#ive always been on the edge of fandoms

[just-a-mod]

ya'll maybe dont know how much fun im having with the 'spicy boris series'

ive been on this hellsite for a long time, and it was only in the most recent of years that i got fast enough and had the right enough tools (for me) to be able to draw and animate like this

i feel like an old dog who has gotten a bunch of puppies who want to play ball with me and i am enjoying it so damn much

#justatext #justapost #ive always been on the edge of fandoms #or the fandoms die out before i could get very good at what i was doing #so the fact my doodles and sketches are making people feral brings me genuine joy #ijoined tumblr when ask blogs and stuff like that were like REALLY hype and popular #i had a few tbh #like...three? #but they never got very popular cuz i didn't know the play of teh game back then #and tbh it's not bad i didn't lol #i just always wanted to be able to do asks like these #it brings me joy

[vetustamorla]

still in my first week for writing for a big fandom and it all the hits and feedback just make me feel like???? wtf i could’ve been doing this all this time???? turns out the universal ao3 writing experience is not just getting one or two “you got kudos!” emails a month

#it's not my fault tho that all my ideas are so niche it's your faults #but it's a double-edged sword still like #i know it won't be worth my time to write the stuff i wanna write #so the accidental foursome oneshot ive been thinking abt writing #while watching 5 seasons of a show i wont name #wont happen!!!!! bc not a single soul cares literally #the tag is 0. empty. null. nothing #but still me and my niches will always keep happening #it's just funny to be in a situation now where i actually feel seen #weird too but like. gah #love full of fire is already my 2nd most read fic of all time #and it hasnt even been a week #it makes me feel sad for these smaller fandoms #cuz the ppl writing in them really dont as much recognition as they deserve #tldr: leave your writer comments if its a small fandom or a big fandom just do it

[polteergeistt]

i feel like this is a safe space for me to say i have been drooling about the broken sticks since that motherfucker posted those bc like... he must know what it does to us.... right....? rIGHT????!!!!! also now i wonder which song was that, i've been in the fandom a short while now but i think someone would have pointed it out if he broke sticks live, he always looks so calm and collected in concertsss i cANNOT TAKE IT mr II i beg you tell me what got you so worked uppppp

Oh I know what happened.

He is very calm and collected on stage. However, during rehearsals, when his boys are not restricted by the eyes of the crowd, sometimes, well... accidents happen.

Horny below.

First of all, Vessel likes to mess around with his voice and to make some noises here and there. For some reason, he decided that he might work on moans and whimpers that one time. He plays with sharp inhales and exhales, breathy moans at the end of the words, and lets out a few unholy sounds when he feels like it.

Then there is IV with his bubble butt and thiccc thighs, strutting around the room with his brand new gorgeous guitar like a model or a stripper. II can't always tell the difference. He walks around, does a few dance steps and keeps going. He also trains himself to show his throat well and he tests how far he can push his fingers through his mask. A lot of teasing, usually to get the crowd on fire, but if there is no crowd to rile up, he has to tease someone else, doesn't he ?

And as for III... I mean look at him. He is drop dead gorgeous and a brat. II's ultimate weakness. The bassist can't help but mess around and do weird things and sometimes these weird things turn out to be very arousing. Also he does this thing where he just folds and kinda headbangs. He is basically presenting his ass to him. And his hair looks awfully good to pull on.

Or, shorter answer, someone was edging him while he was playing. And that someone would be me.

This post of the broken drumsticks is mainly a warning for those who made him break them, but he just couldn't help but be proud.

#sleep token #sleep token band #sleep token vessel #sleep token iii #sleep token iv #sleep token ii #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token smut #polteergeistt ask

[jeysbvck]

seven (not really) sentence sunday!

tagged by @sznofthesticks thank u bff 🧡

from an adrian chase wip ive had in my docs for years (okay so it was for a different fandom & i changed it to adrian)

***

“Oh yeah, she's definitely not fine.” Adrian commented. “When were you gonna mention you'd been stabbed?”

"When was the right time? When we were fighting off those men, or maybe when I was hanging off the edge?!" You fired back. Your breathing was jagged now, the deep, searing pain was taking over, like a parasite burrowing inside you.

"Maybe instead of arguing with Adrian, you could have mentioned it." Leota piped up through the earpiece. You opened your mouth to respond, but instead, you let out a piercing scream, doubling over in agony, clutching at your stomach.

"Fuck, okay guys, you gotta come get us right now. I swear if she dies on me, she always said she'd make it look like I did it and -"

Adrians voice was distorted. It sounded like an old vinyl being played in slow motion. You had absolutely no idea how you were still on your feet, truthfully. You took deep breaths and looked up at Adrian, but you couldn't make out his features. He was just one large blur.

"Adrian, I'm fine." You repeated. You blinked a couple of times, an attempt to restore your vision.

"You don't look fine." Adrian said. "Actually, you look like you're about to faint."

"Mhmm, I think you're gonna want to catch me."

no pressure tags; @afterdarkprincess @harmshake @maplefire18 @crxssjae 💙

#shan shouts into the void #tag game #seven sentence sunday #wip game #adrian chase fic #vigilante fic #adrian chase x you #vigilante x you #adrian chase x reader #vigilante x reader

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 11

welcome the the eleventh fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.  

1. Video Chats by @tomminowrites

Not long after leaving to join the Blades, Keith stops by the castleship to catch up with Voltron.

The visit was going normally, until the Red paladin lets slip that he's been video calling one of the paladins fairly regularly - unknown to rest of the team.

i LOVE this fic it makes me giggle like no other. i have this in my other collection, which is fics where lance gets teased mercilessly by the team for being a gay loser. this fic makes me laugh literally every time. fics where keith is doing his blade thing but comes back regularly to visit and theyre a family who loves each other my beloved

2.  Thinkin’ Bout You by @bleusarcelle & queerklancing

‘That was not my thought,’ Keith thinks, panic and confusion filling his chest, ‘That was not my thought, what the fu –‘

‘Dude,’ the unfamiliar voice cuts him off sharply, but Keith can hear the edge of fear lingering on its tone, ‘Dude, what the fuck –Get out!’

‘It’s my head, you get out! ’

‘No, it’s mine!’

Keith purses his lips and pokes his temple and then his cheek.

‘No, pretty sure it’s my body, my mind, and you’re a weird thing invading it.’

[Or that time Keith had a voice in his head singing and found out he had a quite unique soulmate link.]

early voltron fics my love. remembering fondly the days bleusarcelle and queerklancing dominated the klance tag lmfao. this one is sweet, fun, and it has the trope of all time in it: the phone call where someone sighs wistfully and says ‘i miss you’ and then the other person smiles and goes ‘look behind you, sweetheart’ and theyre THERE. gets me every time fr

3. so tell me darling do you wish we fall in love? by crystalklances/orphan_account

Keith is chosen to represent the Paladins for a diplomatic dinner gala. There's just one problem—he has to bring a spouse. Lucky for him, Lance is ready to play his fake fiancé.

i’ll tell you i was CRUSHED when crystalklances orphaned his account. dude i miss u every day. but thank god all his fics are still available! this one is one of my faves he ever wrote bc it has fake/pretend relationship with good communication somehow. truly art.

4. Like A Prayer by @lancesexual /orphan_account [EXLPLICIT]

"God, I'm so happy with you," Lance whispered.

Something dangerous and soft erupted in Keith's chest, threatening to consume him.

2016 FIC ELITENESS. fuck man. im so serious when i say 2016 immediately means the fic has twenty bonus points. love love love. this is soft and sweet and floundering. i love it when both of them arent sure about anything but each other

5. True Love or Something by @deerstalkerdeathfrisbee

“So that was…” “If you say painless I’m shoving you into another snowdrift.” “Okay, that’s fair. But you got a lollipop!” “That you stole from pediatrics.” “I’m a very good date.”

Lance accidentally crashes into his new neighbor in front of their mailboxes and somehow ends the night with a very attractive (and slightly concussed) date.

ive saved the best for last! i started reading this when i was a young teen (more 2016 love) and it updated steadily for years. this series redefined what love means to me. i will always have the characters in the back of my head, i will always love everything about this series and story and will hold every part of it so dear to my heart. if you have to read one series in the fandom, this one should be a top contender!

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!  

#true love or something is truly something i love #love love love love #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #klance #fic rec #fic rec friday #trans lance #team as family #longpost #pining keith #pining lance #soft klance

[formula-fun]

Hi!!!!!!

So happy that you have found time to write again!

By now I have reread the story too many times so I have been trying to “force” your two amazing stories on my best friend in hopes of finding someone to scream together (I have successfully dragged her across most of the fandoms I have dabbled in) and she was very excited when I explained the plot and showed her my too-long asks on your tumblr to her 🤣

Of course she would love them as much as I do, and she would be running out of excuses for wips (hahahaha) when it looks like the final chapters might be happening!

Very very excited! Thank you so much for taking the time to write! 😘

Hey hey!!!

Aww thanks so much!! I know its not for everyone and wips sometimes arent everyones cup of tea either but i hope she likes it if she gives it a try!! ive had the wildest month in the world so im only now starting to clean them up, but really hoping to have them up soon before school gets crazy again <3

leaving a snippet here for you since i love it so so much but am unfortunately about to cut it!

In Brazil Max doesn’t even bother pretending he wants to use his own hotel room. Charles has only been settled for fifteen minutes when a polite knock rings through the room, and when he opens the door it’s to the sight of Max standing in front of it, tapping away on his phone, his backpack slung precariously over the handle of the suitcase resting beside him.

“Is the WiFi working for you?” he asks in lieu of a greeting, wandering past Charles when Charles steps aside.

“I don’t know,” Charles says, amused. “I just got here.”

“Oh. Same.” He flops backward onto the bed, his knees hanging over the edge, not looking up when his suitcase finally overbalances and falls to the floor with a clatter. He drops his phone somewhere over his head, stretching his arms until they shake. He looks lazy and content, easy with the way he’s made a place for himself in Charles’ space, like he knows he’s always welcome. Charles wants to get on the bed and crawl toward him, one palm on his sternum, and see what his mouth feels like against Charles’ upside down.

He swallows hard.

“Do you want to order room service?” Max asks him.

They have places to be. Charles is pretty sure they do, anyway. They always do. He and Max have been apart for barely ten hours. It’s not long enough to miss someone; not at all.

He lets Max pick up the menu and narrate it aloud to him, halfheartedly debating each item while Charles systematically empties his suitcase across the entirety of the room. Max finally toes his shoes off and slides backward to sit against the headboard, picking up the phone and fiddling with the cord as he orders them a ninety dollar pizza and a seventy dollar fruit tray and a fifteen dollar bottle of sparkling water, and then mumbles something about putting it on his room’s tab instead of Charles’, even though their teams foot the bills anyway. As soon as the phone thunks down into the cradle Charles drops the shirt he was pretending to fold and turns to crawl onto the bed and curl into Max’s side.  

Max’s hand settles on his waist, heavy and warm. “They said fifteen minutes,” Max tells him. His eyes are wide and soft.

Charles shakes his head. “That’s fine,” he answers. His chest feels too big—too full. Max is looking at him with a gentle kind of happiness, and when Charles thinks about him seeking Charles out and living in his space he feels too much. He doesn’t know what to do with it all.

