#but even with all that contact they’re still maintaining secret identities and are meant to not pry into each other’s lives

[daydreamerdrew]

The Avengers (1963) #10

#stopp not the Wasp’s position being compared to Rick’s who is a young powerless relatively-inexperienced sidekick #‘Why don’t we make his membership in the Avengers official as the Wasp’s is?’ #is her membership unofficially less legitimate? #I thought we were just going with that she was a full part of the team but in execution was less important in fight scenes #also I noted before that the Avengers requiring that members always be available to help on missions whenever called #and it being a big deal if you miss even one mission #means that members have to be in contact a lot and tell the others when they go out of town and stuff #but even with all that contact they’re still maintaining secret identities and are meant to not pry into each other’s lives #which means that conversations are kept kind of vague #and here we see something that Steve clearly has a lot of emotions about discussed in the formal setting of a team meeting #I think that there’s a tension there between the commitment and loyalty and emotional investment #and also distance and formality that membership in the Avengers requires #that could be really interesting if explored in more depth #like they’re friends but they also have rules that they enforce punishments on others for breaking #like not being allowed to participate for a week #and as an aside this all seems very tied to the technology of the era #like I remember in the A:EMH cartoon the Avengers had their own impressive planes at the mansion #but the creative team here is not dreaming quite that big yet #the Avengers have to go to the airport #when Janet and Hank went out of town for a bit a few issues ago Thor was there to see them off in the plane #and they had to tell him how they’d be available to contact through radio #how characters travel and communicate isn’t so simple as I believe it’s portrayed in modern comics #but the specific procedures that that requires seems to me to be pretty integral to how these relationships and team memberships work #which is why that you’re apparently meant to reimagine these comics in a modern setting trips me up #the specific context is important and can’t just changed and not impact the story in any way #marvel #steve rogers #rick jones #my posts #comic panels

[phis-corner]

demon’s daughter

I decided to re-open the taglist for this fic because I am sometimes a pushover, so now you can either ask or comment to be on the fic’s taglist or the permanent taglist! 

Additionally, I have no consistent update schedule. My first draft is written by hand- I always like to stay two chapters ahead, so I posted this chapter when I finished copying chapter 5 into a Google Doc and proofreading.

Also, fun fact: I hate chocolate. My senses just do not like it at all. I also have a very sensitive tongue and can taste the barest hint of spiciness in foods, which also means I have zero spice tolerance whatsoever. As a Chinese-American with family in Sichuan, this means I get force-fed a lot of extremely spicy foods anyway.

Masterlist Chapter 1 Chapter 2 [Chapter 3] Chapter 4

“Why are you letting them stay? He tried to kill Dick!” Timothy points at Damian, who glowers at him from across the cave as Alfred stitches Richard’s cuts.

Marinette sighs. “Akhi was not trying to murder Richard. If you paid more attention, you would notice that all of Richard’s wounds are carefully placed in non-lethal areas meant to slow him down instead of severely injuring him.”

Batman does not say a word. He hasn’t spoken since Richard called him to verify their claims.

“They were raised as assassins, Timmy. It’s normal that they’d feel threatened a lot, and act accordingly. They’re family now. Give them a chance.” Richard replies, and Marinette blinks. She did not expect to have Richard defend them so easily.

“Pardon me,” She pipes up. “But ‘they’ are currently present.”

“Right. Sorry.” Richard has the sense to look guilty. Timothy just glares.

Damian squeezes her hand three times, their signal for I would like to leave. Marinette sighs as she exits the Batcave. Being accepted into the family is… a work in progress.

.o0o.

Slade is put into Blackgate not long after with the information Ubu gave after being interrogated by the Bats. Damian and Marinette were not allowed to go. 

Too young, Richard had said. They had interpreted that as You cannot be trusted to keep him alive. He did make the right call though. Damian would have tried extremely hard had he gotten the chance.

Of course, the League did dispose of him not long after anyway, but it was the thought that counted.

Damian and Marinette spent their days in the Manor sparring, reading, or practicing their instruments. Richard, who seemed determined to bond with them, bought them both new sketchbooks, for Damian’s drawings and Marinette’s designs. She had discovered an affinity for clothing design while undercover on a mission, and had been designing ever since.

Cass (she insisted that they call her that instead of Cassandra,) was always happy to spar when asked, and although nobody ever defeated her, it was a welcomed challenge to fight someone who knew your every move, sometimes even before you did. Damian grudgingly admits she is a worthy sister, which makes Marinette smile and Cass beam.

Jason had his own home and only visited every once in a while, and Timothy was rarely seen. It didn’t help that Damian continued to make snarky comments whenever they did see him, but if Timothy was scarce, Father was practically nonexistent.

Since they came to the Manor, their father has said a total of two words to the both of them, and that was just their names when he exited his study as they passed by.

Marinette is determined to make her new family work, and so when she finds Timothy completely by accident, typing away on a laptop in one of the less-used rooms in the Manor, she takes a chance.

“You do know we are not trying to replace you, right?” She asks softly, sitting down in an armchair and deliberately not making eye contact with him. 

Timothy snorts. “But is that not what you’re doing? Bruce chose to take in everyone else. I had to blackmail him into letting me be Robin. And then the biological kids show up, born and raised like fucking royalty, so who would care about Tim Drake? The little kid whose parents didn’t even want him and his neighbor only adopted him because he knew his most well-kept secret.”

“We have more in common than you think.” Marinette says quietly.

“Yeah, right.” Timothy laughs bitterly. “The Princess of the League-”

“I wasn’t.” Marinette interrupts.

“Huh? But-”

“I wasn’t the Princess.” Marinette keeps her voice calm with considerable effort. “As soon as I was born, Ra’s gave me over to Lady Shiva. He declared me unworthy because I was a girl, and I was raised as the lowest-ranked assassin. I may have been Shiva’s protege, but that just meant she went even harder on me. I did not know even my last name until after my first death when I was five. I did not properly meet my brother until last year. Ra’s decided that I could be acknowledged, but maintained his stance on feminine inferiority.”

She chuckles hollowly. “You fear being replaced by your father figure’s biological children, Timothy. But your fear is unwarranted. Bruce Wayne chose to adopt you, because he is a good man with copious amounts of generosity. However, it evidently does not extend to his biological children. Talia dumped us at Batman’s feet and left without another word, without looking back. And Father? We may have been a complete surprise, but he has said two words in total to us since that first night- our names. You need not worry, Timothy. You shall not be replaced.”

Marinette stands, her message conveyed, and pauses in the doorway of the room. 

“Have a good afternoon, Timothy.”

The next day, Marinette and Damian watch on live television as their father is killed by Darkseid.

.o0o.

The funeral for Batman is somber. Everyone cries except for Marinette and Damian.

She thinks they should be crying, but Marinette simply didn’t know her father well enough to really mourn him. Damian squeezes her hand, and she squeezes back. The twins stand, faces carefully blank, shoulders straight and unmoving, like rocks in an ocean of tears.

Crime in Gotham runs rampant when they think Batman is gone, and so Richard becomes Batman out of necessity- and chooses her twin brother as his Robin.

Nobody else sees how it crushes Timothy, because Cass has left for Hong Kong, abandoning Batgirl and making her own identity as Black Bat. Jason is holed up in a safehouse somewhere, Richard and Damian are in their own little world as they prepare for their first patrol together, and Alfred needs time to mourn too.

So she finds herself knocking on the door to Timothy’s room, one hand holding a plate of sandwiches and a freshly brewed coffee because he hasn’t left his room since the funeral. Marinette quietly enters upon his muffled “Come in” and sets the plate down next to Timothy, whose eyes are red-rimmed and have even larger bags than normal, and yet he continues to work.

“I… noticed you have not come out to eat, so I brought some food and fresh coffee. Black.” She adds, after a moment of hesitation.

“Thanks.” Timothy mumbles, immediately going for the coffee. “Why are you doing this?”

Marinette shrugs. “Everyone else was caught up in their own situation and had issues to work through too. I am relatively unaffected by the circumstances and therefore my observation skills have not declined.” She says simply. “You should also eat. I will not stop you from drinking the coffee, but you cannot work on an empty stomach, either.”

He begrudgingly eats a sandwich, still typing away at his laptop all the while. Marinette notes the tension in his frame.

“Would you like to talk about it? I have read that venting is significantly better for one’s mental health than keeping it bottled up.” She offers.

Timothy suddenly slams the laptop shut, hard, but Marinette doesn’t flinch. The reaction was trained out of her a long time ago. 

“It’s not- it’s- my entire life, I’ve been trying to prove myself. Robin was- Robin was special. I wasn’t the first Robin, but it was a reminder that I was worth something to someone, that I could do good and be useful. And then Bruce dies, Dick becomes Batman, and he just names Damian as his Robin like my opinion on the matter meant nothing, booting me out of the position, without any semblance of an explanation and-” He breaks off into sobs.

The sight of somebody crying makes Marinette more than a little awkward, because what is she doing? She doesn’t know how to comfort a crying person, but she does know that Timothy was touch-starved as a child. However, she isn’t the most touchy-feely person on the planet either, so she just settles for rubbing his back as he lets it all out.

Once he’s run out of tears, she silently hands him the tissue box she plucked from his desk. 

“Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, you are not worthless.” Marinette says sternly. “Nobody is worthless, and you are far from being anywhere near so. You are the cleverest and most intelligent of us all, a capable, quick-thinking strategist, and you have detective skills that rivaled Father’s. I believe Richard chose Damian as Robin because Robin is always supposed to be Batman’s sidekick. He is always taken under Batman’s wing because there are things he hasn’t learned, that Batman can teach him. Richard sees you as an equal, and therefore cannot keep you as his Robin because you have graduated the mantle. It is time you created a new identity and moved on. Do you have anything in mind?”

Timothy sniffs once. “Thank you. I really needed that. And as for the ideas,” He reaches over and pulls out a sketchbook, a smile spreading across his face. “I’ve got a few.”

.o0o.

They brainstorm ideas for almost three hours before Timothy falls asleep. Marinette easily carries his light frame to his bed and drapes a blanket over his shoulders before quietly exiting his room.

Thankfully, she managed to convince Timothy that the cowl was a terrible idea. Marinette returns to her own room for her sketchbook. Batman and Robin will have each other’s backs. But Red Hood works alone, leaving Red Robin with nobody to watch his back.

Timothy is Marinette’s brother too, and everyone else is headed into the field anyway. She, like Damian, also had the phrase ‘justice, not vengeance’ drilled into her head, and Richard had made sure to remind them daily to aim for non-lethal spots. Not that she planned on taking a life ever again anyway.

