, love, just let me make you feel good," Lexa whispered into the curve of her hipbone, smile lupine and feral before lowering her head once again to lick into Clarke.
Clarke gaped soundlessly at Lexa once again, feeling a flush creep steadily up her neck. While Lexa was attentive with boundless energy and a undying love of making Clarke cum as many times as humanly possible, it had been only recently that she had become more vocal, more sure of herself when in charge in their bed.
Lexa winks innocently as she turns back to the floral arrangement on the beaten wooden desk, elegant fingers neatly tying twine around a line of slender green stems.
"Clarke, be a good girl please and find me the baby's breath that Aden too inventory of yesterday? It's here somewhere, I just seem to have misplaced it..." Lexa trails off as twinkling green eyes meet incredulous blue ones.
///
"Yes, good girl," Lexa said breathlessly, eyes intent on Clarke's face as Clarke soared over into the most intense O of her life. Clarke feels her entire body lock up with white hot pleasure as Lexa's fingers find her g-spot and press, all while swiping a slim finger over her clit.
///
With effort, Clarke manages to swallow the lake of drool that she knows has been gathering in her her mouth so as not to choke and completely loose her cool in front of her ridiculously hot albeit mischievous girlfriend.
Clarke knew that Lexa would rather swallow her tongue than ever tease Clarke like this in front of a customer, their current saving grace to the steamy tension that was currently building between them an empty flower shop. Clarke chances a desperate glance again at her wristwatch, her father's hand-me-down that Lexa had silently gotten fixed for Clarke as a one year anniversary present.
Four minutes to closing.
Clarke makes an executive decision and lunges for the door, slamming the cheery open! sign to closed so fast the glass door wobbles in its frame threateningly.
Mind made up, she locks the door decisively and hits the main light beside the entrance. Velvety darkness falls over the shop, the only light a cool toned hum from the cut roses case on the far side of the shop and the buttery glow of the back room's lamp.
Clarke slowly crowds Lexa back into the counter, grinning in delight as Lexa's pupils slowly expand under Clarke's heated gaze to swallow the forest green iris she loves so much.
Clarke laces their hands together and tows Lexa quickly towards the back room, thanking every deity that she could recall that they kept a blow up mattress and sheets stashed in the closet ever since Lexa had been trapped there in the dead of winter last year.
"Time to make good on your teasing, pretty girl," Clarke manages to get out before crashing their lips together. Tussling with Lexa's shirt as she finds a plump bottom lip and sucking it into the heat of her mouth, she smiles slightly as she tugs Lexa closer and bites. Lexa manages to get out a noise between a gasp and a whisper before pressing herself against Clarke.
"Whatever you want love, however you want it," Lexa says throatily, eyes fixed on Clarke's kiss- swollen mouth. Clarke crashes their lips together once more as she flips the switch to inflate the mattress and press her very willing girlfriend up against the wall, sliding to her knees in the meantime. Lexa's head hits the wall with a thud as Clarke's fingers make quick word of her jeans button.
///
They leave the flower shop 4 hours later, slightly more rumpled than they arrived that morning but grinning dopily at each other as they slowly meander their way home, hands intertwined.
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vodika-vibes · 26 days
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NOT MIGUEL O’HARA ACTUALLY SWINGING IN AND FIGHTING WITH BEST GIRL ARACHNE TO GET HER HELP?? THAT IS NOT HOW YOU ASK FOR HELP MIGUEL 😤
In his defense, Arachne hasn't been having a stellar few weeks, and this is kind of like the straw that broke the camel's back, so to speak. All of the bad just bubbled over, and look, there's someone who can actually take a punch from her.
It's one of those, "hello misplaced aggression" kind of scenarios.
The men of the 501st watch, in growing bewilderment as the two spider people attack each other with the same intensity that one might expect of people trying to murder each other. "I'm guessing," Fives says blandly, "That that's not Peter or Miles." "Just how many spider people are there?" Echo adds. "Well, at least four," Dogma points out logically, wincing as Arachne is thrown into a weight set, and then wincing again as she uses a weight as a frisbee. He's almost relieved when the strange man catches them and drops them to the ground. None of the 501st even stir as the door slides open, and Quinlan walks in, "Hello 501st! I have questi-" He stops, "What the actual kriff?" There's a scuffle, and when the fighting stops, Arachne is dangling from the stranger's hand, hanging from her ankle. Her arms cross over her chest, and she's clearly pouting. "Best two of three." She offers. "No. Absolutely not. Are we feeling less homicidal now?" "Kriff you." The man is about to respond when suddenly it looks like he's glitching. And Arachne falls through his hand and lands on her back. She sits up and peels her mask off, to watch him. "That looks painful," She admits, as she absently rubs an already healing bruise on her cheek. "It is. I need your help." "I don't know what kind of help you need from me, I'm hardly an expert in multidimensional travel." "How did you get here?" "Kingpin shot me." "...oh. I need a lab." Arachne just sighs, "Fine. I'll help you. But only so you'll leave sooner." "Deal."
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elvesandlanterns · 11 months
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Ghost helpline chapter 37
Jason couldnt help but give his entire family the side eye. Seriously Bruce? A family dinner? Family dinner with thier nieghbors?? That he has a crush on ???!!! Pppfff oh yeah this was going to work out swimmingly. Whatever.
Jason didn’t know why he felt so knotted up inside about the whole thing. It’s not like they were going to find anything and “Brucie” has had plenty of guests over before. And yet Jason felt snubbed, Bruce knew Jason wouldnt be able to join in. He was still legally dead and couldnt just pop into joint family dinner like “oh yeah I got better dont worry about it”. No Jason would need to steer clear of the mannor all together.
Meanwhile his siblings would get to tease dad about his crush, grill the Masters family and talk to Damiens new friend. Because seriously Damian making friends, with a normal girl? Just wow. Good for the kid, because he defiantly hadn’t learn that from Bruce he scoffed for fucking hells sake even Vad had a sketchy criminal history on his buisness Dalv co.