He cups his face and kisses him in greeting, finally—means to keep it short and sweet, but Max pulls him closer immediately. It’s stupid; it shouldn’t feel the way it does, when they’ve barely been apart a day. It doesn’t matter.

He relaxes into Max’s hold a little too much, half-sprawled across his lap and unbalanced because of it. Max just rolls them until they’re laying sideways, their heads at the foot of the bed, kissing lazily all the while. Time turns soft and elastic, everything else drifting away, Charles caught somewhere in all the things they’re pressing against each other’s lips: hello’s and how are you’s and I missed you’s and I love you’s.

When a woman comes with the room service cart Charles has to get up and let her in with wobbly legs, his lips tingling. He winces behind her back when he registers her alpha scent as she passes him, a stark contrast to the happy tangle of Charles and Max’s scents that’s taken all of half an hour to permeate the room. There’s no way she doesn’t notice it, but she doesn’t say a word. Max gives her a bashful red-lipped smile and a tip that’s double the cost of their food, and Charles resists the urge to put his face in his hands.

#if i had words #if anyone saw me posting anonymously on ao3 in the last few weeks? look away #busy means too busy to work on the 68000 word project #it doesnt mean too busy to dick around on anon #lestappen #writing tag

[mangofresca]

v. album

Scientific name: Veratrum album Family: Melanthiaceae Kingdom: Plantae Veratrum plants contain highly toxic steroidal alkaloids—all parts of these plants are poisonous, with the roots and rhizomes being the most poisonous. If ingested, symptoms include abdominal pain, numbness, headache, sweating, muscle weakness, bradycardia, hypotension, and seizures. Deidara always was very good at putting on a show. Part 4 of mithridatism, Sasodei.

Words: 4,095, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Naruto

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Relationships: Deidara/Sasori (Naruto)

Additional Tags: Dom/sub, Control, Poison Play, Submission, Pain Kink, Blood Play, Knife Play, Edging, Power Dynamics, Sensory Deprivation, Porn with Feelings, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, been a while since ive posted sasodei hows everyone doin, deidara is so pretentious it hurts. like he’s obnoxious with it, no beta we die like. well like sasodei tbh, sasodeiweek, sasodeiweek2024

My entry for sasodei week for the prompt of obsession/possession, because fuck it why not. i havent posted in this series in a while so uhhhhh yeah enjoy jhghjhg

#sasori #deidara #sasodei #sasodeiweek #sasodeiweek2024 #naruto #naruto fanfiction #ao3 fic

[timeofjuly]

Hello! Ive recently started reading your work and its soooo good! Falling back into my undertale fixation since elementary lmaooo. I was wondering if you have any hcs based on the 3rd chapter when Quinn asked mc if they were in a relationship but what if they were 😳 like for a month now or just seeing someone. What would be the game changer or will she let it go? Im just rlly interested and loveee a jealous moment tbh 🤧 (quinn always number one in my heart though)

Thank you so much, I’m so happy that you’re enjoying! I also have randomly found myself back in the fandom after years, but it’s been really fun!

I can do you one better than headcanons – I love this idea and I love pining, jealous Quinn (I am also procrastinating finishing an assignment but shhhhh), so here’s a little ficlet 😊

truths that bleed through the universes

“What about you? Are you seeing anyone?” Quinn asks. She’s afraid to ask the question; a preexisting partner would be the ultimate complication.

At the question, your face brightens, a smile rising to your lips. It’s not the sad expression of before, all downcast eyes and a furrow between your brows. This smile is her favourite, one that she’d once seen daily, a smile that makes you seem as though you’re almost taken aback by your own delight. Quinn wants to make a home in the warm depths of it, burrow so deep into the happiness that you’ll both lose track of where she ends and you begin.

“Well,” you say, and that sunshine is in your voice, too, each word tinged with gold. “I was single for ages, but I actually met someone just over a month ago, and we’ve been seeing each other since.”

“Oh, nice!’ she says and god, she hopes she doesn’t sound as crushed as she feels. Her mind scrabbles for purchase against the jagged edges of the dismay that fossilises in her chest. “What’s their name?”

“Seraphine. Hang on, I’ll show you a picture,” you say, reaching into your tote bag. “You’d really like her. She lives in the apartment below mine. We met because Steven’s a fucking Houdini and managed to escape from my balcony down onto hers, it’s a really cute story. She reckons that Steven’s our cat-cupid. Oh, here you go-.”

Quinn accepts your phone. On the screen – it’s your fucking lock screen, shit -there’s a photo of you and a monster woman, grinning into the camera. It’s a selfie-style picture and the woman’s cheek, a vivid royal purple covered in fine, downy fluff, is pressed to yours, smooshing your smile into an adorable, fishy pout.

“Cute,” she says weakly. “A month, huh?’

“Yep. We’re taking it slow, but I’m not seeing anyone else, and I don’t think she is either. I’ve even deleted Tinder off of my phone.” The words are said with raised eyebrows and enough seriousness for her to realise that that’s apparently a big deal.

Something ugly sits on her tongue and she’s self-aware enough to name it jealousy. The irrationality and unfairness of it – she has no leg to stand on, since she’s in a relationship with eight other people – doesn’t make the feeling any less potent. It writhes in her, a living creature, filthy and starved and pacing the length of its cage, gnawing at the bars.

Does she make you feel as good as I can? Does she know you like I know you? There’s nobody who can love you like I can love you. I know you agree. You agree, right? I know you’ve been chasing my shadow for five years, just like I used to chase yours. We’re both a little wrong without the other.

Quinn takes a deep breath and fixes a smile to her face, cooing appropriately when you begin telling her the story of Steven’s jaunt to the downstairs balcony. This is a setback, yes, but all isn’t lost. She really does think that you’re at your happiest when you’re with her, and you’ve always agreed. Reminding you of that might be tricky, but it won’t be impossible, and once you remember? This girlfriend will just be another notch in your bedpost. Countless people have made their mark on your past, a blur of friends and enemies and lovers, and she’s fine with that, because all of that lived experience is what makes you you.

But your present? Your future? That’s all hers, just like hers is yours, if you want it. She’ll give it time, show you how good it feels to with her datemates and remind you how well you fit with her, and let you make up your own mind. Let you choose.

If there’s one thing that all of the dimension fuckery she’s been exposed to has taught her, it’s that some things are universal truths. Every Sans has a Papyrus. The humans trapped monsters Underground. The sky is blue. The grass is green. These are principles that permeate everything, bleeding through whatever separates each universe.

This is another one of those truths. There is no universe where Quinn Lawson isn’t in love with her version of you, or a universe where you aren’t in love with your Quinn Lawson. You always choose each other, in the end.

Quinn’s already made her choice. She just has to wait for you to make yours.

#RTC asks #quinn/reader #quinn lawson #the electrician #resisting the current #thank you so much for this ask! I had so much fun writing this #parallel circuits

[atthebell]

no I feel you so much with the AU thing. ships I like becoming popular is always a double-edged sword to me because on one hand yayy more content in the ao3 tag! but on the other hand Curse Of One Million OOC AUs and it's like. Okay. people can do what they want. whatever. but also like. does their canon dynamic and history and everything not fascinate you. why are you turning them into cookie cutter yaoi. who are these characters. yk

(ofc there are exceptions to this and I've seen and read good AUs too! but they're rare in comparison sadly)

yeahhh it's just really tiring when at the end of the day it's not what i want, even if others are having fun. honestly that's why i've been writing so much spiderbit stuff like i love fluff i love characters going to sleep, sleep soup and like. idk some other s word are my signatures in fics but also bc there's so little in-canon spiderbit stuff and i want there to be more. ive written like five reunion fics bc ive only seen like two other people do them! i'm writing a million specific era ones bc i love those moments so much and i wish there was more fanworks about them, which i guess is how fandom always works (you get so annoyed with a hole in the fandom that you have to fill it) but it's like i have a life i can't be doing all this!!!! but yeah back to your original point it's just unfortunate bc it feels like people care more about inserting the characters into whatever aus they want to make regardless of the fit and they don't really engage with canon at all. like the amount of qsmp fans who do not actually like. watch any streams or videos is actually insane i'm like fuck no wonder no one can write dialogue

#asks #echotunes #discourse

[batzcrazy]

pegging (that's it)

note: so ive kinda kept you guys hanging for an absurd amount of time and tbh ive always felt guilty about it but im hoping now that i have more time, i can push stuff out more often. im bouncing around different fandoms quite often so its really hard to write just one thing at once but i am trying my best! anyway this was just a thought i discussed with friends and it evolved into this. enjoy!

MINORS DNI!!! you know the drill go do your homework

- proud jay todd brat truther

- anyway i want to edge him more than anything . would sell my soul probably

- just think . he's a little cocky at first because he can typically hold his shit together eezee

- anyway he overestimates his will LMFAO

- you'll have him on the verge and he'll forget he's not supposed to cum and he'll be so confused

- but then he'll pout real pretty

- "ah, sweetheart c'mon... don't tease"

- so imagine having him squirming, and whining, and nearly sobbing in minutes

- and holy shit he's leaking so much and he's unsure of how long it's been but he knows you're being unfair

- so he might decide to cum anyway

- "sorry, you were being so mean i couldn't help myself"

- shoots you a cheeky little smirk

- he's not . sorry at all really but he will be dw

- remind him to relax before you start ...he will be tense but not in purpose

- upon entry (haha) he's throwing his head back and making soft noises

- after this point he's Gone

- he's still apologizing, so you hush him because despite being a bit of a brat, he's so sweet :(

He's shuddering now, asking you to move so politely and tbh all it takes is a little praise to get him to settle.

- There's a light sheen of sweat on his forehead and upper body. His lips are so kiss swollen and his pupils are blown wide.

- he's growing more desperate now ... needier in the way his hips grind back into yours

- very much wanting to hold your hands if they aren't busy

- his hair is a mess btw . mix of him tugging it and you pulling it (jason todd hair pulling...)

- "im gonna, fuck, i think im gonna cum," he swallows hard, eyes wide as he gazes up at you (pretty, pretty)

- he gnaws on his bottom lip and releases, "can i? please? please?"

- he's earned it and he knows that, but he needs the approval and the longer you go without answering, the more he's asking permission

- his voice is gone, big tears pool in his eyes and he's whispering so sweetly please baby please, need it, 'm so sorry

- how could you deny him?

-cums so much while thanking you mindlessly

-his brain is blank! poor guy :(

- hold him so close after ,, give him a little reassurance and clean him up ,, lots of kisses

- OR !!!! OR!!! alternatively, he just can't take it anymore and cums without you touching him/ right after you pull away

- he's murmuring apologies and he's hoping youll be merciful but he didn't get permission so ❤️

#this is very all over the place but welcome to my brain #i enjoy ... the thought of making jason make noises he never thought were possible for him #i don't think hed be very into degradation. maybe lightly but i just think it would make him force him into a dark headspace #and thats no good #so praise is where its at loves #hes so precious to me ... maybe this will finally motivate me to finish that fic ive been kinda working on #sigh . all i do is lie huh #dc #dc comics #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x gender neutral reader #dc jason todd #my writing

[prfctparis]

I’d Give You My Lungs So You Can Breathe (I’ve Got You, Brother) [CH2]

AO3 Link / Ch1 / Next / Masterlist

summary:

Danny Fenton was adopted at age ten, with little to no memories about his former family. At age fourteen, he died yet lived and those memories began to return. He didn’t do anything about those memories – didn’t plan to, at least not yet – but then he got captured by the GIW, saved by his friends and someone who might be his sister who he only somewhat remembered, and taken to Gotham to, apparently, his biological father for safety until further notice.