Marinette flips open her sketchbook to a bookmarked page and smiles. It seems that Starling would be making an appearance very soon.

.o0o.

It is almost time for Richard and Damian’s first patrol as Batman and Robin. Marinette heads downstairs to wish them well, but freezes at the sight of her twin in Timothy’s old suit.

“This is unacceptable!” She screeches, hurrying forward and looking pleadingly at Richard. “You cannot let akhi out into Gotham looking like a traffic light!”

Richard frowns, as does Damian. “But you never had a problem with Tim wearing it.”

“Tt. Timothy had little to no prior experience in combat before being trained as Robin. Damian has been trained to utilize the shadows in combat since birth. Wearing those bright colors will make him stand out and put him at a disadvantage.” Marinette tuts, already scribbling out a new design in her sketchbook.

“Then what do you suggest, ukhti?” Damian asks.

“I have a design in mind. The colors will stay, but the yellow and green will have to be significantly darker, and the red should be dulled as well. Sadly, you will have to wear that monstrosity tonight, but I can have the suit finished in time for patrol tomorrow, as will mine and Timothy’s new suits.” She replies, not glancing up from her book.

“What do you mean, Marinette?” Richard questions, and Marinette feels a tiny twinge of annoyance at how he handled telling Timothy about Robin.

“I mean that Timothy and I have crafted new identities as well. You did not expect him to just stop fighting crime, or for me to just sit at home while everyone else carried out Father’s mission, did you?”

Damian nods, a small smile pulling at his lips. “It will be nice to see you in the field too, ukhti.”

“What will your names be?” Richard prods curiously.

“I will not tell you just yet.” Marinette smirks. She shows her twin the finished design. “Does this look alright, akhi?”

“It looks wonderful, ukhti.” Damian replies. “Thank you.”

She sniffs. “Well, somebody had to fix the lack of fashion sense in this household eventually.”

.o0o.

Everyone else in the family may use capes, but Marinette decided that Richard’s Nightwing suit was by far the best because of its lack of one. Capes were long, heavy, a waste of fabric, and overall useless.

The Starling suit was primarily black, with a dark emerald mask covering the lower half of her face (because why carry a gas mask and rebreather when it can be built in?) with gloves and boots in the same color. A single silver star with curved sides was splayed on her chest, and a dark green utility belt rested on her waist. Her steel war fans had holsters strapped to her thighs.

All in all, the suit was built for the shadows. Marinette had learned to master slipping through the dark, unseen, and Gotham was the perfect place to utilize that. Starling would be nothing more than a ghost, a legend, if she had her way. After all, the less citizens knew, the less likely the information would hit the underworld, and that way, the vigilantes wouldn’t have all their cards out in the open.

Damian looks much better in his new suit as well, and Timothy is also grinning when he steps out of the male’s changing room. (A/N: the new 52 suit. I’m not letting him out of the Cave with that ugly cowl, or the traffic light costume with an extra R. Don’t even get me started on the Drake one.)

Richard, cowl still down, smiles as bright as the sun itself. “Good to see you, Robin. Tim, Marinette, can I ask your names?”

Timothy fastens his domino. “Red Robin.”

Marinette pulls her face mask up and curtsies with perfect posture. “Starling. I wish to work in the shadows, if that is alright.”

Richard puts on the cowl and becomes Batman. “You guys all look amazing.” He grins, and it is unsettling to see Batman smile. Oracle logs into the comms from the Clocktower.

“You all ready?”

They split the city in half. Red Robin and Starling take the North while Batman & Robin will cover the South. 

Starling trails Red Robin from afar, leaping from building to building and only using her grappling hook when the distance is too great to close by foot. They stop four muggings and two attempted assaults, all without Starling being spotted. The criminals think they hit their head on the alley walls or each other instead of her fist from behind.

It’s almost three in the morning when Batman calls it quits and they return to the Cave, changing out of their suits and showering. They are somehow all unharmed, so Alfred sends them up to bed.

Damian and Marinette brush their teeth before climbing into bed and flipping off the lights.

“Tonight was actually quite enjoyable.” Marinette remarks. “It is a nice feeling, to know that you are helping people.”

Damian hums sleepily. “It is good to know that we are continuing Father’s legacy.”

Marinette smiles. “Yes, I suppose so.” She burrows deeper into her blankets. “Sleep well, akhi.”

“The same goes for you, ukhti.”

For once, Marinette doesn’t have a nightmare.

Previous ◈ Next

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Note: some of them didn’t work. I am terrible with technology and have no clue how to fix this.

#maribat #mlb x dc #demon's daughter au #my writing

[echo-bleu]

straight through the smoke (1)

This is my gift to @killiarious for the 2020 Malec Secret Santa Event, now that the gifters’ identities have been revealed! The plot bunny got away from me, so there will be three chapters. Happy holidays!

[CW: death penalty (but no one dies), mentions of self-harm]

Read on AO3.

At the knock at his door, Magnus puts Madzie down on the ground, letting her run to Catarina. She’s been nervous, not quite understanding what’s going on, and she keeps randomly running up to them to hug them. The other warlocks are upstairs on the roof, in a meditative state to maintain the new wards over New York, while Magnus and his best friend stand ready to move the loft and its inhabitants to the Seelie Realm, if worst comes to worst.

He steels himself before opening the door. It’s the middle of the day, so it can’t be Raphael – Magnus just realizes now that he left him in the Institute on his own earlier this morning – and Luke texted him just a few minutes ago that he was still out on patrol. The Seelie Queen is back in her realm with her henchmen. That means that it can only be Shadowhunters.

Alec.

Magnus isn’t ready to deal with him. He’s not sure he’ll ever be ready. Alec lying to him about the Soul Sword, about something that affects Magnus so directly, the safety of his people, isn’t something that Magnus can forgive easily. He understands why Alec did it, and he thinks that with time, he could come to trust Alec again, but he can’t start thinking about it until all of this is over.

And yet he can’t help but worry. Alec is out there, with his siblings and Clary, other people Magnus has come to care for, facing against two monsters. Valentine has proved more than dangerous, and with Jonathan’s help, he may well be unbeatable.

Magnus made the choice to leave them on their own. He chose his people over Alec, and while he would do it again, while he had to do it, the guilt is still eating at him.

He doesn’t know if he feels more hurt or guilty, right now. He feels crushed, more than anything else. He struggles to focus, his thoughts permanently turning back toward Alec. The current stillness, since his warlocks raised the wards, feels like the quiet before the storm, and it has left him with too much time to think.

“What do you—” Magnus starts, opening the door with more force than necessary, but it’s not Alec behind it.

It’s Clary.

“Magnus!” she exclaims as soon as he sees her. She looks twitchy and out of sorts, looking around her before she walks into the loft, almost stepping on Magnus’ feet.

“Biscuit,” Magnus says, forcing his voice to stay cold. He’s too fond of her to be angry, but he really doesn’t want to deal with her right now.

Except that she really seems scared.

“I know I shouldn’t be here,” she says, waving her arms around nervously. “But I had to come.”

Magnus frowns in concern and gently guides her to the living room. Catarina stands up in alarm, while Madzie only looks up from the drawing she’s resumed for a second, unconcerned. Clary, with her small size and her nervousness, doesn’t make a threatening figure. Magnus discretely builds a bubble of silence around Madzie to muffle the sound of their conversations, so she doesn’t hear anything not meant for her little ears.

“Magnus?” Catarina asks suspiciously.

“Biscuit, tell me what’s wrong,” Magnus commands, making Clary sit down in the blue armchair. He waves at Catarina not to worry, but she still goes to stand closer to Madzie, straightening in a defensive posture.

Clary doesn’t even seem to notice. “The Clave took full control of the Institute,” she says. “They...they just stormed in and declared it. They said that the New York Downworld had violated the Accords and—” she trails off, too agitated to speak.

“And what?” Magnus prompts. He feels a leaden weight of anticipation in his stomach. This isn’t good.

“They said that the Downworld Cabinet facilitated it. That Alec—” she meets Magnus’ eyes, panicked. “That Alec colluded with you and betrayed the Clave. Magnus, they’ve arrested him for high treason.”

“What?” Magnus lets out before he can even control his mouth. It feels like a punch to his gut. In all the scenarios he went through, even the darkest ones where Alec got hurt or died by Valentine’s hands, Magnus’ fears were always about the divide between them. Between the Clave and the Seelie Queen, between the Nephilim and the Downworld. Between him and Alec. He never, ever imagined Alec being rejected by his own people.

“They said things about your relationship being unnatural and contaminating the whole Institute,” Clary says sadly. “That it should never have been allowed, that he was a disgrace to all Nephilim.”

Magnus swallows hard. He’s heard these words about himself, of course. He knows how the Clave sees him – barely with any more regard than Valentine himself does. The Circle has never been a true extremist group, not when too many people in power in Alicante agree with them. But to hear this about Alec, for the heinous crime of loving him?

“Where is he now?” he asks.

“In one of the basement cells, I think,” Clary says. “They put all of us on house arrest pending investigation. That means we’re confined to our rooms, essentially. I used a portal rune to come here.”

“If they find out you’re gone—” Magnus starts.

Clary bites her lip. “I know. But I had to do something. I heard them talking. They’ve called off the search for Valentine, and they’re putting Alec on trial today.”

Even Catarina looks shocked at that. Magnus sits down brutally, his legs no longer supporting him. He curses under his breath, if only to let out some of the unbearable tension.

“The Clave’s penalty for high treason…” he mutters.

“Is deruning, or death,” Catarina completes for him. “Magnus—”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like that,” Magnus breathes out. “I had to—I had to keep my people safe, Alec understands that—but he’s a Nephilim, he’s supposed to be safe—” He puts his face in his hands.

“Magnus,” Clary calls softly. Magnus looks up, feeling like he’s being crushed by a weight larger than him. “Before they took him away, Alec told us not to contact you. That you couldn’t do anything.”

Against his will, Magnus lets out a noise that sounds too much like a whimper, struggling to breathe around the knot in his throat. He bites down on his fist, trying to calm himself down.

Even facing his own downfall, Alec would think of him first.

“Then why did you come?” Catarina asks Clary, coolly. She has no lost love for Shadowhunters, and she doesn’t know Clary at all. She knows Alec, though, and she knows how much Magnus loves him.

“Because there has to be something that we can do, and Magnus is the most likely to come up with an idea. We can’t let this happen!”

“This is the Clave we’re talking about,” Catarina says. “It’s not about letting it happen. They do what they decide to do, and they have full authority on their soldiers.”

“Magnus, you defended Izzy last year,” Clary says, turning back to Magnus. “Can’t you do it again?”