It stung, it was so fucking stupid but it stung. Why didn’t Jason get to be there. Why didn’t he get to shovel talk Bruce’s crush, eat Alfred’s food, sit around awkwardly, and tease Damian relentlessly?
Jason knew why. He did. Logically Jason knew it wasn’t an attack on him. That Bruce hadn’t purposefully done things this way to exclude him. That he was/n’t an embarrassment, dangerous and unwanted to meet Bruce’s new crush because he couldnt be trusted. It wasn’t personal, it’s not personal.
Beep beep
Jason glanced down to his burner phone and grinned manically at the photo of the skunk haired man he’d been tracking strolling into a warehouse… ..with someone young and pink on their arm. Jasons stomach rolled in disgust at the age difference, “Well hello misplaced aggression.”
——
Damian had been hanging around the Masters manor regardless of fathers …complications of the heart. He and Violet needed to plan a strategy of course. The plan had to be seem-less to even stand a chance of working. A part of that involved English lessons which thankfully doubled as a cover. Damian huffed to himself as Violet failed to write neatly again. It was odd to watch, she could speak with a fair sense of clarity and understood difficult concepts when spoken to but written language seemed to illude her. It was frustrating to watch, her hands moved wrong twisting against the pencils and often snapping them. Damian watched as her hand seemed to twitch uncomfortably as she finished.
“You’re bad at this.”
“Gee thanks I had no idea.”
“Tt. It’s ridiculous anyone as old as you should know how to read and write at a higher level than a sixth grader.” Damian felt his hand fall down his face, “You text just fine though, your horrid grammar aside.” Meaning a big part of the problem was physical….now that he thought about it … he hadn’t seen Violet without her human disguise despite already knowing her secret. Both forms had gloves. There’s something else going on here.
The assassin felt ice at his back.
“Let me see your hand.”
That coldness remained as a small warmth was thrown against his chest as she unthinkingly shoved her hand in his face and ate away at her sugary processed snack- dirtying her practice writing paper further.
Taking off her gloves gave sight to three short claws black from tip to knuckle, two fingers incased in a familiar metal. He hadn’t expected it at all, was Violet allowing him to see this purposefully? A limitation of her glamor? A benefit of their bond?
Beep beep
Damian dropped the others hand to glance at the text. Father did what!?
“What do you enjoy eating?” What do demons even eat? Can demons be vegans? She does look a tad like a ram.
“Red and dad make the best cakes!!!”
“Tt. I meant real food, and I’m sure you will change you mind at tomorrows dinner. Alfred’s desserts are superior to all else.” He planned to ignore her millionth mention of “Red”, she was beyond obsessed and he was not falling for the bait… again. Ugh.
Violet stilled, “Oh are you staying for dinner tomorrow.”
“No it would seems our fathers have gotten it into their minds to bring us all into their nonsense.” Damian huffed.
Violet groaned, “Uhhh nooo I don’t want to.”
“Yes well as detestable as it will be -“
“Not that I just, I don’t like eating in front of humans.”
A delicate eyebrow rose at the statement.
“This isn’t “real food”, human food isn’t my food.” Blood guts crunching on a heart like an apple, wide green eyes staring at her horrified. Scared.
Damian thought about it more. Pencils breaking, the way her hands shook and holding a fork was probably difficult for her?
“So what do you consider food to you?”
“Anything.”
“Violet.”
“Anything I’m a scavenger demon …” her eyes rolling at the look on his face, “Tendons, bone, eyes, decorative flowers and overgrown weeds. You could say we are real … vultures.” She chuckled at her inside joke.
The way she spit out the term “scavenger demon” had him reeling a-bit. There was an obvious issue there… somewhere. Fear slithered threw the bond unwillingly, self deprecating and shallow. He at least understood this feeling well.
The feeling that screamed :
Don’t look at me. Don’t look at me like /that/.
Well he supposed he at least knew a good dish to have made for her. Hopefully Alfred wouldn’t mind a change in the menu.
—- —— —-
Bruce was NOT freaking out he wasn’t! And he will deny it forever. He just really wanted this to go well. He needed this to go well.
And he loves his children deeply! But sometimes they could all be a bit much….
At… family dinners. They yelled and fought and they were all fairly high strung but the Masters weren’t like them half of them looked like a strong breeze could knock them over dear lord….
“Bruce!”
“Bruce.”
“B!”
“Ow!!”
….please just, just don’t fight in front of Vlad.
—- —- ——
The triplets, sans Ziyad, positively swarmed their fathers closet. This was going to be great!
Klarion and Billy looked over at Dandy’s murderous face, this was going to be awful.
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randomideafairy · 1 year
Text
Trivia Night - Chapter 6
Fic under the cut just in case you don’t wanna go to Ao3 for it :)
Danny spots the two as he finishes his last question and freezes. Looking at the two converse, he decides that the world hates him and he needs to leave. He gathers his things as fast as possible and gets outta there before they notice, he needs to get to his job, college doesn’t pay for itself after all. Besides, when has ignoring his problems ever backfired on him, nevermind the fact that they know where he works… It's future Danny’s problem.
———
Future Danny hates past Danny, why did he not deal with this earlier? Now he has two stalkers, one of which is really starting to get on his nerves. It’s almost like he’s back in Amity again with only a few differences. He actually has time to do his homework now for one, his house doesn’t actively try to kill him, and he has nowhere to place his misplaced aggression. On the other hand he’s in a city that radiates so much death that it feels like he’s home by the portal, he has his old stalker with an add-on, and with how Gotham is, he wouldn’t be surprised if a billionaire was masquerading a secret identity on the side.
Danny shakes his head, he’s being paid to bartend, not deliberate his life. Besides he was getting off topic, he was shitting on past Danny and his poor choices. Thanks to his past self he has to babysit Wes and his new best friend. Nygma was tolerable before, if only because at the very least he had the common courtesy to keep his infinite questions to himself but now that he met Wes he was asking questions like he was in a speedrun competition and had something to prove.