Team Phantom was there, too, and they did not sign up for this family drama.

a/n:

here’s chapter 2!! ch3 will be up in a few days :)

warnings for entire fic:

canon-typical violence of the DC variety; angst; memory loss/repressed memories; do i need to say major character death(s) or is that just a given for this fandom; questionable parenting tho every parent is trying to do good & care for the kids; implied/referenced past child abuse bc of the child assassin backgrounds; pls tell me if i missed something

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: mentioned/implied vivisection, but i don’t go into detail; athanasia mercilessly kills so many people; violence; blood; i think that’s it?

CHAPTER TWO —

When the first appearances of the Guys in White were seen back in October, Danny had no idea it would lead to this—

Locked to a metal table with scientists surrounding him and two assassins on guard at the door.

That was really all he was aware of. Everything else? Only pain. A dull burning pain that went throughout his entire body, and the cause was the IV attached to his arm. The contents were unknown, but Danny knew some percent of it was made out of blood blossoms – just enough that it didn’t kill him; just enough that it rendered him useless against them.

A metal mask covered his mouth and nose. It kept him from speaking, or biting, or screaming.

There were one or two other things that did something… Danny didn’t remember. It’s all been so fuzzy lately. It made something in the back of his mind panic.

More pain washed through him. It was worse this time, like it always was. Each day hurt a little more. Each day he got a little weaker.

What were they doing to him?

Danny squeezed his eyes shut. He breathed through it the best he could.

His chest ached, as if there was an open wound.

He peeled opened his eyes.

Oh. Right. That’s what they were doing to him.

Vivisection…again.

Lovely.

He distantly heard the door open. The scientists began to speak; a conversation started above him that wasn’t about his guts, for once. He did his best to focus on listening to them.

“…ill haven’t found the ghost’s core…” one said. “There is a high chance he won’t survive another operation after this one.”

“As long as he survives this one,” a different voice said.

And it was…familiar? Why–

A hand touched his hair. He flinched involuntarily, eyes rapidly blinking. When his vision focused and he trailed his eyes upward, fear gripped him instantly.

“I want the pleasure of killing you for good, Phantom,” the face from his nightmares spoke. “Or should I say,” the grip on his hair tightened and the man sneered, “Dányál.”

+++

Voices filtered through the vent grate from the room they were over. Three people were at the console; in front of them, multiple screens showing the security camera’s feeds played before the operatives’ eyes. A few of them were loops, curtesy of Tucker Foley and his way with technology.

Two more people were in the security room, as well, but they didn’t speak. Athanasia could just make out the edges of their shadows from where they stood at the door. They stood stock still; posed and ready to begin fighting at a moment’s notice.

Three GIW Operatives. Two members of the League of Assassins. Five in total.

She’s had worse odds.

Mentally, she quickly devised a plan that wouldn’t get them caught, and then acted.

Ever so slowly and quietly, she lifted the grate. One of the GIW operatives stood up and stretched. The man moved to stand directly under the grate, unaware of Athanasia and unknowingly making this a bit easier – something she was definitely not going to complain about.

She dropped out of the vent, directly on top of the operative and consequently knocking him out. Drawing one gun from the holster on her back, she shot the two League of Assassins members before they could even react. Thanks to the silencer on it, the gunshots were barely audible, and two bodies fell to the floor with twin thuds.

She then threw two manji shurikens at the operative who reached to call in reinforcements. One went into the back of his hand, and the other his forearm. At the same, the third operative rushed at her. Just in time, she dodged to the side and pulled out a dagger, finding a home for it in the man’s gut, slicing upwards. She trained the gun on the one she threw the shurikens at, and a bullet landed right between the eyes, slumping in the chair he never got a chance to get out of.

The man she landed on began to move. She stomped on his temple with the heel of her boot, hard enough to kill. The man went limp immediately.

“It’s safe,” she called, and moved two of the bodies from underneath the vent. Blood was already pooling and made sure not to step in it. “Do not land in the blood, unless you want to be the one to get us caught by tracking red footprints everywhere.”

Red Huntress, AKA Valerie Gray, came down first. She whistled lowly as she took in the room. “Damn,” she muttered. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were an assassin.”

Next came Samantha Manson as Athanasia went to move the two LoA members from the door. She glanced over her shoulder as Manson said, “You didn’t believe her with all the weapons she carries?”

Red Huntress slipped off her helmet. “Excuse me for not immediately believing someone when they tell me they’re the long lost twin assassin of our friend. Which, by the way, I’m still iffy on the twin thing. You’re too different.”

Athanasia raised an eyebrow. “Wow, it is almost as if we are fraternal twins with different personalities, and have been separated for eight years.”

Red Huntress rolled her eyes. “Geez, okay. Chill with the smartass-ness.”

“Look, I understand your distrust, Valerie,” Manson said, “and I didn’t believe it at first, either, but who else could she be?”

“You can still be a genetically altered clone,” Tucker Foley said from where he was wiggling out backwards of the vent. “Like Ellie.”

“I can promise you that I am not.”

“Not helping, Tucker.”

Foley finally fell down. Athanasia was quick to move, and placed a hand on his shoulder as he became unbalanced.

“Don’t put your left foot down,” she ordered.

He froze. “Um.”

She turned him until he wasn’t about to step in a puddle of blood, and then let go. “Okay.”

He hesitated, but did put his foot down. Then, he took a large side step away from both the blood and Athanasia. “Thanks,” he said, a little awkwardly.

She nodded once. Then, turning on her comm while wiping off her dagger on her pant leg and sheathing it, she said, “Weston, do you copy?”

Foley moved to the many consoles of the computers. He sat down in a chair, the furthest from the one with the dead body, and pulled out equipment from his backpack. Manson followed and watched the screens with a keen eye, and Red Huntress stayed near the door, though watched the camera feeds as well.

“Loud and clear, Phantom’s twin,” Wesley Weston replied. “Your get away car and it’s driver are in position.”

“Good. Stay connected to this line. Depending on how fast everything goes down, we will need extraction at a moment’s notice.”

“You got it, dude.”

“Have I mentioned how nice these comms are?” Foley questioned. “Because I’m in love with them.”

“Only about a hundred times,” said Manson.

“Can you blame me? Even scrambling their signature with ectoplasm, the sound is so clear. No type of ghostly feedback whatsoever. I need them for myself once we’re done here.” As he talked, he worked on connecting with the GIW’s system, hacking away undetected. “Where did you get them?”

“I stole one from Batman and then replicated it.”

Silence fell. Foley froze for a second time, and Manson’s expression turned into shocked disbelief. Red Huntress mouth parted in surprise.

Then, all at once, they began speaking.

“No way you did that–.”

“You’ve met Batman?! Do you know his identity because I have a theory–”

“Everything you say makes me more confused–.”

“You replicated tech from Batman?!”

“Guys. Guys!” Athanasia raised her voice. “Focus,” she snapped. “We are on a time limit, here.”

“But–”

“Shut up, Weston,” she ground out.

Wesley let out a disappointed sigh.

“The shift changes in forty-five minutes,” she reminded them. “Unless we want GIW operatives and more assassins to find us earlier than planned, I suggest we get to work on saving Danny.”

That settled things down quickly.

Part of her regretted not doing this by herself, which had been the original plan, even way back when she first heard her twin was within GIW custody. She had been so tempted to go in there with no plan at all, to find Danny and get him out. But she wasn’t familiar with the GIW. Luckily, she knew who was, and she went to them.

(Neither Manson or Tucker trusted her, or even believed her, those first couple of weeks.)

Even still, she sent a message to Damian asking him to look up the Ghost Investigation Ward. She didn’t get an immediate response from him – not like it mattered. The moment Danny’s best friends allowed her to work with them on saving him, Foley had created a device that scrambled any and all tech to keep them from the GIW’s eyes, and consequently everyone else outside of their area.

And then she learned the League of Assassins were working with the GIW, for some reason.

She tried to back out, to convince them to let her do this part by herself. The League was dangerous, simply put, and she didn’t want anyone, especially the people Danny cared most about, to get hurt or worse by them. But Danny had a good group of friends who were particularly stubborn and headstrong. As annoying as it was, she did like that about them. It meant they weren’t going to give up the search anytime soon.

Valerie Gray and Wesley Weston joined in on the mission a few weeks ago, when she and Manson and Foley were finalizing the plan. They realized it would be best to bring in another person or two, just in case.

And so, she was stuck with what they deemed as ‘Team Phantom’. A group of not so regular teens from a haunted town, who were definitely a little odd but trustworthy.

Team Phantom was good – each of them in their own ways.

So, as much as she regretted this, she also was glad she decided not to go in alone. It was easier. Nicer.

They also may be growing on her. Like mold, or moss, or fungi, or something.

She didn’t really know how to feel about that.

“Okay,” Foley mumbled. “Let’s see… Ah, 3D floor plans. Sweet.” He pulled up the floor plans on his laptop. “So we’re here,” a green dot appeared on the 3D floor plan where the security room was, “on the first floor. These are the exits,” he highlighted them in a light orange, “and the far left ventilation shaft on the roof is where we came in,” it was highlighted a darker purple while the rest of the vent system became more of a lilac color, “There’s three floors, not including what seems to be a secret basement. It’s not on the original floor plans I found, but it is on here and there are cameras.”

“That’s probably where they’re keeping Danny,” Red Huntress said as she walked up.

Foley pulled up the basement cameras. Empty holding cells filled up three of the screens. All of them were closed, except for one. The door was left open, with only part of a thin mattress on a metal frame in sight because of the angle.

“Are there any cameras for the room at the end of the hall?” Manson asked, cutting into the disappointed silence. She pointed at one screen, where a inconspicuous door could be seen.

Athanasia kept her eyes on the screens as Foley worked. Worry are her up alive on the inside, but she refused to show it.

“…No,” he said, and the disappointed silence returned.

“That’s not suspicious at all,” Red Huntress muttered sarcastically.

“Yes, there has to be a reason there are no cameras,” agreed Athanasia.

The other girl suggested, “I can check down there after I comb through the first floor like we originally planned.”

She frowned a little. “It may be heavily guarded.”

“I regularly fight ghosts. This is nothing.”

“From what the cameras can see, the basement doesn’t have many guards,” said Foley. “Operatives are walking around, and maybe one or two of those assassins, but other than that there’s no one.”

“Then Danny’s not there,” Manson said.

“If you really are up to it,” started Athanasia, “you should still check it out, Red Huntress. Perhaps there might be something the Doctors Fentons left behind before Danny was able to send them to the Infinite Realms.”

If that was where they were. Manson and Foley explained to her that had been the original plan when Danny went to save them.