Magnus shake his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She barely got free, and only because you had the cup as leverage. And her crime was nothing, compared to this. The Clave is corrupt from top to bottom, Alec won’t be freed by legal means.”

“Then what do we do?” Clary asks.

“Nothing,” Catarina says firmly. Magnus looks up at her, and he can see the compassion in her eyes, but she stands her ground. “There’s nothing we can do. Any move against the Clave will be a declaration of war.”

Magnus stands up and starts pacing along the bay windows. “I think we’re past that point,” he says. “We’re already at war. They’re accusing Alec of complicity in a violation of the Accords, for the sole crime of his relationship with me. They’re not trying to arrest Valentine anymore. I think we have to assume that the Circle and the Clave are working together.”

“And you want to do what?” Catarina shits her stance, putting her hands on her hips. “Storm the Institute? Go head-to-head against the entire Clave? Magnus, you have our people to think about. They’re not going to risk their lives to get Alec back. I know you love him, but is he really worth risking all of them?” she points up toward the roof.

Magnus runs a hand down his face. “I already chose them, you, over him once. I broke up with him because I thought I had to choose between being with him, and the safety of my people.” He pauses. “But that was when I thought he would be safe. This is different.”

Clary wrings her hands, looking between them.

“You’re going to put us all in danger,” Catarina says, looking at Madzie, who is still drawing quietly, oblivious to her surroundings in the way only children can be. She can’t hear them, but Magnus still watches her for a moment to make sure that she’s okay.

“No,” he says. “I’m going to get Alec out of there, but I’m going alone. You’re staying here to keep the wards up and prepare to move to the Seelie Realm.”

“The Institute’s wards have been raised against all Downworlders,” Clary warns. “My portal can probably get you in, but—”

“You forget that I am the one who built these wards,” Magnus interrupts her. “I can get through them. I can deactivate them entirely, if I need to. And no Shadowhunter can get in or out of New York right now.”

“Magnus—” Catarina starts, but Magnus glares at her before she tries to convince him not to go. His decision is already made – nothing will stop him from saving Alec’s life. Not now.

She raises her hand in surrender. “Be careful. Come back to us.”

“I will,” Magnus says. “We will.”

*

Clary’s portal brings Magnus straight to Isabelle’s bedroom, and she steps back out to collect Jace from his own. Isabelle’s red-rimmed eyes widen when she sees Magnus and she saunters up to hug him, but she hesitates at the last moment, letting her arms fall back to her sides.

“Magnus,” she murmurs.

Magnus draws her into a hug. “Biscuit told me what happened,” he says.

“I didn’t know if you’d come,” she whispers brokenly.

Magnus closes his eyes in dismay. “We broke up, but it doesn’t mean I stopped caring.”

“This morning—”

“I was angry, and I was trying to convince myself that I’d made the right decision,” Magnus explains. He’s ashamed of how he behaved at the Cabinet meeting, pretending like he barely knew them, letting the Queen speak for him. He won’t forget Alec’s lost and hurt look any time soon.

Jace and Clary come back at that moment. Isabelle gently pushes Magnus back and steps out of the hug, and Jace sends Magnus a furious glare.

“Calm down,” Magnus says. “I’m here to help.”

“Is that what you call it? Allying with the Seelie Queen? Raising wards around the city that kill any Shadowhunter who tries to leave? Leaving Alec behind?”

“I did what I had to do,” Magnus defends himself coldly. “Alec lied to me. Your people will see mine exterminated without so much as a blink.” He takes a breath to calm himself. “Alexander wasn’t supposed to be arrested. If you want my opinion, you should blame your grandmother. Your Clave.”

Jace almost lunges at him, but Clary holds him back with a hand around his waist. He glares at Magnus some more instead, then turns his back to them and goes to stand by the window.

“You have no idea how he’s been, the past few days, do you?” he says quietly. “When the Inquisitor arrived, he was training. Hand-to-hand, five on one. He refused to use iratzes between fights.”

Magnus takes in a breath. He’s known of Alec’s self-harming tendencies since the beginning of their relationship – how could he not? – but Alec hasn’t had to resort to something this bad in a while.

“Jace, that’s enough,” Isabelle says, just as quietly. “Magnus isn’t responsible for that. Alec’s had a rough year. We all have.”

Jace deflates. He’s absently massaging his parabatai rune with one hand, the other playing with a loose thread on his sleeve. “You’re right,” he says. “It’s been...a lot. And now this.”

“Magnus, I need you to know that—” Isabelle hesitates, biting her lip. “I know why you broke up with Alec, and I get it. He’s heartbroken, but he wants you safe first and foremost. He loves you more than anything.”

“Isabelle, what are you trying to tell me?” Magnus asks, guilt churning in his gut. He doesn’t have the patience for this, not right now.

Isabelle shift from foot to foot, uncomfortable. “Before they arrested him, they gave him the opportunity to renounce you. If he told them your plans and made a public announcement disavowing you and the Cabinet, they would have let him go free and even keep his job. He refused. He didn’t even hesitate.”

Magnus shuts his eyes tightly, his head pounding. “Alexander,” he murmurs in dismay.

Self-sacrificing to a fault. Even when Magnus broke up with him, made it clear that their relationship was over, Alec wouldn’t save his own skin. “He could have done it, bought us time,” Magnus mutters, opening his eyes again. “He had to know that we wouldn’t believe it.”

Isabelle shakes her head. “That’s not Alec. He’ll die for what he believes in. And you’re everything to him. Not just you, but the Cabinet too, everything he’s accomplished to make us better.”

“He once told me that his family was everything to him,” Magnus sighs.

“And you’ve become part of it,” Isabelle says. “It doesn’t matter that you’re not together right now. You’re family.” She puts a hand on Magnus’ shoulder. “That’s why we’re going to get him out. As a family.”

There’s a knock at the door.

“Shit,” Isabelle mutters. “Stay out of sight.” She stands up and, in one smooth move, removes her dress.

“What are you doing?” Jace hisses.

Magnus doesn’t bother averting his eyes. Neither he nor Isabelle are shy when it comes to nudity, and besides, she’s still in her underwear. “Buying us time,” she whispers.

She opens the door brusquely. “What?” she asks, annoyed.

“Whoa,” Magnus hears Raj’s voice. His blood boils. He has no lost love for this Shadowhunter, and if he’s working with the people trying to harm Alec— “What are you doing in here?”

“Changing,” Isabelle rolls her eyes.

“We’re supposed to escort you to the ceremony room,” Raj says. His voice isn’t as assured as it usually is. “The trial is about to start.”

Isabelle closes her eyes. “Already? Raj, what the fuck is going on out there?”

Raj sighs. “I don’t know. They said the warlocks raised wards around the city. We can’t get in or out. They’re expediting the trial, they want to have it done as soon as possible.”

Isabelle clasps a hand over her mouth. “Fuck,” she mutters. “Raj, you know he didn’t betray anyone, right?” She sounds small and vulnerable, and Magnus can’t tell how much of that is an act.

“I don’t like Bane, but Alec’s a good leader,” Raj says. “He doesn’t deserve this. But we can’t do anything. Come on, I have orders. We still have to get Jace and Clary.”

Isabelle runs a hand through her hair. “Give me a minute to get dressed?”

“Okay,” Raj grumbles. “But hurry up.”

Isabelle shuts the door firmly and turns back to Magnus and the others, her panic obvious on her face. “It’s too soon,” she whispers. “This can’t be happening.”

“We can’t get him out now,” Jace says. “There will be too many people. Even you can’t fight several hundreds Shadowhunters,” he adds to Magnus.

“How many of them are loyal to Alec?” Magnus asks, a plan starting to form in his head.

Isabelle bites her lip. “Enough to go against the Clave? I don’t know. Alec is well-liked, but we’re trained to respond to commands. It will be hard to go against direct orders, and many won’t be willing to risk their lives.” She steps back into her dress, quickly pulling it over her body.

“Even if the Inquisitor condemns him for something they know he didn’t do?” Magnus asks.

Jace takes a breath. “Alec is their Head. I’m the Inquisitor’s grandson. If we can show them another path, a clear way for them to follow us without too much danger…”

Isabelle’s eyes light up. “Since Alec became Head, we’ve had a lot of Shadowhunters requesting to be assigned to the Institute because they’re unsatisfied with the Clave, for a variety of reasons. Most of them will see that this whole trial is a sham. And even an expedited trial will take days, days we can spend convincing them. If we time it right, I’d say we can get...maybe a third of them to help.”

“If we time it right?” Clary repeats.

“If they sentence Alec to death,” Magnus understands in a breath. “It has to be last resort. If I can just get Alec out—”

“They’ll chase you wherever you go, and it will paint you in the worst light,” Jace says. “If they can claim that you kidnapped him, it will be an all-out war.”

Before Magnus can answer, Raj pounds on the door. “Isabelle, we have to go!”

Isabelle wrings her hands in anguish and turns to Clary. “Get yourself and Jace back to your rooms before they can see you’re gone. Magnus, can you glamour yourself invisible?”

“Yes,” Magnus nods. “I have to make some calls first, secure us the support of the Downworld. I doubt the Seelie Queen will help, but Luke and Raphael will. They only agreed to this deal with the Seelie Queen because I did.”

Jace’s face contorts in anger briefly, but he doesn’t say anything. This isn’t the time. Clary draws her portal rune in the air. “Go,” Isabelle says. “I’ll see you in a minute.”

Magnus snaps his fingers to call his magic to his hand, ready for the glamour. “When you get there, start passing the word. Be discreet. I’ll handle Alec.”

As Jace and Clary walk through the portal, Isabelle gives Magnus a long look. “You saved me from being deruned once, Magnus, because Alec asked you to. I know you still love him. Can we count on you?”

“If you couldn’t, I wouldn’t be here,” Magnus says coolly.

It seems to convince her. “Then let’s do this.”

#shadowhunters #malec #malec fic #alec lightwood #magnus bane #straight through the smoke #mine #echo's fanfiction #angst #malec secret santa #malec discord server #hmdiscord

[awhitehead17]

We Have Each Other

TimKon, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Hugs, Established Relationship, Fluff.

Summary: When Tim and Kon decide to make their relationship public, they both thought they were prepared for everything about to be thrown their way. It turns out that they really weren’t prepared at all. 

Enjoy! :D

When their relationship first went public, Tim had originally expected the backlash. He mentally prepared himself for the comments he would hear, the scandalous ways the papers would portray him and variety of looks he would receive when he walked through the streets.

When making the decision to publicise their relationship, he and Kon had long and tiresome conversations on making sure they each knew what to expect when it happens. Really, it would have been much easier just to keep it a secret between them, their families and friends but the desire to be together in public and to act normal pushed them to make the decision.