Lucky Danny learned the true and tried way to get rid of Wes-like stalkers, annoy them until they don’t want to stalk you anymore.
“Are you Wes’ dad?” The two shut their mouths for the first time since they walked into the bar. “What are you talking about Danny! You’ve seen my dad before.” Wes cut in.
“Yeah but I thought we were talking about conspiracy theories so I brought mine up. I mean it could be true, you both have the same red hair thing and the stalking down-“
“We are investigating-“
“-so you gotta suspect if you’re his secret love child”
———
They almost look identical, from their red hair to their know-it-all attitude Jason noted, they were also harassing the cute bartender he’d been meaning to talk to. Jason walked up and grabbed The Riddler, lifting his lanky ass up like he was a boneless puddle of a cat and plopped him down to the side as he sat down right in front of the bartender.
“Hello handsome, I’m Jason. Are these two bothering you?” He asked as he ignored the sputtering besides him.
“Well Mr. Sweet-talker, I’m Danny and we were currently discussing their secret familial background” He replied back as leaned forward onto the bar, “I think Wes is Mr. Nygma’s secret love child”.
Jason smirked.
“Well I’ll be damned, I was thinking the same thing” Jason turned to his men and said, “You guys see it too right?”
His men all agreed to the statement and soon the bar was filled with speculation on the hows and whys on how it could be possible
The Riddler opened his mouth to argue when Harley cut him off.
“Aww Eddie, you got yourself a lil mini-me? Damn does Pengie know?”
“He’s not my k-”
“Are you saying you wouldn't want him as your son?”
“That’s not-”
“Oh, so are ya proud of your kid?”
“He’s not-”
“Not proud?”
“I-”
“I understand, who would want a beanstalk stalker for a son right?”
“SHUT UP, STOP CUTTING ME OFF. He’s a damn good kid and I would be proud to have a kid like him!”
———
Wes was speechless. He didn’t think that Ed thought of him so highly, especially since they had only met a week ago. Maybe his theory that Gotham was secretly a breeding ground for serial adopters was true after all. Bruce Wayne adopted what? 5-6 kids? Not even including his actual kid and all the others that hung out around him-that led him to another theory that they were actually moonlighting as a vigilante group-
“Aren’t you glad Wes?”
Wes could hear the smirk on his dumb face.
“A conspiracy was finally proven correct in your presence”
“Fuck off Danny”
———
Harley be smarter than Ed at times, this be one of the times, he really gotta collect that temper of his, congrats on his adoption ig lol
Here’s a meme I made just for this phic
Tumblr media
Sorry for the lack of fic for the past few months, been busy with life, not gonna promise that I’ll write faster but I do have an outline written out for how the story is gonna go (kinda had it written out back in February but my handwriting is pretty awful and it took me a while to find a writing to text app, T^T still had to proofread the heck out of it but at least I have it in my docs now I suppose).
It’s probably gonna be a chapter or two (depending on how long I make the chapters and how vicious the plot bunnies decide to attack me/word vomit that comes thanks to the bunnies) after this one before I end this fic and have any extra ideas that pop up (which are a surprising lot that I just have to build on) be oneshots in the series. Thank you guys for all the love y’all been giving my phics \(^o^)/
See y’all in the next one :)
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unknownarmageddon · 7 months
Note
killer found a another sundress. that, in of itself, shouldn't be anything new. typical killer activities often include finding sundresses, after all. killer seemed to really like them, and cross could understand that; sundresses were colorful.
by definition, killer and sundresses were synonyms. bright little things, sticking it through the societal crash.
but for some reason, killer really really liked this one. it was nearly white, splattered with abstract blotches of bright red poppies and hazy purple buds. perhaps it was the variety of colors? maybe it was because cross had been the one to point it out?
whatever the reason, killer had scuttered off to put it on, snickering and grinning like a dork, and now cross was here, leaning against a pillar in the crumbling remains of a food court, rubbing at a misplaced sticker on the pommel of his machete. he doesn't know how or when killer got it on there, but the little pop of color was textured. bumpy, like the soles of a soccer cleat.
it was little cat. he vaguely remembered it being popular at one point, hello kitty or something. killer liked cats.
cross slid his machete out of its casing, flipping it around, a fidgety habit he'd picked up from watching killer so often. killer had so many knives on him, and he always seemed to have on spinning on his fingers. because of that, cross had somehow wound up doing about the same with his own blade. it wasn't a nice as the way killer's flipped his knives, but, then again, killer was on another level with most things like this anyways.
cross clicked his tongue, and sheathed the weapon. he had to break that habit; he'd end up cutting a finger off if he kept trying to pull weird fancy tricks like killer. he could just watch killer do it, get his kicks that way.
"crisscross! yo!"
arms draped around his neck from behind, killer jumping onto him and clinging to him like a racoon trying to climb a tree. his legs wrapped around cross's waist, and then gravity pulled killer down again, and cross choked, stumbling backwards before finding his balance again and reorienting himself. he instinctively twisting his arms behind his back to grip killer's femurs, keeping the idiot from sliding off and alleviating some of the pressure on his neck.
"i told you to not do that," he grumbled, to which killer snorted and wiggled around in response to.
"quit whinin', ya big pup," killer cackled, but he wiggled a little more aggressively and cross let him go. killer slid off cross's back, jumping around to dramatically spin in front of cross. the yellow-white dress fluttered around killer's knees, the flowers on it rippling, and cross's mouth went dry.
at this rate, cross was going to like the sundresses as much as killer did, but for all the wrong reasons.
killer beamed up at him before grinning down at himself, running his hands over the pale fabric.
"it's a little loose, this definitely wasn't made for boney fellas like me," killer commented, despite the fact that, in cross's opinion, it was perfect.
"and, it has pockets! hah!" killer stuck his hands in the dress's pockets, demonstrating that it, in fact, did have pockets, and cross chuckled despite himself.
"it looks great, 'coon."
killer's face flushed with a pink-ish hue, his grin wide and genuine as he bounced on his toes, "fuck yeah it does! i'm so fucking pretty, look at this, watch this, watch this,"
killer started spinning, and cross knew immediately that he'd fall over afterwards, but he did have a point. he was pretty.