Red Huntress nodded with determination. “I’m up for it, definitely.”

“Which floor is most heavily guarded?”

Foley’s eyes went from the security feeds to his computer, back and forth again and again. “From what I can tell from the cameras, they’re all equally distributed on each floor. Definitely one of the top floors, though.”

“There are some labs on the second floor,” Manson commented. She pointed at another screen, where one operative entered a room as he held some sort of vial and clipboard. She then pointed to a different feed from the same floor, where it showed a couple of operatives leaving a room with mechanics of some sort. “I’ll take this floor. Destroy what they have by planting the bombs, take what may help us figure out how to fight against them better, and what they might have gotten out of Jack and Maddie.”

“So, that leaves Athanasia with the third floor, and me here corrupting any files in their system they about Danny and ghosts in general, while also leading you guys around to avoid getting caught,” Foley concluded. “Right?”

“Right,” the girls chorused.

“Send Weston a file of the 3D floor plan,” Athanasia ordered. “It will aid him in knowing the possible exits he might have to meet us at.”

“Oh, I hadn’t even thought of that,” Wesley said.

“I figured.”

“Hey, rude.”

She ignored him. She went over to the body in the chair, and took back her manji shurikens. Like she did with the dagger, she wiped off the blood on her pant leg, and put them back in their respective sheaths along her thigh, nestled with the others.

Mentally, she quickly made note of her other weapons. The gun holstered on her right thigh, and the dagger sheathed on the calf of the same leg; the twin swords sheathed in an X on her back; two more guns holstered at her lower back, which were made with knives that came out of the grip when needed. She had hidden types of shurikens, a small knife hidden in the sole of both boots, and not to mention her fists and feet and teeth. (Biting was very effective, okay?)

Red Huntress had her usual weapons, plus the bombs, as did Manson and Foley. Athanasia made sure they knew how to handle them correctly one more time.

And then the search and rescue began.

Red Huntress parted with Athanasia and Manson at the security room’s door. Foley led the former one down the hall, while the latter two were led to the staircase. One floor up, and Manson parted from her to scope out the second floor.

Foley spoke the most, informing them of incoming GIW or LoA people. Red Huntress gave a few updates on the bomb placements, and Manson, after having slipped into the first empty room on the second floor, told them she found pieces of a prototype of the Fenton’s portal machine.

“Take the important pieces if you know what they are. Place a bomb on the rest to destroy them,” Athanasia told her.

“I’m taking the blueprints, too. We can check to see if they’re at all accurate with Danny later,” replied Sam.

“Where the hell did he come from,” Foley’s voice came through, confusing the girls.

“What? Who?” Manson asked.

“Some regal, evil looking dude is in the basement. I think he came out of the room that doesn’t have cameras, but I’m not one hundred percent sure… Is it just a thing that bad middle aged men have pointy-ish hair?”

Athanasia faltered three steps away from reaching the third floor. “What.”

“Plasmius’ hair curls up, so it sort of looks like devil horns or something. This guy’s hair is similar but not as dramatic, and the points are more on the sides than the top of his head, but I think it’s because it’s just slicked back. Guy’s got a thing for dark green, too.”

Dread began to fill her gut.

“Maybe I can meet him half way and beat some answers out of him,” Red Huntress bit out.

“Do not,” Athanasia hissed. “Stay the hell away from that man, and do not go into the basement until he is out.”

“Why not?” asked Manson. “It’s just an old dude, apparently. We have experience fighting them.”

“Unfortunately,” Red Huntress grouched. “Is he another Vlad? Because I do not want to deal with that.”

“He’s getting in the elevator, so Val should be safe if–.”

“If you go against him, you will die. What floor is he going to?”

“Let me get into the right elevator’s cams… It looks like he pressed for the third floor.”

Her breath hitched, and Athanasia cursed in Arabic under her breath. A sneer formed on her face. She took a step back, only to nearly slip off of the step. Quickly, she rebalanced and turned, and hurried back down the stairs.

…Maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe she jumped to conclusions too fast.

“Is he gray at the temples? Tall? Goatee minus the chin hair and mustache?”

“Um… yeah.”

Okay. She didn’t jump to conclusions.

“Okay,” she muttered. “Okay,” she repeated in Arabic.

“Atha–.”

“Do not use my name,” she spoke so fast she wondered if they even understood her. “Call me…” Her mind went to the few times she aided Red Hood in Gotham from the shadows. She knew that he knew she was there, but neither one of them spoke to each other or made it known to the civilians, which freaked them out a bit when a bad guy would be impaled out of nowhere. A few had started to use a name for her. “Use Shrike.”

“Is everything okay?” Wesley asked.

The others answered ‘I don’t know’ in varying ways at the same time.

Fear gripped at her, causing her mind turn into a whirlwind. She did her best to calm down so she could think rationally about this, but the only thing her brain could truly focus on was that Ra’s al Ghul was here. Her grandfather. The man who ran a sword through her twin’s chest with no remorse.

And if he’s here… He knew Danny was alive. There was absolutely no way that he didn’t.

She didn’t plan for this. Stupid. How did she not think of the possibility of Ra’s being here?

“You all continue with your parts of the plan, except for Red Huntress. I will be going to the basement in your place; stick to the first and second floors. No one is touching the third floor.”

“Now, wait just a minute–.”

“I will not wait–.”

“Um, it’s a figure of speech–,” Foley tried, but Athanasia continued over him.

“I know that, and my statement still stands. Follow my orders unless you want to die by the sword of the Demon’s Head. Are there stairs to the basement?”

A beat of silence.

“…No. Only the elevator.” Just as she reached the stairwell’s door, Foley added, “Two assassins are about to enter your location, Ath– um. Shrike?”

Athanasia ducked behind the door as it opened. Keeping her footsteps light, she stayed next to the door as it moved to close, out of their immediate line of sight. When the door shut all the way, she lunged with her dagger in hand, grabbing one assassin from behind. One hand covered their mouth while the other lifted her to slit their throat.

Assassin #2 immediately noticed what was happening, and drew a sword to attack. Athanasia used the first one as a shield before shoving the body away as she drew one of her own swords. It didn’t take long for her to overtake Assassin #2, though they did get a couple hits in. She now had a cut on her cheek, and a bruise forming on her side from a harsh kick.

Before speaking, she muted her comm.

“Pathetic,” she sneered, holding Assassin #2 against the stairwell’s railing by her forearm on their chest and sword against their neck. “Is this really what the League has become? I was expecting a harder fight.”

“You,” they hissed, a little bit shock on their features and disbelief in their voice. “You are supposed to be dead.”

“Are you really surprised?” she questioned. “Look at who my grandfather is. But that is not what I am here for.” The blade pressed harder against skin. “I am here for Phantom. Where is he? What does the League want with him?”

“Why should I tell you? You will just kill me after.”

“And you think I will let you live if you refuse?”

The assassin raised their chin in defiance. “There is a reason you left the League, no? It is the same one why Ra’s killed your brother. The Terror Twins – both too soft and weak to follow simple orders. You and him are the pathetic ones. Not us.”

Athanasia raised an eyebrow. She didn’t verbally rise to the bait. She merely pulled back enough to where she kept the assassin in place with the sword, and removed her other arm. In a flash, Assassin #2 moved to knock the sword away, but she was faster. She drew out a gun and shot them in both knees and one shoulder.

Assassin #2 crumpled with a shout of pain.

Sword now sheathed but the gun still on hand, she bent down and lifted him back up by gripping his hair.

“That,” she began, “That was me being nice. You seem to have forgotten who I am: Athanasia al Ghul, daughter of Talia al Ghul and the greatest detective in the world, and granddaughter of Ra’s al Ghul. I was trained as a potential heir, and lead the Demon’s Fist. I am the Demon Princess of the League of Assassins, dead or alive, and let me be clear that I have not lost my touch over the years I have been gone. I know multiple ways to kill you before you can take your next breath, before you even know what is happening.

“You think I will not kill you if you refuse to give me answers? Perhaps not immediately, but I will leave you writhing in pain until it is the one thing you beg for, and who’s to say I will do it even then.

“So. Let’s try this again.” Her finger flicked the button on her gun that released the knife in the grip. The blade pressed against Assassin #2’s neck hard enough to draw blood. “Where is Phantom?”

For a moment, she thought they weren’t going to answer. Then, resigned and obviously mad about it, they told her, “There is a floor below the basement. Phantom is there.”

“See? Now was that so hard?”

The assassin stared with a heated glare. Before she could act properly, they raised their good arm and slashed at her. The knife cut into the forearm that held her gun, and instinctively she dropped it as she moved away. They lunged for a killing stab at her chest, but by then she was ready to block the attack. One hand still gripping their hair and the other now holding back the hand wielding the knife, she twisted the wrist until it broke and bashed their head into the edge of the steps.

Assassin #2 went limp.

Were they breathing? She didn’t know, nor did she care.

Careful of her now wounded arm, she picked back up her gun. The knife went back in its hiding place, and she put the gun securely in the holster. Then, she turned back on her comm.

“I know where he is.”

+++

Getting to the basement was easy. With Foley’s help, she avoided operatives and assassins on the way to the elevator, and that was that. He also unlocked the door at the far end of the basement’s hall. It had been locked via a hidden mechanical lock that she would have needed false identification for if Foley wasn’t with them. It took only just under two minutes, and then the door opened with ease.

Athanasia took a step into the doorway, and then froze.

“Shrike?” Foley asked. “Why did you stop?”

“Is she in the room?” Manson asked.

“She just, um, froze in the doorway. Are you okay? What is it?”

“…I am,” she said. “But I think it’s better if I do not tell you.”

A League issued torture room. Nothing about it said it was for the Ghost Investigation Ward.

The only thing that eased her mind a little was that it obviously hadn’t been used in a while.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts, and then continued on. Soon enough, she found a hidden staircase, and went down without hesitation.

“I’ve got no eyes on you, Shrike,” Foley reminded her. “Stay safe.”

“Give ‘em hell,” Manson said.

“With pleasure,” she replied back.

The hall she entered from the stairs was reminiscent of a League base. Her fingers twitched, an uncomfortable feeling settling in her stomach at the sight. Pushing that aside, she walked down the hall at a steady pace towards two LoA members guarding double doors.

They noticed her immediately. It quickly became a fight of two against one, but it ended just as fast. She picked up their respective swords and twirled them in her hands as she walked to the double doors, kicking them open.

Everything and everyone in the room stopped.

Athanasia didn’t give them a chance to act first. The two assassins that guarded the inside began to fight back almost instantly, but it took the GIW operatives and scientists a few seconds to do the same.

The fight was brutal. Against the most people so far today, though it wasn’t necessarily hard, it was the longest one yet. They used their numbers to their advantage and attempted to overwhelm her, but Athanasia was quick to improvise and seek out the weaker of the fighters first.

By the end, Athanasia was out of breath and bloodied (some hers, some splatters from the assassins and operatives) and bruised. There was even a burn or two from the ectoplasmic guns the GIW wielded. The two swords of the League members from the hallway were impaled through two of the scientists that had been standing over her twin.