Eventually they got on the same page and Tim sorted out their relationship reveal to the public. With Tim being a Wayne, it didn’t take very long for the news to travel around and soon enough he and Kon became the next topic of gossip. 

Tim had thought he was prepared, he thought he was going to be able to handle everything that came with being in a public relationship with Kon, but he was wrong. He was so very wrong.

Their relationship got publicised just over four weeks ago and despite that time length, he and Kon were still the hot topic of gossip. Tim realised that he hadn’t been prepared, or actually couldn’t take any more of it, when he attended a charity gala with his family within Gotham.

Kon was attending his own party back in Kanas, some sort of annual summer festival that happens each year. Tim would rather be there than here that’s for sure.

They were surround by all of Gotham’s top socialites who were all dressed to the nines in ridiculously expensive clothing. News reporters and photographers were scattered around the room gathering who knows what kind of scandals. Luxurious food was spread widely on a table that stretched as far as one of the walls.

Tim wasn’t new to these things, he despised them but like the rest of his family he has to suffer through them to maintain a civilian identity. At the beginning there were photos, pictures and conversations with reporters before they were partially left along to ‘enjoy’ the gala.

It was at this point, a few hours into the gala, that Tim overs hears a couple socialites talking. He’s pretty sure he was meant to overhear what they were saying because they did not do anything to try and keep their voices low. He makes himself look busy as he watches the room, taking careful sips from his drink as he listens to them chatter.

“I’m surprised he’s keeping up the act.” One of them was saying, a lady in a long blue silk dress.

“Oh I know! I would have thought it was just a phase and he would have moved on from that hillbilly by now.” Another agrees with her, this was a man dressed in a light grey suit.

“What does Wayne see in him anyway? It’s not like he has anything to offer.” The third comments, another woman dressed in a loose, low hanging red dress.

The blue dress lady snorts into her drink, “He’s not bad looking, maybe Wayne keeps him around because he’s good in bed.”

“That must be the only reason why. It’s not like that country bumpkin could ever get anywhere in life or offer anything more to Wayne. No money, jewels, fame, hereditary. Just a nobody from nowhere.”

That was the last straw for Tim. Without meaning to the glass he had been holding smashes in his hand from where he clutched it too tightly in anger. It shatters all over him and his hand causing blood to instantly pool in his palm.

Everyone who had been stood by jumps at the unexpected sound and looks at him with wide eyes, however no one makes a move towards him. He glares at them and gently brushes the glass he can off of his palm. “Excuse me.” He says and makes his leave from the gala to find the nearest bathroom.

As Tim washes his hands, after picking out the glass from his skin (thankfully there was nothing deep and it all should heal within the next week), someone enters the bathroom and leans against the side as they wordlessly watch him. Tim pointedly ignores his older brother, focusing on washing his hands.

After a long moment of silence Dick reaches over and turns the taps off, he grabs a paper towel, takes Tim’s hands in his own and starts dabbing them dry. Tim ignores the way his hands shake in his brother’s grasp.

“What happened Tim?” Dick asks softly, looking at the little cuts on his skin.

Tim swallows and refuses to make eye contact. “They were bitching about Kon and… I just got annoyed. They’re commenting on things they don’t understand. ‘A nobody from nowhere’ those bastards don’t realise what the fuck they’re talking about!”

He takes a breath and frees one of his hands from Dick’s so he could wipe his eyes, hating the fact he’s tearing up over this. He finally looks up at his brother, “Kon’s made the greatest sacrifice anyone ever could and those… snobs have no idea what they’re on about.”

Dick doesn’t say anything, all he does is pull Tim for a hug which he instantly melts into. Having his brother here was comforting but in that moment he wanted his boyfriend. Tim wraps his arms around Dick and clings on tight. “I knew things like this was going to happen but to actually face it… it’s awful and unfair…”

Tim feels Dick press a kiss to the top of his head but again his brother doesn’t say anything which Tim is thankful for. They stay hugging in the bathroom for a long time before Tim gets himself together enough to face the public once again, hopefully they can pull some strings so Tim can get to go home early.

 Unknowingly, while Tim struggles in Gotham, Kon was having similar problems in Kanas.

The annual summer festival of Kanas, a time for lots of baked goods, cheerful music, smiles, fairground rides and Kon was miserable. He was stood just off to the side behind a ‘Grab a duck’ game tent playing with his phone wishing he was anywhere but there.

Tim was in Gotham attending a charity gala with his family, so Kon couldn’t call him like he wanted to. He couldn’t even call Cassie or Bart because they too were busy doing their own things. Ma and Pa were handling their own stall full of Ma’s fantastic baked pies so they couldn’t do anything for him either.

He was just debating on leaving when his hearing picks up on a conversation a group of young adults seem to be having on the other side of the tent. Kon soon recognises them as some of the people he went to school with a couple years ago.

“Have you guys heard about Kent? How he’s now dating a Wayne?” One of them were saying.

“I know! I was so surprised to find that out. I wonder how they met.” Another replies.

“Isn’t it obvious? Kent is obviously with him for the money, simply calling Wayne a sugar daddy.” The third voice snarks.

“I don’t know, he never seemed to be interested in that sort of thing.”

“Does it matter? They’re all rich snobs who think they’re better than everybody else. They throw money away like it’s nothing and actually do nothing with their lives except look down on folks like us who have to work for a living to feed our families.”

“Kent probably doesn’t know any better. I bet Wayne’s just using him for a country fling. Something that he’ll get bored with soon enough and then he’ll be moving on.”

By that point Kon’s had enough. Before he could think better of his actions, he steps out of his hiding place and clears his throat which gains the attention of his previous classmates. They all startle at his sudden appearance and rightfully look embarrassed. They each stutter out something before fleeing.

Once they disappear from his view Kon finds himself shaking with anger. How dare they say those things about Tim. They had no right. They don’t know Tim like he does, all they see is the celebrity persona Tim has to play to hide his identity. Kon wasn’t with him for money, just as Tim wasn’t with him for a fling. Tim and his family are probably one of the down to earth families he’s ever met (despite their flaws of being insane crazy Bat’s) they genuinely care for people and their wellbeing, they do their damn hardest to try and make things right both as Wayne's and Bat’s.

A sudden crack startles him out of his thoughts. He looks down to find his phone now supporting a huge crack across the screen. Kon lets out a sigh, that’s what he gets for forgetting his superstrength, that’s the fourth screen he’s broke in the last month. He fiddles with the device for a moment and is grateful to find that it still works fine. It could have been worse.

Deciding enough was enough Kon makes his leave of the festival. He was done and just wanted to be alone, or be with Tim but that wasn’t an option. He makes a quick detour to tell Ma and Pa he was heading off before leaving the festival to start the walk back. He could fly back, make the trip quicker and easier but he needs some time to think.

He knew that coming out to the public was going to be difficult, he and Tim had long conversations about it and both made sure they were on the same page about the decision. He had thought he was prepared for it, knowing there would be comments and stares about it all. But he wasn’t as prepared as he thought. Even now, weeks later after the initial reveal, things were hard to handle.

It wasn’t fair. People make comments without even knowing anything, they’re always quick to judge without knowing the details.

As he was nearing the farmhouse his phone beeps and Kon is pleasantly surprised to find that it was Tim.

“I know you’re probably busy but can you call me when you get the chance. I left the gala early, I’m back at the Manor.”

Kon instantly goes to hit the call button but hesitates just before he does so. Calling Tim was an excellent idea, he would love to his Robin’s voice right now but there was something even better he could do.

He rushes to the farmhouse and quickly changes his clothes, he scribbles Ma and Pa a note of his whereabouts before taking off for Gotham. There’s a beauty to having flight and superspeed as powers because he makes it to Wayne Manor in record time.

He floats up to Tim’s bedroom window and taps the glass. It takes a few seconds but soon enough Tim’s face appears the other side. Kon watches with amusement as Tim’s expression changes from confusion to relief before he opens the window and allows Kon to climb inside.

Once inside he turns to his boyfriend, “So I thought I’d stop by instead. Better than calling don’t you think.”

That gets a low chuckle from Tim. “Yeah definitely.”

Picking up that something was wrong, Kon frowns, “You okay dude, what happened? Why did you leave the gala early?”

Tim looks away from him in embarrassment and fiddles with his hands which Kon is now only noticing that one of them is bandaged. He steps forward and gently grabs it with his own. “Tim?”

Tim moves their hands so they can lace all of their fingers together, “A glass smashed in my hand, caused my palm to bleed. Nothing major and it’ll heal within a couple days.”

Kon feels like there was more to the story but he doesn’t push. Instead he unwinds their hands to wraps his arms around Tim, to hold him close and rest his head on top of Tim’s because it was the perfect height to do so. In return, Tim melts into the hug and slings his arms around Kon’s sides and hugs him back.

“They were making comments about you and I got angry.” Tim admits a moment later. “They said some stuff which they didn’t have a right to and I lost my temper, I accidentally smashed the glass I was holding and thankfully Dick managed to pull some strings and got us to leave early. I wanted to see you.”

Realising how similar his story was to Kon’s, Kon squeezes him and presses a kiss to his head. “Y’know I had a similar situation just now too,” he laughs lightly, “Some people I went to school with made comments they had no right to. Making judgments without any relevant details.”

It goes quiet between them as they hold one another, basking in the comfort they can provide for each other in ways no one else can. Eventually Tim breaks the silence, he pulls away from Kon to peer up at him, “Did we make the right choice about going public? Everything is just shit since we did.”

Kon contemplates this for a moment, of course he’s wondered that himself. Hell most of the time he wishes they didn’t say anything at all. In the end he reaches up to stroke Tim’s cheek and says, “I don’t know. We could have kept going on like we were but how long until someone unwanted caught us and then outed us in the way we didn’t want? It’s just the waiting game until something new comes up I guess.”

Tim hums and leans into his hand. “Unfortunately.” He looks up at Kon, making eye-contact, “Y’know I love you right. No matter what. What they say isn’t true, I’m with you because I love you for you and nothing else. They have no idea what you’re capable of and how amazing you are.”

Kon heart swells at the pride he hears in Tim’s voice. He also wonders about what kind of comments were made against him for Tim to say those things.

“And you know that I love you to right? Not because of what your name is, or who you are to the public but because you’re an amazing person who wants to do the right thing no matter what. A person who wants to help others even if it means getting hurt yourself. You’re the guy who’s been by my side my entire life, and Bart of course, and I couldn’t imagine anyone else meaning so much to me as much as you do.”

Tim smiles at him, “They have no idea what they’re talking about do they?”