-proximity anon :]
OHHHH oh my god dude I’m so fucking unwell
I love themmm I love them the guys ever wawawawa
I love all the little mannerisms and details and just. Everything in this one a lot actually aughhh augh
This one is. Very good it really is
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asteria-argo · 4 months
Note
🌹🌺🌹🌼🌹
hello! thank you for the flowers, in return have some Jamie and misplaced aggression!
just get through it was shit advice Jamie decided. He didn’t even care that Richmond had come barging into his life and crumbled the carefully built wall that was supposed to separate Jamie Baker from Jamie Tartt at this point, no, it was the fucking lesson plans that were going to do him in. He’d been fucking prepared and everything, spent half the break getting them all together with Skye, but now half of them had gone to shit because he had to incorporate Sam fucking Obisanya and the unavoidable distraction that would cause into them. “are you absolutely sure I can’t quit?” Skye mumbles. They’re sprawled out on the floor of Kareems flat, because it had the most space for the three of them to spread out on and no slobbery baby demanding attention to contend with. It was the same position the three of them had been in for basically the entire week since the meetings, because they needed to rework fucking everything for an entire semester. “You aren’t leaving me alone with this bullshit,” Jamie replies staring at his laptop blankly. They’d been doing this for four hours now, and he feels like he’s going a bit out of his mind. And maybe, just maybe, Jamie was throwing himself into these stupid lesson plans with all of his energy so he didn’t have to think about the fact that come tomorrow, the mentorship program would officially begin.
also if anyone is a teacher and the way i depict teaching is wrong, my bad, I'm not a teacher so I'm just guessing and/or harassing my brother into telling me things
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Text
A Blue Bird and a Black Cat pt 10
(Selina decides that Marinette would be better as the Cat than Adrien. Five years, later Dick is very confused about this Lady Noire)
ao3 Beginning Previous
Marinette did not have DID. She knew this for a fact because she had researched Dissociative Identity Disorder exhaustively with Harley and had come to the conclusion that she did not have it by only the barest of margins. However, the similarities between herself and DID Systems had been so similar at first, that Marinette had gone into a panic wondering if she would have to tag another mental illness onto the growing list, that she and Harley had been making. But that didn’t stop her from going down the checklist every now and then and wonder at her own sanity.
Did she suffer childhood trauma? It was teenage trauma, but yes.
Was the trauma repeated frequently? Akumas attacked every other day and Lila’s torment had been unending, so yes.
Did she dissociate during the trauma? Of course, she dissociated! It was the only way to keep her emotions in check, and therefore keep her from being akumatized and thus ending the world!
Did she create alternate identities to protect her and help her cope with the abuse? Yes, Ladybug, Lady Noire, MDC, the Guardian, and Marinette were all completely different people. They had different jobs, different personalities, and different abilities.
Was she aware of herself when she was one of the other? Yes.
If the answer to the last question had been no, then the other names would not have been masks. They would have been completely different people, who all happened to share the same body. And after meeting some real DID Systems and getting to know and understand them, Marinette understood just how close she had come to that reality. If she had been just a few years younger. If she had just been slightly less self-aware, then she would not be Marinette with a half a dozen masks to hide her from the world. She would be a “System” of multiple personalities each vying for space in the same mind. As it was, Marinette did not have DID. No, she just had half a dozen Alter Egos that were so contradictory, and so real that at times they felt like separate people. But in the end she was still just one person. She was still just Marinette. 
Those had been a terrifying few months for Marinette, as she struggled to come to terms with her identity. Selina had barely left her side the entire time because she had so many panic attacks. She was still learning how to feel and so she barely knew what to do with the roiling emotions in her chest. So when the Joker had pushed her aside in a non-descript diner on a random Tuesday, Marinette barely even thought of the consequences. And she was angry. She was angry at the people who had made her this way. She was terrified of what she was becoming. She was grieving for the life she didn’t have, the life she should have had. And she was desperate for anyone to help her.
Hello, misplaced aggression targeting the single worst individual in the entire world!
Marinette barely even remembered the encounter she had been in such a daze of unbridled catharsis. But a month afterward, when the Joker broke out again, she did feel a small flush of satisfaction when she noticed that the Joker’s suits were no longer quite the eye sore they used to be. Oh, they were still as tacky as Hawkmoth’s akumas but they were steadily improving every month, so baby steps.
Watching and re-watching the video of her beating up the color-blind clown for about four hours, brought up a lot of memories for Marinette. They weren’t bad memories, or good memories, just memories. Memories of her fears, and her questions. She had been so desperate back then. Desperate for normalcy. Desperate for answers. Desperate for a purpose now that her quest of five years was finally over. And the idea of having another mental disorder…well it probably set her back a good two months in therapy.
When Marinette finally returned to the abandoned building that Harley and Ivy had converted into their home/lab/headquarters. She found that she was too emotionally exhausted to work on any of her projects, but to tightly wound by memories to get any sleep. She did not want to dissociate into nothingness like she had the night before, but Harley and Ivy weren’t there to distract her, and Selina had stayed at the Manor.
Marinette sett down her bag and lazily watched the kwami buzz around the living space. They weren’t doing anything especially chaotic or exciting. They were just existing. Plagg was complaining that they were out of cheese. Tikki was scolding him for eating it all. Nooroo was napping on the leaves of Ivy’s larger plants with Duusu. Wayzz and Pollen were guarding them from Trixx and Roaar who had gotten their paws on a sharpie. Fluff and Sass were having a debate about the finer points of time travel. And the rest were spread out around the apartment in various starts of lounging, eating, and other forms of entertaining themselves. But not even the meditative entertainment of watching the kwami could distract her from the impromptu movie night she had just been apart of and the memories and feelings it stirred.