Dányál – Danny. Currently in his Phantom form. He was strapped, locked in, on a sleek medical table and a mechanical mask over the bottom half of his face. A y-shaped wound on his torso was only partly stitched, and there was an IV of unknown substance stuck into one arm. His expression was scrunched up in pain, white hair matted with sweat and eyes squeezed shut and jaw visibly clenched even through the mask.

Athanasia pushed aside the part of her of that wanted to be sick, and rushed to his side. She carefully pulled out the IV first, locking the tube so no more liquid would get out. Then, she went to the mask.

Danny flinched back.

She halted her movements.

“Dányál,” Athanasia spoke shakily, and corrected to, “Danny,” when his expression twisted even more. “Akhi, it’s me. I have come to help you get out of here,” she said with forced steadiness in her tone.

His eyes cracked open, the usual icy blue currently a Lazarus green. There was no recognition in them. Only confusion.

She knew that would be the case, but it still hurt.

She held up her hands to show that she meant no harm. Hopefully the blood splattered on them wouldn’t cause him to freak. And to her relief, he didn’t. He slumped a little, as much as he could with already laying on the table, and she began to work on removing the mask. After flipping a few latches, it came undone with a hiss and she tossed it to the floor.

Danny gasped, jaw dropping open. He went to speak, only for his voice to get caught in his throat and cause a coughing fit.

“I think it will be best if you don’t speak,” Athanasia murmured, and moved to unlock him from the table.

The coughing subsided, then turned into groans and hisses of pain.

“My name is Athanasia,” she introduced herself. “I am here with your friends – ‘Team Phantom’ as they call themselves.” The cuffs released him, but he still had GIW issued bracelets of sorts on his wrists. It affected his abilities, if the fact that he wasn’t healing fast was any indication. The others explained he had a super fast healing ability, and right now it seemed to be nonexistent. “We are here to get you out. No matter what.”

Danny groaned. “Still… Still hurts.” His voice was rough and hoarse.

Athanasia didn’t know what to say to that. So, she smoothed back sweaty bangs from his forehead, something she knew Mother did the few times she was allowed to comfort them when no one was around, and looked around the room. A table of medical supplies were nearby. Ignoring the scalpel, she grabbed a roll of gauze and bandages. (As well as an empty vial, which she filled up with the stuff that was in the IV.)

Carefully, she helped Danny sit up.

He hissed in pain again. It shifted into a whine.

“Sorry,” she said sincerely. “This will may hurt some more. Prepare yourself.”

“Hurts,” he mumbled. “The blood…”

“There is a lot of it,” she muttered. “On both of us.”

Athanasia wrapped the gauze around his torso as quick as she could, hoping it was tight enough to stall most of the bleeding but also loose enough that it wouldn’t unravel. When she finished, she allowed him to lean against her.

She soon noticed the lack of speaking in her ear. With a slight frown, she touched the comm, and was instantly met with Team Phantom talking over each other. She must have turned hers off without realizing while fighting.

“He’s here, and alive,” Athanasia spoke. “What the hell are you guys yelling about?”

All at once, they quieted. Then—

“Oh, thank the Ancients!” Foley exclaimed. “Don’t go offline like that again!”

“…I’ll think about it,” Athanasia said, vaguely confused. Why were they so worried? She handled everything just fine. “But it’s time to get out of here.” She paused as she helped Danny off of the table, only for him to nearly collapse. She cursed, ducking to place his arm over her shoulders to hold him up that way. “…And maybe someone should come down and help me. Danny will not be walking on his own anytime today.”

+++

Leaving the hidden headquarters of the Ghost Investigation Ward was not as easy as infiltrating it. (Although, it was easier than those months of searching for it – it was hell, never knowing if they would ever track the new location down). One of the assassins who guarded the outside of the medical room Danny had been in, was able to find just enough life in themself to send an alert out about intruders.

The two basement floors quickly became a point of interest for GIW operatives and LoA members alike.

Athanasia fought like hell, though her moves were limited. Keeping them away from her twin brother and fighting at the same time was tough. He was practically limp against her side, and from his feet movements, she knew he was trying to move on his own, but – body weakened and powers snuffed out because of the GIW cuffs – he was unable to do much of anything.

She made it to the first floor of the basement eventually, injured more than she’d like to admit. Her hair was falling out of the high pony she had put it in, the ecto guns gave her burns, there were new cuts and what may be more accurately described as gashes, and a few new bruises as well. Danny unfortunately got hit once or twice in the crosshairs.

That led her now.

Athanasia al Ghul didn’t let herself be cornered often. But to keep her twin safe? She’d do it a thousand times more. Danny, on his feet, was slumped against the wall behind her. She stood directly in front him, guns with the knives drawn and aimed at the group of enemies. She was not letting them touch Danny again.

Before anyone had a chance to act, the elevator door dinged open. Everything paused. Tucker Foley stepped forward just enough to stop the doors from closing.

Everyone stared.

He waved. “Hi.”

Red Huntress and Sam Manson jumped from a lone vent grate from the ceiling, using the confusion Foley caused to their advantage. From there, it was back to fighting.

When she suggested someone to come help her, this was not what she had in mind, necessarily. She wasn’t complaining, though.

Red Huntress judo flipped an assassin into an operative. They went down like bricks into a third person.

“Go!” Manson shouted. “We’ve got this, A– Shrike! Get him out of here!”

Athanasia hesitated, but listened. As much as she was wary of them handling themselves against the League and wanted to help, she wanted to get Danny out of there more.

Lifting him up bridal style after putting her guns away, she muttered an apology when the movement tugged on his injuries, and then ran for the elevator Foley held open. As she got closer, he ducked in and spammed the close button. She slid in right as it began to close, kicking Foley to one side of the elevator as she pressed herself to another.

Three ninja stars struck the wall they were just in front of.

The doors shut.

They stared at them in silence as Foley pressed the ‘1’ button.

“How did you…?”

“They can be predictable sometimes,” she admitted.

Foley ‘huh’ed. “Well… Thanks.”

Once the elevator stopped and opened, they were back to running. Foley used his Fenton Works weapons he had to take out whoever tried to attack them.

“Main entrance, Wesley!” Athanasia shouted into the comms.

“But that’s the most obvious one?” he questioned, though she heard the vehicle start in the background.

“It’s the closest one– hey! Watch the face, man!” Foley shot at an assassin who tried to hit him with shurikens. They went down immediately with a pained groan.

Just then, a large green blast burst through the hallway’s floor. Athanasia stopped, boots squeaking against the floor, and Foley’s halt was more of a stumble than anything. Before they could question what was happening, Red Huntress flew up on her board with Manson balanced behind her, the girls back to back. Red Huntress shot her large ecto-gun back down the hole.

“How you like that, assholes?!”

Manson fiddled with what looked like tiny rockets on her wrist. “Let’s go, let’s go!” She shot one down the hall behind Athanasia and Foley, right at another group of operatives.

Foley backed up, then ran and leaped over the hole, bolting to the main doors of the headquarters. Athanasia did the same, stumbling a little on the landing, but she recovered quickly, and mumbled another apology when the jostling caused Danny more pain. Red Huntress and Manson followed on the former’s hover board.

As they got closer to the doors, a line of League members convened in front of them. None of them stopped running as Red Huntress shot at them, and then again at the door.

“Setting the timer on the bombs,” Manson told them just as they got outside. “Twenty seconds.”

“Wes, where–”

Tires skidding on pavement interrupted Foley. A black van came to an abrupt stop ten feet away, and the back door opened. “Right here!” he yelled from the driver’s seat.

Foley helped her get Danny in the van first, carefully placing him on the second row. They then piled in with the door shutting behind them, and Wesley peeled off, the other two girls zooming in the air to follow.

The bombs went off.

The previously hidden GIW headquarters went up in flames.

“Any followers?” asked Athanasia. She opened the sun roof, and moved to the front seat as Foley maneuvered the backs of the second row to fold backwards.

Manson dropped onto the roof of the van, and then into the vehicle itself. “Not that I saw,” she said.

“Hm.”

“I’m going to make the van invisible just in case, though.”

“For how long?” Wesley asked.

“As long as I can.”

Foley spoke up from where he now sat, with Danny’s head cushioned in his lap, “Don’t overdo it, Sam. You’re still new to magic.”

“No promises.” Manson got situated in the third row of seats. “I’m not letting those fruitloops find us, Tucker.”

Red Huntress then came into the van, board disappearing as she did so. “I think the explosion will be keeping them busy for a while.” She slipped off her helmet, eyes falling to Danny while she sat at his feet. “How is he?”

Foley shook his head. “In bad shape.”

Athanasia frowned, and from a pocket pulled out the vial of the stuff from the IV. “This was in an IV they were giving him. I have no clue what it is, but I believe it was harming him.”

He took the vial with a frown.

“We need to get him someplace safe,” Valerie Gray said. “Or… You guys do. That is, if the plan is still for Wes and I to go back to Amity Park and Ellie.”

Foley nodded. “Yeah, it is. Get to Amity Park, and tell Ellie to find Jazz – she’s been out of the loop for too long.”

Gray winced. “Oh, she’s gonna pissed.”

“I know where we can take him,” Athanasia told them. She reached to the built in GPS to start inputting the address. “He will be safe there, and they will help us keep him safe.”

“Are you sure?” Foley asked.

“Absolutely.”

If not, then Jason Todd lied about Bruce Wayne being a good man.

Once the address was put in, she pulled out her communicator – the one that was part of a matching set. She debated on whether a written message or a voice call would be better…

Gray leaned between the two front seats. “That address is in Gotham, New Jersey.” She looked at Athanasia incredulously. “How the hell is that safer?”

“Because I’m taking him to our father.”

#dp x dc fic #dpxdc #dp x dc au #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp fic #dc x dp crossover #dc x dp fanfiction #dc x dp au #why are there So Many tags for this part of the fandom #dc #danny phantom #stay with me my blood #batpham #dp x dc #my writing

[forlorn-crows]

Cumulus is always the dommy mommy.

Dont get me wrong shes hot as a dom but i dont really care for the mommy part if that makes sense. Let her be a mistress or sir or something!!

interestingly enough, i dont really ever see cumulus as dommy mommy? or rather, i should say she is most often 'mommy' coded but i feel like i dont see that dom aspect? i feel like the fandom assigned dommy mommy has been cirrus historically (we'll talk about that in a lil bit)

but, and you can correct me if im wrong, i think im understanding you here when you say 'mistress' or 'sir', because of the fact when she is more dominant, its paired with the 'mommy' thing. she doesnt typically get written with a hard dom edge. theres always some aspect of softness, is how im taking that.

which is true, ive seen that. and i might derail a bit from your personal point and maybe even the common theme that ive seen so far . . . but i dont know if anyone else feels this way, but cumulus and sunshine, to me, dont feel like ghouls who typically enjoy that hard edge (at least in my personal hc). i would group mist and aurora in that category, with cirrus somewhere in that middle ground.

i totally get wanting to see that from a ghoulette like lus, due to the fact she's not the type of character people would 'assume' would act that way. its very easy to say we should write characters in protest or in opposition to the roles most commonly assigned to them. but i also want to offer the idea that maybe we're just doing the same thing but in reverse. im of the belief that its perfectly okay to write feminine characters with feminine stereotypes, so long as those traits are balanced with other elements of their character.

again, i completely understand wanting to see her in different roles, especially bc people who look like lus are literally all shades of different from each other. AND that the prevailing characterization of lus tends to sway in one pinpointed direction, which isnt good either. AND AND that you could literally have all kinds of ideas about who cumulus is to you, and its technically correct. all we know is how these ghouls act on stage. we dont have actual plot and things to critique like a show or movie would. we're critiquing each other, which many a time ends up as a critique of the greater societal stereotypes and ideas about fat women. which is valid. and i know im rambling and this is more of what i specifically want to talk about in another (even longer lmao) post.

in the end, i agree. it would be nice to separate the dom and the mommy thing from being cemented together, because dom in itself has soooo many flavors and shapes etc. maybe lus doesnt want to be nice. maybe she does want that hardness. i dont know! but youre right, i dont see that of her much.