Kon grins too, “Absolutely not. We’re in this together and we’ll get through it like everything else we do. We have each other and you know what Tim, fuck everyone else.”

Everyone who doesn’t know them can comment all they want, but at the end of the day Kon and Tim have one another, they both know it no matter what. That alone is enough.

#Tim Drake #Kon-El #timkon #fanfiction #hurt and comfort #love #Hugs #established relationship #bit of fluff #they just love each other okay #dick grayson

[need-a-fugue]

We Grow Together (8)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Summary: Relationships can be tough, especially when one person is a recovering-from-being-brainwashed-and-tortured former assassin and the other is an overworked mutant scientist. But hey, every couple has their struggles. Right?

Warning(s): some angst, some emotional and mental turmoil… some bad language words… much fluff

Chapter Summary: The world has been saved - check that off the list. Now it’s time to start planning for the future. But why does that feel so much harder than fighting a killer robot army? Luckily, Natasha’s around to talk some sense and help screw Tessa’s head on straight.

“I am not freaking out!” she shouts at the redhead before downing the shot of bourbon in front of her. She makes a pinched face as the brown liquid sets fire to her insides, then she holds out the tiny glass and shakes it, begging for a refill.

Natasha goes into the cabinet and pulls out two lowball glasses before settling in beside Tessa on the couch. She delicately folds her legs beneath her, leans forward to pour a few fingers into each glass, and hands one to Tessa. “I’m not judging,” she says slowly as she leans back.

With everything that’d been going on lately, most of the team has been pretty damn frazzled. The world didn’t end, which felt like a win. But a lot of innocent lives were lost when Sokovia was attacked. Jarvis got a body and became something… more, which everyone still seemed to be a bit on the fence about. Ultron was defeated. And all of the Avengers survived the battle, some coming out the other side in better shape than others. But the recovery and cleanup had only just begun, and man was it going to be a bitch to get through.

After Ultron and the other killer bots destroyed a good chunk of the tower, Tony had sped up the timeline on moving the Avengers’ home base upstate. Which meant that almost everyone was having to pack up their lives and slowly transition into the half-finished space. Natasha knew it was worse for Tessa because she had to move an entire lab and get to work on designing the new med floor, which Tony only just mentioned to her last week. And there was the more personal issue of deciding on living arrangements in the new compound – which apartment layout to get, what view was preferred, the types of amenities, and of course whether or not to take on a roommate.

For as long as Nat had known Tessa – and that was, what, four years now? – she had never known her to actually date anyone, not for more than a couple of months at a time anyway. But now she had a notorious assassin staying at her place nearly every night. And while they made no secret of their affair, they never actually publicly admitted to being in a relationship, let alone being in love. Even though both were painfully obvious.

“So…” Natasha starts, casually drawing out the word.

Tessa just looks at her with a confused quirk of her head. “So what?”

“Maybe you’re not freaking out, but you’re obviously upset. So…”

She takes a long, deep breath and leans back into the couch with her bourbon in hand. “I don’t know. I’m just… stressed out.”

Natasha lets loose with a small snort. “You thrive on being stressed out. You wouldn’t know how to slow down and relax if someone put you into a coma.” Tessa ducks her head and smiles a bit bashfully, knowing full well that Nat’s words describe her to a tee. “So what’s really bothering you? Because I feel like you’ve been… off for a while now.”

“Since Ultron, you mean?” she asks, sarcasm dripping.

“Yeah, since Ultron.” Natasha shifts into the couch and purses her lips as she thinks of something. “Since the thing with Wanda, really.”

Wanda. There is that. Tessa had gone along with the Avengers to Africa in large part because of the enhanced girl who had the ability to manipulate energy. From the rather limited amount of data that they had at the time, she was confident that the girl’s powers would be no match for hers. Turns out she was wrong. And Wanda was able to fry her brain just like the others.

“I hate that she’s here,” she mumbles into her glass as she finishes off the liquor.

Nat reaches over to hand her the bottle. “She’s just a kid.”

“A kid who tried to kill us and fucked with all our heads.”

“Not Clint’s.” Natasha sips at her drink as she pulls at a loose thread on her yoga pants. “I think he’s ready to adopt her.”

“Good. He can take her home with him.”

Nat gives her a questioning look. “You’d rather have her out in the world right now? With no one to help her hone her skills? She’s dangerous.”

“And we’re going to make her less dangerous?”

“You could.”

“Jesus,” Tessa sighs dramatically. “You sound like Steve.”

Natasha laughs. “Yeah, he said he was working on you.”

“Harassing me, you mean?”

“He thinks you’re the best one to help her, and honestly, he’s right. Your abilities are so similar… no one can identify better with what she’s going through.”

“What she’s going through?” She makes no attempt to hide the disdain in her voice. “She asked someone to experiment on her. She wanted powers so that she could exact revenge.”

“And now she has those powers and she doesn’t know what to do with them. Look, I’m not 100% sold on her either. But she’s here. She’s trying to make up for what she did. And she could be a huge asset to the team.”

Tessa gives a psh and downs some more of her drink.

Nat gives her an assessing look, gazing intensely at her friend for a long moment. “What did she do to you?” she finally asks.

“What do you mean?”

“That day, at the base, she really fucked you up,” she says, no question to her voice.

Tessa looks away as she replies, “She fucked all of us up.”

“Yeah, but I think the rest of us kind of got over it.” Tessa leans forward, reaching for the bourbon, and Natasha stops her, grabbing her hand when she wraps it around the bottle. “What did she show you?”

Tessa looks up into Nat’s eyes, sees that she’s truly interested in knowing, in helping. Natasha isn’t exactly a gossip. She’s usually more than content to be left out of other people’s drama. So the fact that she’s pressing her right now shows how much genuine concern the woman feels for her. “My sister,” she says simply, falling back into the couch cushions.

“Did you see her die?” she asks without preamble.

Tessa shakes her head and squints as though she’s trying to recall. “No. Not really. I just… saw her.” She takes a long pause, a confused and almost pained look on her face. “It was that night, though. The night she killed herself. But…” She shakes her head again, this time her eyes are tightly closed like they’re desperately trying to block something out.

“But what?” Natasha asks, extending her hand and slowly, softly beginning to stroke Tessa’s arm.

When she opens her eyes, they’re glassy and paler green than Nat’s ever seen them. Maybe it’s the bourbon. Maybe the lack of sleep and the abundance of stress. Maybe it’s the thought of a long-lost sister that she never talks about. “I wasn’t there.” She locks eyes with Natasha and repeats, “When she did it, I wasn’t there.”

“Okay,” she says, encouraging her to go as she maintains the delicate eye contact.

“But in the… vision… I was there. And I saw her.” She shakes her head and huffs out a breath. “But in the mirror. I saw her in the mirror.” She looks away quickly, almost seeming embarrassed by her words.

This time, when Tessa goes for a refill, Nat lets her have it. “You were twins, right?” She nods as she takes a long sip from her now half-filled glass. “Identical?” Another nod. Natasha leans back and sighs. “Well, that kind of makes sense, right? Our worst fears, our worst memories… that’s what she called to the surface. It makes sense that you’d regret not being there, and that in this… dream –”

“No,” Tessa interrupts quickly. “No, it wasn’t like that. It was… I don’t know how to explain it. I was her. I was Anna. And it didn’t feel… weird or anything. It felt… real.” A sudden shiver takes over her body. “I think…” but she can’t quite finish the thought. Instead she shakes her head again and then shakes out her arms to rid herself of the chill that suddenly overtakes her body. “Never mind. Just… forget it.” She looks up and takes note of the concerned look on Natasha’s face. “Let’s talk about something else. Can we talk about something else?”

Natasha changes her expression on a dime, going from worried frown to sly smirk. “Okay,” she starts. “Are you and the soldier gonna make it official?”

Tessa rolls her eyes. “I’m not sure what official means.” She shifts in her seat, seeming antsy and self-conscious. “I think… it sounds like we might share an apartment. I guess actually live together.”

Nat finishes the rest of her drink and sets the glass down on the coffee table. “You’re okay with that?” she asks, voice thoughtful and sincere. “That’s what you want?”

She shrugs. “It makes sense. He spends the night most nights anyway. It’d be dumb to give him his own place if he’d hardly even use it. And he doesn’t want to keep living with Steve… he deserves his own space back.”

She cocks a brow and gives a gentle mm-hmm. “And how does Steve feel about all of this?”

“Oh, mother Steve is very upset.” Tessa nods dramatically.

“Is he?” she mocks.

“He told James that if he loved me, then he’d marry me and not make me live in sin.” She takes one last sip and sets her glass down beside Nat’s. “They haven’t talked in two days.”

“Damn. I did not know that.” Natasha leans forward and takes Tessa’s hand. In a low, serious tone, she asks, “Is he making you live in sin?”

Tessa holds the eye contact for as long as she can before collapsing into a fit of hysterics. “Oh God,” she says through the laughter. “Will you save me?”

Natasha chuckles softly, which is about as emotive of a laugh as she ever allows. “Sounds like Steve’s already trying.”

“It’s dumb,” she says lightly, shaking her head as the giggles subside. “I know it is. We’re together all the time. He stays at my place all the time.”

“You’re completely in love,” Natasha supplies. Tessa gives her an incredulous side eye. “You’re not fooling anyone, golubushka. Sleeping with the man is one thing, but it’s so obviously way past that. And it has been for a long ass time.”

“I feel like I need wine to continue this conversation,” she says, hauling herself up off the couch and heading into Nat’s kitchen. She goes straight to the cupboard in the corner and pulls out two glasses before eyeballing the wine selection on the second shelf. “It’s so weird to me that the Black Widow’s taste in wine goes from sweet to practically Kool-Aid,” she mumbles, mostly to herself.

“There’s a Riesling in the fridge, you lush,” Natasha shouts from the other room.

Tessa wrinkles her nose. “Of course there is.” But her near disgust doesn’t stop her from grabbing the mostly full bottle of wine from the refrigerator and pouring two giant glasses.

“You know,” Nat starts, accepting the glass of wine as Tessa settles back onto the sofa, “Mixing bourbon and wine is rarely a good idea.”

“I’ve done worse,” she counters with a shrug.

Natasha raises a single brow as she looks at her friend with a smirk. “So… where were we?”

Tessa offers another shrug. “I love him, sure.”

“Sure? That does sound like love.”

“Feelings aren’t the problem.” She turns to face Nat, curling her leg up underneath her and throwing one arm over the back of the couch. She locks eyes with the redhead. “Relationships,” she says, a sort of fear and awe twisted into her voice. “That’s the part I suck at.”

“Don’t we all?” Natasha offers with a small smile. “We live strange lives here.”