Finally Marinette latched onto one of those memories and pulled out her phone. She scrolled through her contact list until she came to as section that was just a series of emojis for each contact. She gave the image a soft smile, and then she selected one that was a flower, a bat, and a dancing girl. She drummed the table nervously as the phone rang. It had been a long time, but not that long. Unless it had been too long, and they no longer liked her! And what if they were insulted that she hadn’t talked to them in over five months? And what if—
“Hello?” a soft voice answered after the third ring, interrupting Marinette’s hastening spiral.
“Hey, it’s Marinette,” she said hoping the nervousness wasn’t too obvious. “To whom am I speaking to right now?”
“Marinette! It’s me Daisy, how are you girl!” The girl on the other end of the line cried cheerfully. “How are you? It’s been too long!”
“I’m good!” Marinette exclaimed as relief poured down her spine like water in the shower. “How are you and the rest of your system?”
“Oh, we’re fine,” Daisy said, her bubbly smiles brightening each word she said, “We tried integrating a few months back, you know, but then we got caught in a Scarecrow attack, and now we have a new identity! I can’t wait to introduce you to Marven. He’s only five, very shy and scared of everything, but I think he’ll love you!”
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Marinette said softly, “And I can’t wait to meet Marven. Why don’t we get lunch sometime? I’m actually in Gotham right now for Selina’s wedding.”
“Oh, that’s just grand! By the way are you still running with the Rogues?”
“They’re Sirens not Rogues! And seriously aren’t you a Gothamite? Shouldn’t you know this?”
“No that’s Batgirl, I’m from Metropolis.”
“Right sorry I forgot!”
“That’s ok!” said the endlessly happy Daisy. “Oh! By the way Batgirl wants to talk to you. Do you mind?”
“Not at all I’d love to talk to her,” Marinette said with a smile, and she waited for her friend to switch in silence. As she waited, she wondered if the real Batgirl knew how many Systems had identities based off of hers. The fact was that if you grew up in Gotham (or Paris during the reign of Hawkmoth) the odds of having DID and other such rare mental illnesses sky rocketed. And when you’re a little girl suffering from any number of abuses and traumas every day, and you see a girl not much older than you flying over the roof tops to save the day…well it’s easy to see how Marinette knew at least three systems with a Batgirl identity.
“Hello Mini Cat.” It was still Daisy’s voice coming through the phone, but it was far more serious and harder than Daisy’s soft, bubbliness. Marinette often imagined that it was what Daisy’s voice would sound like if she didn’t have DID. That girl had been through too much.
“Hello Mini Bat,” Marinette returned without a second’s pause. “Daisy said you wanted to talk.”
“Yes,” Batgirl said simply, “I just needed to ask you a question.”
“Shoot.”
“Is Selina Catwoman, and if so does that mean Bruce Wayne is Batman?”
Marinette found herself laughing. “If this girl could hold a steady job,” she thought a little bitterly, “She’d be Police Commissioner by now, and Gotham would be better for it.” But instead she said, “Batgirl, you know I can’t answer any questions about the Sirens! Or any of the Batclan I meet! I thought you respected that. Besides what makes you think that? ‘Do the butts match?’”
“No need to get snippy, Mari, I know the importance of a secret identity better than anyone. If anyone knew the truth about me, Daisy, and Marven…well.”
“I get it,” Marinette said with a small smile on her lips. Daisy/Batgirl knew she wasn’t the real Batgirl. But that didn’t stop her from acting like it. She shook her head when she realized what Batgirl had just said. “Wait what happened to Jessica?”
“Daisy told you we attempted integration? Well, we got to the point where Daisy and Jessica integrated, and things got…better. But then Scarecrow attacked Daisy’s place of work, and now we have Marven. Now we are waiting to see if Jessica is back, or just dormant.”
“Do you think you’ll try again?” Marinette said cautiously. Integration was a tricky subject for most Systems. Some thought it was a betrayal. Some thought it was the goal. Some just didn’t care. Marinette's problems were not the same, but she understood them. Her masks were precious to her, and the thought of getting rid of one of them…of losing one them…it was a scary thought. And she most definately did not want to say the wrong thing.
However Batgirl just hummed to her question and said, “I do not know. We have not broached the topic again. As you can imagine many of the Systems in our group called to kick us out for attempting it.” Marinette hissed at that, but Batgirl continued, "We were not though, enough of the others stood up for us. But in the end it was for naught. And after Scarecrow…it just seems fruitless. If we can split that easily again, then staying in Gotham while integrating is not feasible. There are too many triggers and stressors here. Daisy suggested that we move to Metropolis and try again, but we do not have the money to live sustainably there and still seek therapy. At least here in Gotham the Wayne provide professionals at all of their community centers for free.”
It was all spoken very practically and stoically, but Marinette felt the pang of it deep in her heart. She wanted nothing more than to help her friend in anyway she would let her. Besides Selina was about to come into some money, and MDC had quite the savings account. But Batgirl was a true Gothamite. They were made of steel, and they hated charity. They would either make it on their own or not at all. It was an attitude that was extraordinarily refreshing for Marinette when she first moved there. Especially after the entitlement and never-ending demands of her former “friends.” Still it couldn’t hurt to offer, but before she could Batgirl continued,
“But that is not what I wanted to talk with you about. You see, I need to get into contact with my active self.”
Marinette furrowed her brow. “Active self” was what Systems with a Bat or other hero identity called the real heroes and vigilantes they were modeled for. Marinette mostly ignored the other Systems when they said they stumbled on a conspiracy (detectives they were not). But Daisy/Batgirl/Marven knew who she was for a reason. That reason being, they had discovered Marinette’s connection with the Sirens after only three weeks of knowing her.
Out of everyone she knew from before and after Paris, Daisy/Batgirl/Marven were the only ones who had figured it out. Marinette had no doubt in her mind, that if they ever met the Waynes in person, they would see the truth immediately. That had not happened yet, and Marinette always listened to them when they said they had something, because they usually did. So, Marinette straightened up and said, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing urgent it’s just…the cult that’s in the basement of the building across the street from Daisy’s work. You remember them, right?”