#i think yall know that im not ranting or critiquing you specifically #we could have these conversations for h o u r s and not get anywhere #theres a lot to unpack just with one character so i may not make sense lmao #like i said i have more specific ideas about cumulus that ill make a separate post about #bc some of my ideas about her are not the common hc either #ask #anon

[starlit-dreaming]

[ch4] élémentaire

Fandom: MLB Ship: Eventual Felinette, MarcNath & Chlogami, Past Lukanette TL;DR: HBIC Marinette + Rich Marinette + ML Salt Fic + Canon Divergence

0 | 1 | 2 | 3 | [4] | 5

Note: ngl, this chapter kinda took my ideas and ran it through before i even realized it. i had only 2 main ideas and it ended up getting better than expected -- it even fit the theme of the chapter LMAO

4 words: karma is a bitch

ALSO I DIDNT FORGET THE TAGS THIS TIME!!!!!!!

Tags: @jjmjjktth @smolplantmum @always-on-a-sugar-high @fan-written @vixen-uchiha @fanfics-and-fangirling @marvel--unsolved @starlightshield @lady-bee-fechin @draco-kasai @weirdo-with-no-beardo @idontwannaexistsopleasekillme @blep-23

————————————————————

iv. jacinthes bleues

————————————————————

Even though they’ve been classmates for years at Dupont, Nino couldn’t really consider himself to be friends with all of them. Maybe the guys, but certainly not the girls.

So, despite how friendly Rose has always been even when they were attending Notre Dame, he didn’t actually know her well enough to feel comfortable calling her a close friend despite their shared circles. He knew nothing of her involvement in any of Marinette’s plans unless Marinette or Alix talked to him, and apart from info gathering, he couldn’t think of any other reasons on how she factored into Marinette’s plans. An insider job, perhaps?

Rose still wore a pink ribbon, her unspoken sign of her allegiance to Marinette, so… they were in the same boat. They both fell for Lila’s lies and were trying to make it up to Marinette. Rose was a much better actress than he ever realized.

“What a screwed up situation we’re in, huh?” Nino asked wryly, leaning back into his seat. They were both in the library, working on their assigned project for their history class in the peace and quiet.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Rose said with a smile, though her eyes narrowed at him. “If anything, it’s a minor setback.”

“If that’s how you wanna call it…” he frowned, trailing off as he looked at the textbook. “Y’know, there’s no shame in admitting—”

“We are both in very different situations, Nino,” Rose sharply stated in a sweet tone of voice. “You let yourself be fooled. I let myself be complacent. There’s a difference.”

He didn’t get why Rose seemed so on edge, but it was probably for the best if he let the conversation drop. Out of everyone, Rose was the worst person to be stuck in an argument with, especially because she had that effect on people in making them feel as if they kicked a puppy.

It didn’t seem all that different to him, though. They were both in the same situations, just different end results.

Still, Rose was also the most observant person in their group who could easily pick up on a wide range of information, and her grudges were long-lasting. He’s not gonna argue about technicalities.

“You’re slouching,” Rose started frowning.

“I know,” he awkwardly admits.

“You can’t avoid it forever,” she gently said.

“I know, Rose.”

At this, she sighed, “If you don’t do anything about it, I will.”

It wasn’t a threat; it was a promise.

He doesn’t say anything in response to that, because he knows. Everyone is doing their part, no matter how hard it might be, and he’s been stalling.

But what he’s about to do is going to hurt either way.

His relationship with Alya is on the line — if she doesn’t believe him then… they might break up. He knows that the likelihood of their relationship surviving into adulthood is pretty slim, but he doesn’t want to lose her over a liar, he knows that much. If he says nothing, he’s letting her be manipulated; if he says something, it’s over even if he doesn’t want them to be. The only possibility of it going great is if Alya hears him out, which is definitely going to be a 50-50 chance.

And if Adrien doesn’t believe him, he might go crazy, but it’d be bearable — Adrien and Lila kinda have a thing going on. Adrien’s already pretty clueless about a ton of stuff, even more so when it comes to girls flirting with him, but with how he lets Lila hang off of him all the time, he wouldn’t be surprised if he was blinded from infatuation.

“If I were you, I would talk to Alya first,” Rose smiled sweetly. He’s not sure if it’s genuine kindness or if it’s part of her own plans, because it’s Nino’s problem to begin with, but it’s good advice nevertheless. “It’ll be easier to convince Adrien, but harder with Alya. If you do end up arguing or breaking up over this, then she’ll have time to come around and apologize.”

Adrien would be easier to convince.

As much as he thinks his feelings for Alya might be tipping into love, his girlfriend’s got a short temper and he can’t deny it. She was easy to rile up, and it does get hard to communicate with her when she’s adamant about being right.

“…yeah, you’re right. Thanks, dudette.”

—————————— 

“For the record, this is a terrible idea.”

Alix knew that her words would do nothing to deter Marinette from seeing this meeting through to the end, but she has always been her right-hand man and stating the obvious is her job. Honest to a fault, some might say, but frankly that’s the way Marinette prefers it. Despite their past disagreements, it will always remain the same.

Despite what happens, Marinette leads, and Alix follows.

“Oh, believe me,” she dryly chuckles, shooting Alix an amused look. Alix didn’t see why this was so amusing to Marinette, but maybe her suffering was the funny thing here. “I know it is.”

Standing tall before them was a very familiar building — a rather sizable hotel. It was overly fancy and had long since lost its charm, and yet it was the only place that Dupont could get a free field trip at on short notice: Le Grand Paris.

Despite knowing that it’ll be far from pleasant, it was necessary. There was no set precedent when it came to disbanding a faction and rebuilding it in later years, but this felt like a matter of formalities.

It was during the faction meeting that Marinette disbanded Méticuleuse, and so she herself needed to correct her past action — even if it never really stopped her followers from still following her unofficial guidelines.

The first step of doing so was holding a faction meeting, and that required a proper apology to Chloé Bourgeois (yeah, the irony of this fact wasn’t lost on Alix — Mme Bustier has consistently been badgering Marinette to apologize to Chloé despite being innocent, and here she was, doing exactly what Mme Bustier would be ecstatic to hear). Before they could move forward, they all probably need to air out their grievances, which was going to be the worst.

At least it was only Chloé who was going to be complaining.

(Félix technically needed to be there as well, but he was a special case considering that he isn’t attending Dupont and wasn’t even in France to begin with.)

So, apart from Marinette and Alix, it was just Chloé and Sabrina, and Claude Sainté-Pierre who was acting as Félix’s proxy (as he always did) who would be in attendance.

‘She’s going to be insufferable,’ Alix sighed, already feeling slightly irritated at the thought. “Would it be too late to ask you to swap me out with Rose for the meeting?”

“Absolutely,” Marinette smiled serenely, looking at Alix with a clear statement of “you’re not getting out of this that easily” — which, fair. Alix knew what she was getting into when she agreed to remain as her second. “Besides, Rose has more pressing matters to attend to from what I’m aware of, while you just have your daily bets and competitions with Kim. Ondine can easily help you get out of that by asking to spend more time with him.”

Ah. An unexpected bonus. That was also the reason why Kim didn’t seem to complain too much when Alix told him she had to bail on their race for the day, if Alix put two and two together.

Alix knew that Ondine was popular and reliable, and they both get along well enough (and Alix can say for certain that Ondine’s too good for Kim), but she never really stopped to think of her beyond that. Kim and Ondine were still in that phase of figuring out their maybe-relationship, so Alix did actively try to avoid thinking of Ondine more often than not purely because she wanted nothing to do with that.

‘It sure is convenient that Kim’s definite-girlfriend is in our group,’ Alix nodded. ‘I’m tired of all his demands for a rematch.’

“We should probably go in now,” Marinette sighed, sealing Alix’s fate for the next few hours.

‘On second thought… never mind.’

—————————— 

‘I would do anything to get out of this,’ Claude Sainté-Pierre thought, a fake smile plastered on his face as takes a sip of water.

They were sitting at one of the private tables of Le Grand Paris — something normally offered to celebrities and VIP guests. Chloé’s butler had assured them at the start that no classmates of theirs will be allowed to take a foot into the building before bowing and taking his leave.

The butler and the whole secret meeting was a bit much, but Claude was somewhat used to it. His parents were on the wealthy side, yet his family didn’t have a butler or anything — a regular cleaning service and security system, yes, but not their own wait staff. Allegra’s family had no qualms about employing maids and their own personal chef, and Allan’s family may have been similar to his, but Allan’s family had their own home studio and an indoor cinema.

Marinette’s probably the only one who would get it — Félix had the chance to go to her house when they were younger, and they didn’t have any hired help. At the bakery, yeah, but not within the house.

The sound of a glass cup thumping against the table brought him back to the conversation at hand.

Or rather… the lack of conversation.

They were seated at a table for six, with Claude kinda sitting across from Alix. Chloé was unfortunately next to him, while an empty chair remained on his other side. Empty seat, Claude, Chloé, Sabrina, Marinette, and Alix — the typical setup to prevent a faction leader from sitting next to another leader. It was mostly to prevent them from being fixated on the other person, since it often led to distractions.

Marinette and Chloé argued, Chloé and Félix would make snide comments against each other, while Marinette and Félix would, well… Claude’s not sure what to call it, exactly. It wasn’t flirting, but it also wasn’t really arguing or getting along.

Just talking, he supposes, which would make this meeting far less awkward.

“I believe you have something to say to me, Dupain-Cheng,” Chloé stated with sharp narrowed eyes, smiling.

Everyone knew that Chloé only stopped referring to Marinette by her first name ever since she stepped down from her position. Claude was under the impression that it would’ve changed once he heard from Félix that Chloé finally won.

Marinette maintained her smile, her lips twitching just the slightest bit as she relaxed her shoulders and fixed her stare on Chloé.

“Congratulations, Bourgeois,” Marinette stated. “You were right; I was wrong. You won.”

He expected as much.

For reasons beyond his comprehension, the Akuma Class believed the liar girl over Marinette for the better part of the year or two — he wasn’t paying too much attention to them, just Marinette given how haggard she was from overwork. It was even more noticeable with how their peers on the student council would always talk about her worriedly.

“I know I am,” Chloé had scoffed, leaning back into her seat as she regarded Marinette with a rather cold look. “That’s not what I was talking about.”