“Even before here,” she says with a slow shake of the head. “I’ve always been… single minded.”

“You’re heading up the medical research lab for Stark Industries. You’re the official physician of the Avengers. And you’re not yet thirty. You don’t get here without being single minded.”

“A workaholic, you mean.”

“How about dedicated? Passionate?”

She shifts again, seemingly uncomfortable in her own skin. “It’s just… any other guy… I might’ve felt bad about not giving him my full attention, I should have. But I never really did.”

“You’ve never been in love before.”

“Oh no,” she says, eyes blown wide. “I’ve been in love before. And it did not go well.”

Nat cocks her head to the side. “Interesting…”

“Not today, no,” she responds to her friend’s fishing. That’s a looong story that’ll require more than a half a bottle of sugary Riesling to get out of her.

“Fine. But we will come back to this.”

“I’ve no doubt.”

“Are you afraid to live with him?” Natasha asks, taking no time at all to transition back to the topic at hand.

“I don’t know,” she answers honestly. “Right now, he doesn’t really have a place of his own. It’s either he stays with me or with Steve. So even though he’s usually at my place, it’s easy enough to say that he doesn’t really live there with me. But if he does actually live there… then it’s… I mean that’s…”

“Serious?”

Tessa nods, then stops short, crinkles her nose, and begins to shake her head. “It’s not just that. Or…it’s not that simple. It’s not like I’m afraid of commitment, per se.”

“Really?” Natasha asks with a smirk.

Tess rolls her eyes. “I just mean, I don’t have a problem with intimacy. Or committing to just one man. Or being in love… even though none of that has gone well in the past.” She sips her wine and stares off into the distance, focusing on nothing. “It’s… I don’t know… reliance. Dependence?”

“Explain please.”

“I can love James. I can be in love with James, and I can be intimate with him. Maybe even stay in the same apartment with him. But that’s different from being… with him.”

“How do you figure?”

“Because… I don’t know. Because if we’re together, really together, then I depend on him and he depends on me. And we’re…”

“A team?”

“Yes. I guess so.”

“And you don’t want to be part of a team.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“That wasn’t a question.” She shifts so that she’s sitting upright, and she levels Tessa with a confident stare. “When Clint first met you, you were freelancing for Genetech. Before that you were investigating – on your own – genetic anomalies. Then Clint convinced you to help out with SHIELD, which you would only do on a temporary, contract basis. Tony hired you as an independent contractor. And I know how hesitant you were to take the position as the head of the tier 1 med team. I know how long it took Tony to wear you down.”

“So you’re saying I’m not a team player?”

“Not at all. I was with you in Africa. And in Sokovia. I was part of the debrief on Mexico. I think you’re great on a team. And in case you’ve forgotten, I’ve seen your SHIELD file. So I know that you were an integral part of another pretty big team for quite a while.”

“Yeah, well…”

“Did the X-Men fuck you up that bad?”

She shakes her head emphatically. “I don’t talk about that.” She pauses for a moment, takes in Natasha’s words and says, “But… maybe it left me feeling like I shouldn’t be part of a team. Yeah. Maybe.”

“Well maybe it’s time to get over that.”

“Did Tony bribe you to try and get me on the team?”

She smiles and leans forward. “Tessa, you’re already part of the team – part of the Avengers team and, I’m pretty sure, part of the Sullivan-and-Barnes team. Whether you like it or not.”

She nods gravely and takes another drink, and the two sit in silence for a long moment. “I don’t want to disappoint him,” Tessa says softly.

“You think he’ll expect something different if you live together?”

She shrugs. “Right now, we’re just… I don’t know… we’re happy together. But – God, this is going to sound so cliché – we’ve never labeled it.”

Natasha snorts out a laugh. “Labels are for children. You don’t have to put a name to a relationship to be happy in it. You’re adults. If you’re happy together, then just be together.”

“That may be the most naïve thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

Nat merely shrugs. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m a genius and you’re just too threatened by my intellect to admit it.”

“Maybe. Doubtful.”

Natasha sets her mostly empty glass down on the coffee table and leans in toward Tessa. “You want to know what I think?” Tessa raises her eyebrows and nods. “I think that he knows you – gets you – in a way that no one else ever has. And I think that you, weirdly, get him too. And all of us in the tower think you both are disgustingly, adorably enamored with each other. And I don’t think that’ll go away because you work late and miss dinner a few nights a week, or because he leaves the toilet seat up, or because one or the other of you drank the last of the milk and put the carton back in the fridge, or whatever other ‘living together’ issues may come up.”

“I got yelled at for putting the empty OJ carton back in the fridge just last week.”

“See?!” She tenderly lays her hand on Tessa’s knee and levels her with an intense stare. “I think you’re nervous because you’re overthinking it. And if you just let go a little, which I know is crazy difficult for you, then you might just end up being happy despite yourself.”

Tessa drops her eyes and feels a hot blush slowly creep up her neck. She knows Natasha’s right. “I think…” she starts slowly, “that you’re a really good friend.” She looks back up at Nat and sees her eyes soften a bit. “And I think that we should go out and get you laid. Because you clearly have forgotten what it’s like to be with a man.”

“That might piss Bruce off.”

Tessa scoffs. “If he doesn’t make his move soon, he’s gonna piss me off. And he wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.”

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x oc #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes au #marvel fanfic #marvelau #bucky imagine #avengersau #avengers fanfiction #Supernova

[emotionalcello-makefanfics]

We. (Brujay fanfic) Part 2/4

Summary :

Alpha and Omega, more of a curse than a second gender. Theorized to be the nature’s solution of human’s close brush against extinction hundreds of thousands of years ago. It’s truly a blessing that their population is near extinction, not more than 5% of the total. The percentage of them meeting is slim to none. Yet here they are.

Word count : 3.1 k

Part 1

Click link to read on AO3

Click keep reading to read on tumblr~

 In a world where 95% of the population are betas, Jason is an omega, and Bruce is an alpha. No one ever knew their secondary gender, but each other.

Jason presented alone in a ditch after Talia lets him go. A late bloomer. It came as a painful shock, but he had other things to focus on than his gender. Thanks to suppressants and scent blockers, Jason passed as a beta.

Bruce presented when he was 13, at the back of his mind, he knew he’s going to be an alpha. He had scent neutralizing hygiene products to subdue his scent. There is no suppressant for Alphas, but he goes as far as creating one himself when he just can’t rely on the scent neutralizing soaps and deodorants. When he goes out as Batman, he goes for the most full-proof way, and that is scent blocker strips over his scent glands. Anything to make himself pass as a beta.

Between them, the first one who knew the other’s second gender is Jason. He caught a whiff of an alpha scent from Bruce. It was faint, and Jason was still his robin. Through meticulous observation, Jason could see the near-invisible scent blocker on Bruce’s neck. It was so foolproof that no Beta was supposed to notice. Jason had thought that he had a sensitive nose, little did he knew. Jason never confronted Bruce about the second gender, respecting his privacy, and understanding the danger of it ever getting out.

Even after their years-long fight, Jason said nothing. After he presented, he’s even more so careful with what he knows. It would be so easy to fight against Bruce using his weakness as an alpha, but as someone that’s also hiding his second gender, he’ll respect anyone that tried to hide it too.

Jason hides it for the sake of his safety as a whole. Omegas are easily weakened now that heat-inducing drugs are sold publicly as a sex stimulating drug. How easy his enemies can control him with an alpha’s scent and heat-inducing pheromones is like a middle finger from his body.

Even though Bruce can use his second gender to his benefit, he refuses to use it. Though alphas are strong, they’re easily manipulated by an omega scent. They became irrational or in some cases, feral at a scent of omegas in heat, which in some cases can be contained and reproduced.

Though Bruce can easily have his way as an alpha, he can’t risk his identities.

It was a life none of them want.

Jason can’t blindly ignore his second gender if he so desperately wants to. Source of his despise? Heats.

Jason would’ve taken suppressants for the rest of his life and never have heats if he can, but his wretched biology can’t function that way. Once every two years, his body needs to have his heat. Taking the suppressant consistently for more than two years could lead to addiction, drug tolerance, and irregular heats.

When Jason presented in a ditch. Fortunately, he was in a secluded area and the shock makes him forget a couple of days worth of time he spent lying there. Nothing happened to him other than the new smell and dying thirst and hunger.

Two years after that, he needed to have his heat.

Jason weighed his options. He could do this alone, or get some help. The first and obvious choice is to do it alone, and he did just that.

Painful would be an understatement. He had to fight himself for a week, and the worst is the first three days. His phone is destroyed because he was so close to calling anyone in his contact to come and help him... and breed him. Wriggling on top of his bed and never feel comfortable. His blood feels hot like molten lava in his vein, frying up all his senses. He had toys from skinny and long to a girth as thick as his arm, and they all could barely satisfy him. None of them are enough.

And he’s sore. All parts of his body whined and strained, and he’s always so fucking sore all the time.

It’s like being fucked by Satan’s talons, and Jason hates it.

When the second two years' annual heat is coming, and Jason weighs his options again.

He can go through all of this alone again, or have someone help him. Betas are less affected by Omega’s pheromone, makes them a perfect candidate to help him. What stopped him is Jason’s trust issues, none of his friends knew about him being an omega, and all his close friends are either gone or died.

Alphas can help too, the right one can be naturally dependable and caring. Their skin feels soothingly cold against the omega’s heated skin. And Jason only knows one Alpha. Bruce.

It never meant to start as blackmail. Jason just slides into Batcomputer’s encrypted CPU and told Bruce to meet him in a location because he knows Bruce is an alpha.

The location is a safe house that Jason created specifically for his heats. It’s an underground bunker abandoned since world war two. Jason stole the records of the bunker from the Register of Deeds and burns it. For the government and anyone alive, that place doesn’t exist. It was a bunker made by civilians back when the burned down apartment on top of it was farmlands. So it was fairly small and could tightly fit a hundred people in it.

In years between his first presenting heat and the incoming one, Jason turned it into an omega’s haven. A comfortable bed with tons of pillows and more on the closet. Fur carpeting is a must, pastel walls, and a working bathroom complete with a tub. But, just like any other safe house, there's guns on the secret compartment under his bed, a spare of his suit behind the cabinet, and aid kit in the bathroom.

Before the confrontation, Jason already got himself a birth control shot if things go his way. Birth control is hard to get, especially for omegas. As an omega, he could’ve conceived outside of heat with the same rate as a normal beta couple would. But in heat, the percentage of conceiving is 99%. And gods be damned if a child ever conceived between them.

Jason had taken all the precautions needed to be taken down to his words.