“Yeah,” Marinette said shifting in her seat. She didn’t like cults. Too many lost Miraculous had fallen into the hands of narcissistic fools who decided to go on a power trip with their new power. It was not fun fighting them, because most of the time the people she was beating to pulp were innocent kids who were just lost and broken…like her. However, she did enjoy punching the leaders, before stealing the Miraculous. She said none of this to Batgirl of course. Instead, she opted for,
“Catwoman and I checked them out. They’re harmless. Well…not to the chickens, but for the most part they’re fine.”
“I know,” Batgirl said slowly, “But something is changing. Daisy saw some strange lights coming from their windows, and when I watched over her shoulder, I noticed that some of the members were behaving, for lack of a better word, antsy. Two even threw their robes at the leader and stormed off to the bar next door. I’m half tempted to stake out the other cults we know of to see if anything unusual is happening to them. But Daisy is working the night shift this week, so that would not be feasible.”
Marinette nodded thoughtfully before saying, “I’ll talk to Catwoman, see if she can get into contact with the Batman. And if he won’t look into it, we will. And you don’t do anything crazy! Let your active self and the rest of the Batclan handle things. You focus on yourself, and your system got it!”
“Of course, I am not a fool,” Batgirl said simply. “By the way, it is not like you to call out of the blue, even if you are in Gotham. Is something wrong?”
Marinette smiled softly and leaned back, “Nothing's wrong. Just a lot of memories have been surfacing lately. You know from when I was going through my identity crisis.”
“Are you not still going through an identity crisis?”
“Ha-ha,” Marinette said sardonically, “But yes, I suppose I am. It’s just…I know logically that the masks are me, and I am the masks, or whatever but…”
“You feel that they are too separate that even the attempt to reconcile them is akin to killing a part of yourself.”
“You see,” Marinette said letting some Lady Noire bleed in, “This is why I like you. You. You get me.”
“I know because it is the same for us,” Batgirl said simply. “It is the same for every System. You are different though. You have control over who you are, while we…we have to come to terms with the fact that we are many. Not just one. So I suppose the only question you have to ask yourself is…who are you Marinette?”
Marinette sighed deeply, “I have been trying to answer that question since I was thirteen years old. At this point…I think I’m too divided to even begin. My masks, my alter egos, they’re too contradictory. I don’t even know where to being consolidating them.”
“Well,” Batgirl said sardonically, “It’s not like they're completely different individuals that you are unaware of. And it’s not like you’re not currently living with a licensed psychologist…you do still stay with the Sirens when you’re in Gotham right?”
“Yes,” Marinette said fondly, “But I think Harley lost her license for obvious reasons.”
“Misogyny,” Batgirl declared, “If Crane can keep his license—”
“No,” Marinette said, “He lost his license too. I checked after our last debate.”
“Hm,” Batgirl sniffed, “Well I still claim misogyny. Oh, Daisy wants to front. Give me a moment.”
Marinette rolled her eyes and waited for the girls to switch. When they did, they continued to talk and even made plans for lunch the next day. They talked about Marinette’s travels, and her business. She never told them what she did as Lady Noire, or Ladybug, and they never asked. They talked about her plans for the wedding. They talked about everything and nothing, and Marinette felt a weight lift off her shoulders.
The fact was that ever since she had seen Alya at the engagement party, all of the old fears of inadequacy had lodged themselves like an arrow right between her shoulder blades. She remembered all of the work, all of the effort, all of the pain she had put into their friendship only for it to fall apart. Only for her to not be enough. But talking with Daisy…it was like she had never left Gotham. Daisy never made her earn her friendship. They were just as broken as her, and they understood and cared. And every time they met their friendship was effortless and free.
Marinette took a deep breath and sighed, content and completely, totally relaxed for the first time in days.  
-----------------------------------
Lila looked over at her latest toy. Derek Silvers was the eldest son of John Silvers of old money Gotham. They had kept that money through sound investments, real estate, and, of course, mob connections. The Silvers were too pompous and stupid for the Court of Owls, and Lila had wisely put them on her “sheep” list. But the son was handsome enough, so they became an integral part of her plans. All it had taken was a short dress with a low neckline and a bottle of wine, and the entire family was at her command.
She told the father she was only dating his son to get close to him. She told the son she was only teasing the father so that he wouldn’t try to keep them apart. Of course, she would never let that gross old Letcher touch her, and Mrs. Silvers was too muddled by pills to see her as any thing but, “A sweet young girl, who will do her son some good.” In the end, it was almost too easy to have the entire family bowing to her every whim. Surrendering the best room in the house to her and her “Deri” and showing her off at all of the premiere parties, where rich fool after rich fool fell into her clutches. Her bank account had never been fuller.
She sat up in her bed and rolled her neck before grabbing her robe. She stood in the window and let the fool moon bath her in its cool light as she stretched in contentment. She was growing stronger. Stronger than she had ever been before. She had thought that Paris had been her peak. With almost the entire city clouded and deluded by the fear of Hawkmoth, she had weaved her webs to near perfection, and everyone had bowed to her. But now…Now she played with the growing consciousness in her mind. It was like a balloon, slowly inflating to give her strength.
Perhaps, she thought with a laugh, I’ll soon be powerful enough to sway even Little Miss Perfect, Marinette.
“Oh, I doubt that.” The new voice was low, chilling to the bone, and inhumane in its tone and power. It had Lila snapping her eyes wide, but she dared not turn around. But there, right behind her in the window’s reflection stood a man. He was tall, dark, and Lila had always thought he was the most handsome man she had ever seen. Everything about him was perfect, except for his eyes. His eyes, which had the shape of a goats, and were glowing blood red. He terrified her, he always had. And yet, it was impossible for her not to desire him above every other man she had ever been with. And that scared her even more.
“And why not?” Lila finally said, her mouth was dry, but she hid it well. “I grow stronger every day. And with you supporting me how can I fail?”
“Because my dear,” the demon said with an amused smile, “Your adversary wields the very forces of Nature. Lies are the antithesis of Nature. She will always be stronger than you.”