“And what exactly do you want to hear?” Marinette asked incredulously.

Looks like he wasn’t the only one who was confused — even Sabrina and Alix seemed surprised over the statement. Sabrina should’ve known everything about Chloé, and for her to be thrown off by this just goes to show that Claude really was wrong about the Charmante Faction Leader.

“What I want,” Chloé seemed to glare, “is an apology.”

“For what?” Marinette’s brows knit, clear confusion on her face. “For being naïve by not believing you?”

“That, and for your deplorable behaviour,” Chloé practically sneered. “It was disgusting, watching you act beneath your station.”

Alright… now she was definitely matching Claude’s memories of her. Claude was starting to think that maybe Ladybug was actually making a bigger and better positive impact than Adrien Agreste, but he stands corrected.

“Right,” Marinette dryly stated. “You’ve always been the type for extravagance like all the others who prefer to indulge in their wealth. How dare I show such a shameful side of me, for preferring to disregard status. I’d prefer to call it moderation, however. Ah, what was it again? Moderation is key, isn’t it?”

“Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous,” Chloé wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Moderation,” she scoffed, looking at her nails as if to ignore Marinette. “Well, look where moderation brought you. Acting like a mere commoner, lowering yourself as if you were a feeble servant to our peers, becoming not only a doormat, but also becoming a stalker!”

Oh… oh.

Claude suddenly had a feeling that maybe, just maybe, this was becoming personal. It was no wonder why Chloé wasn’t finding delight in Marinette’s defeat right from the get go — something that all of them had been expecting — she was pissed because of Marinette’s former fangirl crush on her friend.

Judging from the look of dawning realization on Marinette’s face, she got the memo.

“I’m sorry,” Marinette stated, looking away from Chloé. She was ashamed, he could tell that much. “I shouldn’t have let myself get so obsessed with the idea of Prince Charming. For what it’s worth, I have made strides to improve myself for the better.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” came Chloé’s clipped reply. “Adrikins is innocent and naïve — he needs someone to snap him out of it like I tried to do for you. I’m waiting until he finally opens his eyes on this whole Liar Rossi thing, because with how much he cares for the simpletons of our class, he’s going to realize that she’s the worst type of person to associate with. What he doesn’t need is to get dragged into your fantasy and unresolved issues — despite the distance, he is still my childhood friend.”

“I get it,” Marinette stated with gritted teeth. “When I realized how kind he was, he…” she sighed, shoulders slumping. “He matched my idea of a perfect prince.”

At this, Chloé leaned back into her seat once more, giving Marinette a glare. “You weren’t using him to get back at Félix for leaving, were you? Considering how similar they look.”

Oh, jeez… Claude didn’t want to hear any of this conversation for plausible deniability, but now he has no choice. This was definitely going to bite him in the ass later, because, well, for starters he’s the only guy here and if Félix says anything, it’ll get traced back to him. Sure, Alix was nonbinary and didn’t care about pronouns, but she was loyal to Marinette to begin with so no worries about breach of privacy there. Félix was unaware of the Marinette’s crush on him from back then, but there’s no doubt he knows now.

(It didn’t help much that Claude was probably the only one in the Quantic Kids who picked up on this whole crush situation. He never said anything to avoid getting on Marinette’s bad side, besides, he thought Félix was only nice to Marinette due to being all businessman-like.)

“Of course not,” Marinette huffed. “Yeah, I wanted to forget Félix, but I didn’t even realize that they were cousins until he came back. Félix is a common name, and I didn’t remember his last name beyond Graham until I saw the film with Adrien’s mother.”

“Hmph. Fine. I’ll accept that for now,” Chloé said, pursing her lips. “I won’t apologize for my words and actions. I’m still far too upset at what you’ve done to him under the guise of friendship to even want to.”

“As long as we’re done airing out our grievances, that’s fine with me,” Marinette smiled. “Now, can we finally move onto what we’re really here for?”

“Hold it,” Chloé cut in. “Sabrina, call our guest.”

“Yes ma’am,” Sabrina complied to the command, pulling out her phone.

“A guest?” Marinette blinked. “You never mentioned that another person was joining us.”

“Why would I waste my time on that when you’re going to be meeting them anyway, Marinette?” Chloé rolled her eyes. “Just wait.”

Claude, who left one of his hands in his hoodie’s pocket with his phone, finally ended the call with Félix before Sabrina could call him herself.

——————————

Nino’s not sure if it’s because he knew, deep down inside, that this was going to happen, but it’s a strange feeling nevertheless. He thinks that maybe he’s heartbroken, maybe numb, but he knows that he’s upset because he did cry in the restroom for several minutes after it happened.

Like ripping off a band-aid — hurts and then it’s fine for a while. Not great, not terrible, but fine.

As much as he didn’t want to, it’s either stick with the herd, or save the rest of his class from further manipulation.

It does hurt, though, knowing that he and Alya won’t be spending time together any more, that she’ll give him back his stuff and he’ll give hers back as well. He’s going to get bombarded with questions from the guys, and he’s not sure if that’s something he’s capable of handling emotionally at the moment.

“Nino…?” Adrien hesitantly called out, frowning with his brows pinched in concern. “Are you okay?”

He doesn’t think he is. On the bright side, he won’t be akumatized until maybe later. Can’t really say the same for Alya who just stomped off, but he expected that.

“Alya and I broke up.”

It was a quiet statement, simple, straight to the point. For the past several minutes, he’s been staring at his phone, trying to decide whether to actually drop Alya’s number like she yelled at him to do.

Huh. How long did he keep Adrien waiting? He hopes it wasn’t too long.

“What?!” Adrien shouted, eyes blown wide as he was very obviously taken aback by the news. “Why?! Don’t you two love each other?”

“We… had a fight,” Nino admits, not really wanting to rehash the last 15 minutes of his study period. But Adrien was his best friend, and he was also Alya’s friend, and Nino wasn’t gonna blind side him by making him feel awkward about hanging out with one over the other. “Rose and I finished our project early during our study period, so I went to go look for Alya.”

He should probably thank Rose for pushing him into doing it, otherwise he wouldn’t have, and then it’d be too late to do anything. She did look worried about him, when she caught sight of him heading towards the restroom, but she was with Juleka who’s been looking really pale lately.

Rose definitely knew how the conversation with Alya was going to turn out, and while he is upset at her for that fact, he knows that it’s not actually her fault.

“Uh huh…” Adrien nodded, looking increasingly worried. “What’d you two talk about?”

“It was about Lila,” he breathed, and he could see Adrien perking up at the mention of the girl. It made him feel terrible, having to break the news that Adrien’s crush isn’t as great as everyone thinks she is.

“What… uh, what about her?”

Like ripping off a band-aid, he had to remind himself. Taking in a deep breath, then letting it go as he steeled his resolve.

“I told her that Lila’s been lying to us. To all of us,” he looked away, not wanting to see Adrien’s heartbroken face. “And Alya… she didn’t believe me. She accused me of still liking Marinette and that’s why I’m siding with her. Stuff about how…” his eyes burned with unshed tears. “Lila’s been telling her a bunch of lies. About how I’m always looking at Marinette when Alya wasn’t looking, that she thought she saw me talking to Marinette after school the other day, that I was standing really close to her, like we were gonna…”

Nino took in another breath, letting it out with a sigh, willing to keep the weight of the heartbreak off his shoulders. He didn’t want to deal with getting akumatized for the day — it always made him feel worse in the aftermath.

It’s already been a bad day.

“What…?” he regrets looking back at Adrien, seeing a look of horror crossing his friend’s face. He hopes it’s for the situation that Nino’s in and not because of Lila’s lies. He didn’t know if he could handle something like that so soon after the breakup with Alya.

“I didn’t expect it either,” he smiled wryly, feeling all the bitterness bubbling up in his chest before suppressing it with a tired chuckle. “I thought that maybe…” he shook his head, his vision blurring. “Well, I guess Lila’s lies were stronger than our relationship, stronger than everything we’ve been through together, apparently.”

And oh, did that admittance hurt. Alya chose to doubt him over Lila, choosing a liar over her own boy—ex-boyfriend. She didn’t want to hear him out, claiming that he wanted to cover his unfaithfulness by throwing Lila under the bus.

“Nino, I’m… I… I know that’s not true—”

“Thanks for believing in me,” Nino gave his best friend a pat on the shoulder. “But I kinda expected this would happen if I talked to Alya about it,” he shot Adrien a weak smile. “I know you like Lila, just… be careful, yeah? I just… I don’t want you getting hurt like I did.”

Adrien said nothing. Nino didn’t blame him. Poor guy was still in a state of shock from what Nino could tell. It did make him feel better, knowing that he still had Adrien on his side if not Alya.

“Thanks for not calling me delusional. I… I know I said that I’d come hang out with you and Kitty Section today, but uh… I’m… not really up for it right now,” he gave Adrien a side hug. “Kinda don’t want to be around anyone from school.”

Maybe he’ll stop by the Dupain-Cheng Bakery on his way home. He could really use the warm hugs he’d always get from Sabine and Tom, and maybe a warm, freshly baked chocolate croissant. They always knew how to make him feel safe and at home whenever he’s had a bad day, and maybe they might have some advice for the heartbreak and—

Ah shit, Nino was definitely crying now.

“See ya tomorrow, dude,” he tugged his cap down and headed off.

Breakups are the worst.

#wynter writes #hbic marinette #fic: elementaire #fic: élémentaire #rich marinette #ml salt fic

[jen-with-a-pen]

Honeysuckle ❀ IV

SERIES ❀ PREVIOUS ❀ NEXT

summary: You and Bucky are getting ready for another one of Stark's Signature Events when Bucky finds out his outfit has been sabotaged. Accident or not, pink just might be his color after all.

pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

warnings: cursing, embarrassed Bucky, the color pink, sam didn't mean it he was just fucking around, outfit descriptions for reader but little to no mention of body description, fluff and closeness and light touching and slight ✨feelings✨

word count: 1.68k

original a/n: yes this was inspired by the pink met gala look. no i will not be taking further questions. also, just like the other parts of Honeysuckle, this is standalone in this lovely little universe i've managed to create. love u all as always ♥ edit a/n: going back through this one was a delight :3 i like seeing how my writing has grown exponentially since first writing these idiots ♥

a/n 04/2024: hi! i have gone through and rewritten and reformatted a few parts in the fic in order to make it flow better and to ensure it has all-inclusive language in it (this was one of my first fics in the fandom and was not as educated as i am now.) if there are any mistakes, please feel free to DM me and kindly let me know :)

divider by @firefly-graphics | gif by @itz-me-aggie | warning banner by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist

Read this fic HERE on ao3! - coming soon to ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

“Bucky, we’re gonna be late!” You called from your perch on the couch. You finally secured the bracelet you’d been struggling with for five minutes when a loud groan answered from behind the cracked bathroom door, followed by a painful, “Goddamnit!” 

You jumped as Bucky’s voice shook his apartment. Cautiously, you rose from the couch and moved to the door, muttered cursing and muffled thuds coming from behind it, freezing when Bucky called your name before you could grab the door handle.