When the knight of Gotham entered the room, suspiciously easily when he must’ve expected a lot of alarm blaring, his shock is noticeable. Their dark suit of armor completely out of place in Jason’s pink green lavender pastel walls. Their grimy combat boots are stepping on the fragile soft wool carpeting.

Fighting is inevitable, especially with what Jason about to ask.

“I’m not telling anyone! That’s not why I called you here,” Jason finally snapped after they threw build up misunderstanding at each other.

“Then what is it?”

Shuddering, his hands damp with cold sweat, but he can feel himself turning up in heat. It’s coming and time is ticking against his favor.

This safe house is the most secure and isolated than the rest, and his king-sized super-cushioned bed is begging him to lay there. His helmet feels stuffy and his gear like a sauna. He just wants to peel his gear off and bask in the cold air conditioner.

Too embarrassed to say it, Jason peels off the scent blockers and lets his scent speak for itself.

Batman immediately steps back, and Jason can’t see his eyes in that mask, but his lips pursed deeply.

“No... You passed the age of presenting when you died,” Batman mumbled to himself.

“Guess I’m a late bloomer.” Jason takes off his helmet and takes a deep cool breath. “No one knows you’re an alpha, or me being an omega, so, I... want you to help me with my heat.” With eyes cast down to soft faux fur carpet, he waits.

“So, this is blackmail,” Batman hissed, but Jason caught the snippet of his hitched breath.

Biting off his smirk, Jason sneers, “We both got blackmail material on each other today. I’d say it’s pretty fair.”

Jason peels off his domino mask, and his leather jacket. He doesn’t know where this confidence is coming from. Perhaps seeing the ragged breath of the ever so composed Batman fed his ego.

“I’m not forcing you to help me. You can leave, the door is right there.” Jason drops himself on the side of the bed, taking off his boots and maintaining eye contact with Batman.

“And I’m not going to spill your secret as long as you don’t spill mine.” Jason takes off his body armor. Blood rushed to the surface of his skin, grateful for being unbound.

“And I’ll be right in this bed, writhing, fucking myself alone, begging for an alpha to take me.” The twitch on Batman’s face feeds on Jason’s ego. Not hiding his smirk, Jason takes off his gun holster, and unbuckle his belt.

“Maybe I’ll imagine you fucking me, with this guy over here,” Jason bends over to reach his drawers and pulls up a black knotted dildo.

“Or, you can stay, fuck your first omega, and I’ll treat you like an alpha you are.” By scooting back, his pants peel down.  “No work talk,” he slips his thumb under, “And absolutely no family talk,” and Jason pulls down his pants and it drops to his ankle.

It’s hard to see what’s under that body armor and that annoying bat symbol on his chest, but Batman’s breathing just hitched. Jason kicked his pants away, leaning back with hands sinking into the soft comfortable mattress. Pillows of all kinds surround him, even more, is in the closet. In his omega nest, he opened his legs with a smile that bares his teeth in hunger.

Never has he ever felt this hungry over someone. Jason can’t smell Bruce yet, but just by knowing he’s presenting himself to an alpha, he already feels damp between the legs.

Yet, because Jason knows he will get what he wants.

“Just an omega and an alpha, having a fun heat-induced sex. What are the chances that anyone gets to have this? You can’t find another omega like me, and I’m sure as hell can’t find another alpha...” Jason stares Batman’s gear from the combat boots to the pointy ears, imagining them gone, “...like you.”

By how Batman’s hands finally open from the former tight fists and the parted lips borderline panting, Jason knows he had won.

Black gloves pry opens the mask the blocks his most charming feature. Batman was gone, so was Bruce, and Jason sees a gaze of an alpha. Ice cold eyes lick his skin and leave the spots in shivers. The bright daylight white bulb hides nothing from both of them and Jason uses that in his favor.

Those eyes can see every drop slick between Jason’s legs, every crevice, and features. How long has it been that Jason only gets to see Batman and what remains of Bruce Wayne every time they meet? This time, he finally sees Bruce in a different light.

As Bruce starts to undress, the way he knits his eyebrows shows frustration, but his hands that take off his gear from gloves, cape, and body armor says that he’s undoubtedly willing.

No, Jason isn’t usually like this. He never had the privilege to seduce someone in his favor, they always offer themselves first, but baiting the alpha out of Batman is thrilling enough to make his heart drums. His hands trail from his knee, while piercing Bruce’s ice iris with his own, going up through the lines of muscles on his inner thigh and nest on his damp crotch. When Bruce is finally naked, Jason scoots back to the center of his bed.

“Come here, alpha,” Jason moaned, and obediently, Bruce approach with softer wrinkles on his face.

His rough muscular arms invite themself to loop on Jason’s naked waist, and sliding his knee under Jason’s thigh. Their naked crotch pressed together and Jason’s breath hitched at the contact. The older man dipped his nose right on the scent glands of his neck and inhaled deeply like a hungry man starved of food for days. Jason voluntarily bares his neck so Bruce can have more of him while he’s on a mission of his own.

Bruce’s scent blockers must’ve been his own handicraft. Almost invisible to the naked eye, even as Jason hooked his jaw on Bruce’s taut shoulder Jason couldn’t make it right away. The tips of his fingers nudge the edge of the strong patch, as if to ask permission. Another hand landed on top of Jason, not to stop it, but to grab the patch and strips it out.

Jason goes weak at the immediate scent of distinct musk. Smells of pinewood, with a hint of rose and smog, like dear home Gotham, and musk as the apparent scent of arousal.

Gulping, Jason loops his hand on Bruce’s neck and looks him in the eye. “Rules,” he asserted before he’ll be overcome with heat. “We are not mating, so, no biting on the neck.” Jason grabbed Bruce’s jaw, digging his nails to Bruce’s stubbled face.

Jason is not one to fool himself that he could overpower Bruce, his hormones are begging to submit, and Bruce can push him down and rape him with the power of his scent and growl alone. But Bruce is letting him do this, letting Jason raise his voice and assert his rules. It graces Jason’s face with a satisfied smile.

“I meant the no outside talk. We don’t bring the rest of our life when we do this here, and what we do here doesn’t exist outside this room.”

Jason unclenched his claws and caress Bruce’s face. Definitive jaws, cheekbones and brow bones on his rectangular face. Deep-set eyes that go dark with lust and pale blue irises that glints as Jason licks his lips. Thick, hard angled eyebrow furrows close to his eyes. Every feature of Bruce’s physical form screams alpha, a dashingly handsome one now that Jason gets to see him without the burden of their past and existing relationship.

The alpha finally smiles, making Jason’s heart do funny things. The quirk of his lips and his eyes that smiles along, makes the wrinkles deepen unfairly in his favor. Bruce has never looked this beautiful in his eyes.

“I agreed, what happens here, stays here. And we’ll leave our capes and names out of this,” Bruce’s eyes shamelessly lick him from top to bottom. Bruce finally puts his hand where it belonged, on the side of Jason’s tapered waist and helps himself to feel the crevices of the taut skin.

“Do you have your shots?” Bruce asked, ever the gentleman, a side Jason had never experienced personally before.

“Always.”

“Good.”

A pair of coarse hands clawed his back, holding him tight. A kiss started from the back of Jason’s jaw as the man on top of him breathes in as the kiss trails down to his scent glands. Bruce nips the skin right at the dip of his adam’s apple.

As his lips pressed there, Bruce complimented in a low whisper, “What a sweet omega, so good to me,” and Jason can feel the low rasp of his voice against his sensitive skin. Both the tone and his words set fire under every inch of his skin.

Seconds later he’s pinned down to his mattress by an alpha on rut.

They acted feral for the first time, Bruce bares his fangs, and Jason offers himself wholly. Feeling naked and bare yet safe and freeing at the same time, those components never go along together for them, but in this context, they do so harmoniously.

Jason hates to admit how good he feels under an alpha’s body. To be ravaged and taken. The scent of arousal mixing in the air. The sensation of running out of breath. How close and careful Bruce held him despite both of them on the very edge of losing each other’s control.

The climax is painfully long and hard to reach, but after a couple of rounds, the lust that clouded them has calmed down. The heat subdued. What’s left there is just Jason and Bruce, panting as the knight lay on top of him with arms around his waist and head on top of his chest. Bruce settled there between his legs while the slippery slick is dripping out of him. As he promised, Jason is full of bluing hickeys from his collar bone and down to his inner thighs, no bites.

“Will you regret this?” The words slipped out of Jason’s mouth before he could stop them.

Bruce whispered to his skin, “Never.”

They stopped after Jason’s heat finally ceased on the fifth day. Both lay satisfied as Bruce’s knot deflated while Jason is dripping in them.

After changing the sheets, they shower together, coping a little feel that goes too far that they have to shower again. The scent neutralizing soaps erases all evidence of their sexcapade. His alpha suits up and becomes Batman again.

Just before the knight left, Jason chirped, “See you in two years,” and the black figure stops by the door.

The omega that lay naked in bed to rest, looks up to the rigid form stuck in front of his doorstep.

“That is if you still want to help me with my heats. It’s up to you if you want to tap out.” Jason says incredulously with a grin because the five days they spent together and the shower that they just took shows otherwise.

“It’s not that.”

Jason cocks his eyebrow, “I’m on suppressant, so I only have my heats once every two years,” Jason explains.

“I know.”

Then Batman left, without even leaving a wind behind. Even for Batman’s standard, that behavior is weird, but Jason just shrugged as he takes his time to rest.

  They don’t talk about what they do in this Jason’s heat safe house, and they didn’t talk about who they are when they’re in this nest.

In Jason’s heat safe house, they exist only as an omega and an alpha. They leave their names and capes on the doorstep.

A moment of feral pleasure without ties.

At least, it’s what it supposed to be.

The first one to call is Bruce, a month after Jason has the first heat with him. He hates that this is what it has come to. He cursed the leap on his heart and the smile threatening to his face. Jason picked up to series of dates and times.

Sure enough, they’re back in his safe house with scent blockers off and no heat. Enjoying the rarest pleasure they can only have with each other. Being wholly themselves.

#brujay #brujay fanfic #alpha Bruce wayne #omega Jasontodd #omegaverse #omegaverse Brujay #Jason todd #Bruce Wayne #Jason todd x Bruce Wayne #Red hood fanfiction #Brujay Fanfiction #Red Hood

[johs2803]

The Great illusions

(This is a short practice snippet of an AU in the Miraculous Ladybug universe. Nothing is really all that different except Master Fu is the one to consistently choose who gets which miraculous and they stay with them. Secret identities are universally maintained. To quickly summarize. Alya is wondering why she, an honest and forthright person; whose passion for truth has set her on a oneway track to becoming a journalist, was granted the power of what essentially amounts to lying. Heavily inspired by a certain scene in Terry Pratchett’s “Hogfather”.)