Lila shifted in an attempt to loosen her stiffening muscles. She stifled the seething anger that was threatening to burn away all of her common sense. The creature behind her might have been her ally since she had begun her work, but that didn’t mean she could expose herself to him any more than she could her employers. He only respected power, and Lila would give him power, that was their deal. Speaking off their deal…
“If that is the case, then I suppose you are incapable of holding up your side of our contract.”
“Oh?” The demon said and Lila felt a hand begin to stroke her arm. She tensed and shivered under the touch as she felt his talons gently scratch her bare skin. It was both tender and threatening. A reminder that in this relationship she was not the predator, she was the prey.
“If I recall the terms,” he said smirking at her reflection, “My job is to hold people to your contract in exchange for their souls. I offered to bolster your power, but you refused that offer.”
Lila’s heart was pounding out of her chest. She didn’t know if it was out of fear or desire, but she figured those were the same thing to this creature. But she refused to show either of those things to him. She would not show weakness that’s what he wanted. “I prefer to keep my soul thank you very much. But as I recall, our deal was that you would give me everything within the world. And then I would give you the world. How can I do that if I cannot bend Marinette to my will?”
“Do not play semantics with me girl,” the demon growled in her ear as knife like talons dug into her arms and made her gasp. “I always keep my side; it is you humans who try to cheat. Understand?”
“Yes,” Lila whimpered.
“Yes what?”
“Yes Lord,” Lila said, and it was only when he released her that she felt the shame and anger at her weakness, at showing him her fear, and her desire. But he did not address either. Instead, he went back to soothingly stroking her arm, with the amused smirk still watching her in the window.
“Good,” he said in his deep inhuman tone. “Now understand that the Grand Guardian of the Miraculous is not a simple mortal. There are laws. Ancient powers and creeds that restrict both my movement against them and theirs against me. If our plan is to succeed, then you will have to defeat her…try finding where she keeps the Miraculous. My guess is at the Temple, but you never know. She has already overthrown many traditions simply by being a woman. It is something to consider.”
“Yes Lord,” Lila said forcing her usual controlled tone.
“Now tell me,” the demon said almost casually, “How long do you plan to keep this welp? He can’t be more than a puppy. I doubt he satisfies you.”
“He serves his purpose,” Lila said coldly. “He doesn’t need to be any more than that.”
“Hmm,” the demon said, and this time he gripped her arms gently, “You really should consider selling me your soul. It would make our plans far easier. Besides you can’t really think you’re going to Heaven after all of this! Don’t you think it’s better to have your future afterlife secured? With me?”
“I will never be a slave,” Lila said with a fire that was always just lurking under her surface. A fire she had had since…no she didn’t think about when she had gained the fire.
The demon seemed far more amused by this than anything she had said yet because he gave a low chuckle that sent shivers down her spine and said, “No, you’re just the slaver.”
Lila spun around; mouth open to shout. But there was no one there. Suddenly her growing power and the moonlight were no longer nearly as satisfying as they had been a few minutes ago. With a scowl strong enough to curdle milk, she climbed back into bed and woke her toy. But he was not nearly as satisfying as he had been earlier that night. It only made her angrier as a heavy weight settled on her shoulders. 
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femmefatalevibe · 11 months
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hello! I love your blog and read your posts religiously. Your mature, compassionate and rational responses are always very encouraging and uplifting, and I wonder if you have any older sister advice, to a problem I face too often for my liking.
I really hate how many unwarranted, negative or passive-aggressive comments or digs I keep receiving from many of my coursemates; I routinely hear stuff like “your hair is soo fried”, “i didn’t know you were smart”, or “you’re rich and out of touch”, and it’s quite hurtful and totally untrue. I’m a very social person, and I take care of my appearance, so people like to stereotype me as pretty with no brains, even if i’m one of the best students in our course. I’m also as middle class as it gets, so pegging me as a delusional rich kid because I own a few nice things, is a big generalization. While I understand that a pretty girl who doesn’t speak poorly of herself might attract some attention, I always strive to be kind and uplifting, especially to the girls in my course. So to receive most of the mean comments from them, when we have no beef going on, is upsetting. I take pride in my academic achievements and the work I put in myself, so petty remarks don’t destroy my confidence, but it’s definitely painful! I talked about it with my therapist, and she suggested that it likely has more to do with them than it does with me; something along the lines of jealousy, or misplaced projection.
I also recently moved from another country, and have difficulty making friends, as the people here are typically northern, and very closed off and introverted (compared to loud and colorful Italians). So while in regular conditions I’d brush this off, now it just contributes to the overall feeling of rejection.
If you have made it this far, and have any advice on how to deal with unnecessarily mean behavior, without losing your spark, I’d greatly appreciate it! Thank you, and have a great day!! 🩷
Hi love! Thank you for your kind words and support. Means so much to me that this blog is a great resource for you <3
It sounds like you're doing great during your schooling years! Moving to a new country and switching schools (especially when you know no one) are difficult transitions. You seem to have a lot of resilience and a great work ethic & self-esteem. I agree with your therapist on this one – it's a them problem, not a you problem. Teenage girls can be cruel because we're all insecure and unsure about our decisions/how they will affect our life trajectories on some level (source: a former teenage girl).
Always remember: Other people's projections are a reflection of their personal circumstances combined with a lack of self-awareness and introspection.
The best approach to this situation, in my opinion, is to focus on your goals, how to make yourself feel happy & content with yourself (working towards your academic goals, indulging in your hobbies, prioritizing your health, self-care, etc.), and finding activities/clubs/interest groups where you can meet like-minded people. The more you like yourself, the more others will respect you, which either leaves you comfortable with yourself or comfortable with yourself alongside supporters of your success.
With that being said, learn their social norms, and study how they interact/their communication style. Mastering the art of communicating your uniqueness in a way that's culturally palatable can make a world of difference when it comes to integrating socially in a new community or country.
Focus on the aspects of your life that are in your control. Learn to let the rest go. A support system, especially during your school years, can come in many forms – from mentors, online social support, and activities outside of your academic chambers.