“Uh, yeah, Buck?” You swallowed, nervous, thinking of ways to navigate his tone. You’d never heard him talk like this before. Ever.

Bucky cursed again. “Gah–fuck me– could you go ‘n get Sam?” The icy undertones of his request sent a chill down your spine.

“Wh– Buck, we gotta get going, why would you want–”

“Now, Honey.” 

His demand came stronger than you expected, sending you reeling back from the door. You blinked. He sighed immediately after he checked himself, frustrated, uttering another curse under his breath before trying again.

“Now, Honey, please?” His voice softened, granted there was still an edge to it. You paused, even more confused as to why he wanted Sam, of all people, right this fucking second. The gala was starting in twenty minutes and you were already running behind.

“I– Yes.”

A quiet ‘thank you’ followed you out into the hallway as you made a bee-line for Sam’s quarters. Heel clicks echoed off the tile floor, bouncing off the walls as you quickened your pace, stopping abruptly at Sam’s quarters. You pounded on the door, calling out his name. No response.

“Sam Wilson, get out here, damnit!” You yelled, fists readied for another swing at the door. Just before making contact, the door flew open, revealing one Sam Wilson with a brow cocked and busy hands looping a wine-red tie around his popped collar.

“Damn, Honeysuckle, didn’t know you were capable of using such language,” he tisked. You rolled your eyes.

“Sam, Bucky needs you,” you spat out. Sam paused, brow dropping while a dismissive smirk plastered his face. He didn’t believe you. And, honestly, who would?

Sam scoffs a laugh. “Why? Does he need help oiling his gears?”

He stifled a chuckle but you weren’t in any mood to laugh. You instead lunged, yanking him out into the hallway with you, slamming the door shut. He instantly dropped the act.

“Will you just shut the fuck up and come with me?” You demanded through gritted teeth. For all you knew, Bucky could be suffering from another panic attack. Alone. The mere thought of that made your heart hammer harder. And if being late and Sam’s thick skull hadn’t already pissed you off, that sure as hell did.

“Okay, alright, I’m comin’.” Sam nodded, following you down the hallway, still fiddling with his tie. 

“He’s in there,” you said, pointing to the bathroom door as the two of you entered Bucky’s quarters. Sam led the way, gently knocking on the door.

“Bucky? It’s me, can I come in?”

Not a word was uttered as the door cracked open slowly and a metal-plated arm jutted out, yanking Sam into the bathroom before quickly slamming it closed. You flinched, the small living room settling into silence as you stood outside the bathroom, hands fidgeting with the glittery fabric of your dress. It felt like ages of nothing but incoherent, hushed conversation coming from the other side of the door. At your wit’s end, you were about to yell break the door down yourself when Sam started cackling at the top of his lungs. 

Now you were really confused.

“Honey!” He managed to call between howls. “Get in here!”

You hesitated. Gripping the handle, you cautiously pushed the door open to a scene that was the last thing you could have possibly imagined.

Sam stood by the sink, bent over in stitches while tears brimmed his eyes in futile attempts at trying– and failing– to stop laughing. His suit jacket wrinkled at the waist as he jutted an arm out from his stomach, bracing himself on the countertop. 

“Sam what the fuck–!” you began to scold him, turning your head to Bucky. 

Your jaw dropped.

The hulking ex-hitman stood against the opposite wall with his head bent to the floor, loose strands of hair falling from his slicked-back ponytail. His arms crossed over his chest, failing to cover the source of Sam’s outburst: his bright pink dress shirt. And it wasn’t like a typical white-shirt-got-in-with-the-reds-type pink. No, his shirt was as if a flamingo colored itself with a highlighter and then rolled in cotton candy. Bucky’s face was close to matching the hue perfectly as Sam continued to holler over the bathroom sink.

“Oh! Oh, Bucky,” you cooed, voice wavering as you bit back a smile. You stepped toward him, placing your hands on his sulking shoulders. He dared not to look up from his staring contest with the floor as his face became even more flushed at your touch.

“Hey, Buck,” you coaxed as you gently lifted his chin with a finger, “look at me will ya?”

He sighed, relenting, finally meeting your stare. Baby blues beamed right through you as he held your gaze with sad, puppy-dog eyes you couldn’t resist looking away from.

“How did this even happen?” You questioned him, and Sam, looking between them.

“I asked Sam for help doing my own laundry,” Bucky groaned, “and he told me to just throw everything in. Even the reds ‘n whites.” 

“Sam!” You whipped around, shooting daggers as your grip tightened on Bucky’s shoulders. 

“What? He asked, I helped!” he defended. “Didn’t think he’d actually take me seriously!”  Sam wiped away a tear as he caught his breath, smoothing out his suit. Utterly speechless at the minimal amount of brain cells Sam apparently possessed, and empathetic to Bucky’s situation and sweet, sweet naivety, you sighed as thoughts raced to think of ways to remedy the situation so you all could at least show up by the end of cocktail hour because you really fucking needed a drink.

You looked to Bucky, chewing your lip, searching his features for an answer. Then it hit you.

“Wait here,” you ordered, “both of you.” You pointed to Sam as you made way to the elevator in the hallway as fast as your heels could carry you. Once on your floor, you sprinted into your apartment, hurrying to your closet in search of the dress you remembered immediately dismissing when Wanda was helping you choose what to wear for that night. Something you’d never be caught wearing ever, especially at such a public event. With cameras. And strangers.

Do it for Bucky, do it for Bucky, do it for Bucky.

You stripped your old dress off, leaving it on the floor of your closet as you wiggled yourself into the 'eye sore of the century’– your words, in contrast to Wanda’s literal heart eyes when you’d tried it on– and prayed to anything holy that this would make Bucky feel better.

You raced out the door and back into the elevator, hoping F.R.I.D.A.Y. was the only one to see you. So far.

“Man, hey,” Sam nodded to Bucky, who still refused to look him in the eye. Sam rolled his eyes, heart filling with just a tad bit of guilt for messing with him. 

“Buck–”

“Don’t call me Buck.”

“Okay, you know what? I’m sorry. There, ya happy?”

Bucky grunted in response, shifting his weight as he continued to analyze the tiled flooring.

“Bucky, c’mon, I–” Sam stopped mid-sentence, interrupted as the bathroom door whipped open, revealing you standing in the threshold. Your arms crossed over your chest holding a black suit jacket. A bubblegum pink midi dress complete with a multitude of sequins hugged you as you waited for Bucky to notice. Sam sure as hell did.

“Bucky– Honey– Woah.” Sam straightened, adjusting his tie and buttoning his jacket.

Sam’s reaction snapped Bucky out of his trance. His eyes skimmed from the floor to your heels, eyes growing wider and wider as he made his way up to meet your sharp gaze. Without hesitation, you cocked a hip and threw the jacket at him. He caught it, confused, bewildered, utterly mesmerized. Still clueless, however, he looked down at it then back at you. If he didn’t know any better, he’d be drooling. 

“C’mon Buck, get dressed or we won’t make it in time for cocktail hour,” you huffed, tapping at an imaginary wristwatch. 

Bucky gulped. A deer in headlights. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught sight of the biggest grin breaking out on Sam’s face. Without another word, he placed a quick peck on your cheek and snuck past you, closing the door. Finally, Bucky seemed to snap back to reality and did as you asked. He swung the jacket over his broad shoulders, adjusting the cuffs and moving to the mirror. You stepped behind him, observing him over his shoulder as he adjusted his tie. 

“You didn’t have to do this, ya know,” he muttered, his small smirk quickly growing across his lips.

“Yes, I did,” you replied, grabbing his waist and spinning him towards you. Manicured fingers reached for his collar, adjusting it as you locked eyes with him. You offered a soft, genuine smile as you tucked a loose lock of hair behind his ear. He returned with one of his own, a free hand finding its way to your waist while your own slid down to stay on his cheek. Your thumb softly stroked his cheek, smooth from when he shaved that morning. In that moment it was as if you were pulling each other closer and closer with each passing second, the air magnetizing as hands lingered for seconds longer than you both were used to. 

In this light, something inside of you screams at how handsome he is.

You ignore it, though, instead suddenly remembering you both had a gala to get to.“Now, let’s go,” you said, dragging him out of his apartment. “I need a damn drink.”

#jen writes #honeysuckle anthology #honeysuckle fic #buck n honey #bucky x y/n #sam wilson #fluff #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x f!reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fic #bucky fluff #mutual pining #sebastian stan #sebastian stan characters #the winter soldier #winter soldier x reader

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Hiii Space!!

I love love love your planet personifications and I was wondering what the lore surrounding moons and other celestial objects (asteroids, comets, etc) is in your Milky Way fandom?? And also also are you comfortable with people making fan characters/oc’s for your Milky Way fandom creation?? (These two questions do actually go hand in hand, I promise haha!!)

- your most cringefail selfshipping follower, Ezra <3

howdy!

i've actually designed a lot of other objects, include moons, stars, nebulas, etc. i thinnnnk the current count is around 55 characters.

now moons are pretty diverse. the main thing that classifies them as "moons" is just the fact that they orbit a planet (or a dwarf planet or even an asteroid). bc of this, my moon characters as just as diverse. all of the major ones are humanoids (titan, luna, ganymede, europa, etc.) while most of the smaller ones are personified as animals that the planet associates with (mars has two dogs, jupiter has birds, saturn has reptiles, uranus has rodents/bunnies, neptune has fish/amphibians, and pluto has cats). there are a few exceptions tho (like jupiter's inner 4 moons are very small in size, but are personified as little girls). don't have too many good drawings of them, but here's titan, luna, and ganymede!

the relationship a moon will have with their planet also varies. for jupiter moons, its more familial. for earth and luna, they're very close friends. for saturn moons, the relationship is a little more professional. etc. etc.

as for asteroids, they kinda follow similar rules to moons on if they're a humanoid, and smaller asteroids will be animals or monsters. they kinda just vibe in the solar system lmao. the asteroid belt is led by ceres, the "queen of the asteroid belt". she has a big rivalry with jupiter, who tends to bully her asteroids lmao.

comets are similar again. however i kinda always picture them as shitty lil dardevils who swing by the sun just to hurl insults at him hheheheh. living life on the edge.

god i realized ive written so much and i havent even gotten to stars or nebulas yet adghjgasdh uhhhhhhhh

stars are very fun. they all kinda look like sol but with different colors depending on what kind of light they give off (more red, more blue, etc). theyre kinda the "main" population in the universe and are all weird lil guys. in contrast to planets, the follow pretty strict life cycles, turning into red giants when they get old and exploding, with their corpse then turning into a white dwarf, neutron star, or black hole. i tend to picture planets as the most "human" of the personifications, so stars can be kinda weird and a lil more eldritch.

i'll leave nebulas for later lmao, but thats the basic stuff with my little space ocs!

if you do want to make ocs in my little world (been thinking of naming it something like "geocentric" since earth is the main character lmao), go ahead, have fun! just make sure to link back to me. but of course, the milky way fandom is fairly big with a lot of folks making their own interpretations of the planets, so if ya instead wanna make your own thing outside of my oc world, go nuts!

#asks #text #planet personification #selfindulgentfandomstuff #big lore dump lmaoooo #//long post