Hope this helps xx
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mortifiedatbeingknown · 8 months
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"The Gentle Giant" (Pt. 15)
Masterpost:
The hardest thing she’d ever had to do was pretend not to notice. 
Thankfully, there was only his back left, and with that she could strategically shift herself so that neither was looking at the other. Her giant was in a very fragile place right now, and she hoped the privacy would make him more comfortable. 
“I’m almost done,” She assured, keeping her voice steady, trying to make it sound like all of her previous comments. She didn’t want to ruin this. She didn’t want to send him spiraling back, with even something as small as a misplaced word or a wayward tone. For the remainder of the bath, she hesitated to blink too forcefully, and it wasn’t until she had finished patting him dry with a towel that she even remembered to breathe. 
“There.” 
Her giant gave no response. She wondered if he had regained his composure, but as she went to face him, the tears still ran silently. Before she could stop herself, she reached up and wiped them away. 
“It’s alright.” She heard herself say. “It’s alright. You did wonderfully.” 
She left the towel behind, as well as another tub of fresh water, so that he could wash his more private areas alone. When she made her daily plea for him to join her and enter the house, his hand trembled within her own. 
The giant’s resolve was starting to crack. 
It seemed wrong to feel happy about this development. Her giant was in pain. The first emotion large enough to break through his shell… was sadness. He was very clearly hurting, and she had no idea how to help. She already knew that her very presence was a source of stress for him. Not much had changed on that front. 
But still! He was crying! For the first time since she’d spotted him, she had finally caught a glimpse of what he was feeling. It was the first major step in his recovery. Was that not a reason to smile? Was that not a reason to celebrate? 
Even so, she kept the joy to herself. Tears were normal, tears were healthy, and she wanted her giant to know that. First and foremost, she wanted him to feel safe. Just to make sure he recovered peacefully, she left him alone for the rest of the afternoon. 
Which only made it more surprising when she arrived with his dinner in tow, only to find him quivering on the floor. 
******************************
The floor pressed against his forehead. Its dusty smell tickled his nose, making breathing difficult. That was alright. He deserved it. All of it. 
How could he have ever…? 
His hands lifted to the sky when he heard Mistress come in, begging Begging for discipline, begging for correction. I wish to be better, was his silent plea. 
Fix me. 
Mold me. 
Reforge me. 
Until every imperfection was beaten out, until he was left new and obedient and well-controlled and good. Until he truly could be called “gentle”, for there was nothing aggressive or unpredictable about his behavior. 
Teach me. 
Teach me to be better. 
"W-what's the matter?" Mistress asked, carefully approaching him. "Are you hurt?" 
He closed his eyes as she tapped him on the shoulder. "Hello?" 
I do not think. I do not feel… 
There was a sigh as Mistress sat down, her weight shifting onto the cold, concrete floor. "Listen… I know you don't like to move, but I need to know. Is this about what happened this morning? You can nod or shake your head." 
So she knew. The confirmation made him shiver. 
"Oh no, sweetheart, it's alright! You're not not in trouble!" 
Then he should be. Didn't she see that? 
No. Her hands only ran through his hair, tucking the stray strands behind his ears. "I'm very proud of you, you know." She said quietly. "I know this isn't easy for you. But we can take it as slow as you want. There's no rush." 
But a rush for what? What did she want? He was already trying to be as good as possible. Was it not enough? He listened anxiously for her next words. 
“But…could you at least sit up, please? You look very uncomfortable.” 
He didn’t want to. If he did, she’d see his face, dirty and streaked with his shame. But if she already knew, then what did it matter? He’d already disobeyed so much. 
Perhaps he wasn’t even worthy of punishment anymore. 
He unfurled slowly, one finger at a time. No sudden movements. No jerks or twitches. First his hands brushed the floor, Then his back arched, and his neck lifted, inch by inch until he was once again kneeling, calm and sweet and submissive, with his eyes staring blankly forward. 
“Thank you.” She said, once again reaching out to brush away the tears. “I’ve bothered you a lot today, haven’t I? I’m sorry.” 
She paused, as if giving him time to respond. She always did that, even though he had nothing to say. 
“I guess… I just don’t want you to stress yourself out. You can cry, or laugh, or smile as much as you want here, OK? O-or if you want, you don’t have to give anything at all. It’s just…nothing’s forced, you know? At least I’m trying for it not to be.” 
She bit her lip and looked him over with those strange, intense eyes. “S-sorry. I forgot about your dinner, didn’t I? …Here. I’ll go get it.” 
And she practically ran, as if aching to get away from him.  
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So I was watching what we do in shadows recently, and all I could think about is your gathered night plot, and then went “but what if those four had to share a flat one way or another? And had a crew come over?”
And I came up with one particular scenario.
Cameraman: so, Mr. Harker. What’s it like sharing a home with three other vampires?
Johnny: this place can hardly be considered my home. *He pauses* I suppose Louis and I have certain….things in common. The other two? Well…it gets….loud
*camera cuts to Lestat and Dracula screaming at each other over who stole Who’s cosmetics, saved bottles of blood, and who takes too much time in the shower*
*cuts back to Johnny*
Johnny: ….very loud
I still have to watch WWDITS, but Oh. My. God. @grimgrinningghosts456. I love this. Sign me tf up.
If I ever do an alternative version of The Gathered Night, this gotta be in it. Maybe a few more hypotheticals:
Jonathan would be exhausted because Vlad and Les keep fighting over who's turn it is with the piano. As a compromise, both settle on blaring rock songs from their stereo instead. At the same time. Through the whole house. Say hello to a constant migraine.
Louis would be constantly annoyed, having to redo and tidy up after minor little slip ups of Jonathan. A misplaced book, an unmade bed, a stolen tie. Just take the trash out now, for heaven's sake.
Les takes the longest in the bathroom and doesn't understand the chore plan. Or rather, refuses to. Aggressively. Dramatically.
Vlad... Is just Vlad I guess. A bastard, like always. Probably the one who stole Louis' cufflinks.
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