I DO NOT OWN OR IN ANY WAY LAY CLAIM TO MIRACULOUS: TALES OF LADYBUG AND CHAT NOIR. ALL CHARACTERS FALL UNDER THOMAS ASTRUC AND ASSOCIATES. THIS IS A WORK OF FANFICTION FALLING UNDER THE LAWS OF FAIR USE AND IS NOT INTENDED FOR ANY KIND OF PROFIT.)

 Alya, heaved a heavy sigh as she read the latest comment asking for more details and analysis on a certain fox themed superhero who had helped in the latest akuma attack. Once again, she replied with, that despite the ladyblogs best efforts, Rena Rouge was as wily and elusive as her namesake and thus she could offer little in terms of illumination. She quickly deflected any more prodding by posting more pictures of the heroes in action, even that annoying turtle boy. These days, she had shifted her ladyblogs focus from exposing the heroes’ identities, to posting the action, the fact she had a front row seat didn’t hurt when it came to describing details. When pressed for reasons she just said that she had started to respect their secrets and didn’t want to impede them any further, which most took at face value. She couldn’t justify her truth crusade if it meant her secret had to stay secret. But telling her fans this was just one more lie she had to shoulder. 

If anything, continuing her ladyblog and never mentioning that she had a camouflaged camera drone follow her and her cohorts; was a huge help in maintaining her secret identity. The very thing she had tried to unveil from Ladybug for months before the package with her camera drone had come with hexagonal black box that would rock her world at its foundation. Her childhood dream and adolescent hopes had become true in a way she had never dared believe. Being a superhero, working with her idol and other like her, she wouldn’t trade it for anything. Except, as the case was, her ideals. Finishing her posts Alya held her head in her hands, her monitor displaying a close-up of Rena Rouge smiling at the camera. Her reflection aligned perfectly with the image, except, the one in the mask was happy having the time of her life, the one behind it was starting to doubt why heroes should ever need to wear masks.

“You look like you have your tail in a trap.” Alya jumped. She had been so lost in thought, that the mischievous voice above her head had shaken her from stupor rather suddenly.

Her malaise of doubt turned surprised bemusement quickly turned into a slight giggle as she looked up seeing the adorable vulpine kwami floating above happily snacking on a cherry.

“You’d think I’d be used to you sneaking up on me like that by now.” She said rotating her chair to get a better look at him. Her? Did primordial embodiments of abstract concepts have genders?

“Please, Kit. I’ve been doing surprises since before the earth was cosmic dust.” He said smugly gulping down a cherry and spitting the seed in her trash bin. Her unprecedented love for cherries had been one of the easier lies to tell her family, if only cause Trixx looked absolutely adorable when eating them. “Seriously though; something is clearly bothering you kit, and I’m guessing it has something to do with me.”

It was a statement not an accusation, and Alya was experienced enough in deduction to know how he had arrived at that conclusion, her monitor still portraying her heroic persona. “It’s not you Trixx. It’s just…” She paused. “Being a hero is a lifelong dream for me, and I love you, amongst other things, for making it come true. What’s bothering me is the lies. I always knew heroes had their secrets, but I never knew it was gonna be this hard keeping them.”

“You’re doing well so far I’d say.” Trixx said nodding to the monitor with her comments deflecting the probes and her drone posing as the real reporter.

“That’s not what I meant.” She replied.

After a moment, Trixx replied with. “Ah, so it’s the act itself that’s eating you?”

Alya just nodded.

“You know why you need to lie. Your friends, your sisters, your parents; all of them can be used against you if everyone knew who you were behind the mask.”

“Yeah. I get that. What I don’t get, is why I got the power of lying in addition to having to maintain lies. I mean look at Ladybug and Chat noir. One of them can make everything right, and the other can destroy everything bad. Even Shelly is a protector obnoxious as he is. I just can’t help but thinking about Lila, you know the girl I told you about who Hawkmoth gave a knockoff of your powers to? She lied constantly and nobody whom she contacted was happy afterwards. The way I see it, lying and illusions just hurt people in the end.” She ended her tirade with huff slumping in her chair.

Trixx had sympathetic look on him and just floated down to her side rubbing her cheek. “You’ve done good things with them though. Like when you saved your akumatized sisters or that time your boyfriend was about to be eaten and your illusory doppelgangers of him confused that monster?”

She smiled to herself. She had done that. Even if Nino had been less than grateful to her for it. One of the very few points of friction between them was that he did not like Rena Rouge and she did not like Carapace. Whom, for reasons she could not for the life of her fathom, he deeply admired. Alongside LB and CH of course.

“Yeah. Still leading people away from the truth always seems to go wrong. If they are lead to believe the wrong things it just ends up hurting them and benefitting those that maintain them.”

Trixx floated away and up to the ceiling and asked, “Then why do you tell your sisters that the tooth fairy comes to give them money for their lost teeth, when you and your sister do it each night they put them under their pillow?”

Alya looked up at that. “Well, that’s…” She stammered. “…different. They’re just kids, all they need now is that they are safe and that there is some magic out there. Not including Miraculous’. Besides they’re smart, so like me and my big sis, they’ll realize one day that it was just a story we used to make them happy.” She quickly added. “Heck, it helped me want to find out the truths everybody tried to hide.”

He turned around and pointed at her in an ‘AHA’ pose. “My point exactly! Not all illusions can be hurtful and without realizing it you are telling them the lesser illusions, so they have the practice necessary to believe in the great illusions!”

“The great illusions?” She asked puzzled.

“Yep” he said with an air of self-importance. “Justice, duty, beauty those kinds of things.”

“Wait, those aren’t the same at all!” she objected

“You think so? Then take the universe and examine it with the strongest lens you know off and then show me one atom of justice, one molecule of mercy or even one boson of beauty! And yet, you BELIEVE that those things exist in the very fundamentals of this existence and that all of it may be judged via that tinted lens.” Trixx darted around in great arcs as he spoke but ended his final statement right in front of her face.

“But if we don’t believe that, what else is there?”

“Just the things you can perceive.” Alya’s face dropped a tad as the weight of Trixx’s words hit her. “If you don’t believe in things that aren’t real, how else can they become?”

Alya was quiet, not quite able to process what Trixx had told her. He’d know better than anyone, but were all the things she believed built on a lie others had told her? She had never considered it, and now that she did with her discerning reporter’s ambition, she did not like the conclusions she saw.

Trixx air of importance vanished, replaced by sympathy as he floated to her cheek and hugged it as best as his miniscule frame could managed. She smiled a genuine smile as she scratched the top of his head. The, literally, tiny gesture had a colossal impact. Not unlike how she hugged away the nightmares her little sisters sometimes woke from, she mused.

After a while Trixx floated back and with his own genuine smile said; “Look ki- Alya, like any power in the universe, illusions may be used to hurt others as much as they may be used to help them. Creation may overwhelm other entities and destruction does not discriminate between good and bad. It doesn’t so much matter what the power is, as what you do with it. And going along with one or more of the great illusions does not make you a liar. It makes you someone who wants to do good in the world and make what is essentially one massive lie reality. And I know that you know that that is a good thing.”

Alya pulled him back into a cheek hug which he happily returned.

“Thanks Trixx.” She said. Then with a teasing lilt. She said, “I’d still like a kwami of truth though.”

Picking up on her less than serious tone, his reply was the opposite in its earnesty. “Well, I wouldn’t trade you for any human in the world.”

(This was an idea I had after watching a subpar filmatization of an otherwise great author’s works. I wanted to practice my writing and thought this was a good place to start. I’d appreciate any constructive criticism and hope you all have a miraculous day!)

#alya cesaire #trixx #miraculous ladybug #fanfic #snippet #critical thinking #illusions #terry pratchett #hogfather #miraculous fanfic #miraculous

[hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger]

Has peter ever thought that the best way to protect everyone he loves is to not be involved with them? I know that there was a very brief time when he ditched the peter Parker part of his life, but I would think after what happened to Gwen he would consider a life alone without anyone so that no one would be endangered by him. For example he wouldn’t try and date because that would put them in danger. Or some line of thinking similar to that.

Ah well this is a dicey topic. 

Peter has at times THOUGHT this but never really acted upon it, he’s never isolated himself for the greater good. 

After Gwen died he does in the immediate wake of it (and I mean literally cradling her body seconds after she died) think he was responsible for killing her.

So you’d think he would consider isolation but he never did and eventually he and MJ are dating and the thought doesn’t cross his mind. in fact in the first issue where they are a couple she almost dies because Harry as the Goblin bombed Peter’s apartment. Due to the stress and injuries he even hallucinates seeing an injured MJ as Gwen.

So you’d think this would have crossed his mind but it didn’t.

And in fact no matter how many passing thoughts or self-flagellating monologues he has considering how everyone would be safer without him, he has never actually done that.*

Thus the question arises...why didn’t he ever do this and why was he so casual, especially after Gwen’s death, about dating again?

There are numerous ways to reconcile it.

a) Old fashioned writing, plain and simple. 1973-1975 was a different time

b) Between Gwen’s death in 1973 and the end of Conway’s run in 1975 he actually had stories play out in semi-real time. Roughly 2 years elapsed for Peter as it did for the readers. I dunno if there has ever been an explanation for why this happened but I suspect it was so that Conway could have Peter believably move on. 

In real life when you lose a loved one the first 2 years are the hardest and when people lose a partner they often wait 1-2 years before moving on. So 2 years passing for Peter was realistic and respectful. However by having those 2 years play out in semi-real time Conway was having rather large time skips between issues and arcs. 

Whereas under Stan’s pen Peter’s college adventures more often than not happened in short succession of one another (sometimes flowing directly from one into the next leaving no gaps) suddenly it was like the Ditko era where an undisclosed amount of time was happening off panel between stories. This is why we never actually SEE the exact moment Peter and MJ start dating. The build up is there, we know they have feelings so it works, but we open up ASM #136 and bam they are dating now.**

Conway likely played things like this because going at the old pace meant you’d either need to wait 4-8 years before 1-2 years had elapsed for Peter, or you waited less time and in-universe Peter seems to be dating whilst Gwen’s body is still warm so to speak.

He made the right decision but the consequence was if Peter ever did have apprehensions of endangering any future lovers like Gwen we didn’t see it, but it might’ve happened off panel.

c) When one thinks about it, not only does anyone living in Marvel NYC already court death because of all the crime and super people (it was ground zero for Galactus’ invasion!) but Peter’s lifestyle had come to endanger loved ones long before Gwen died.

Betty Brant was abducted by Doc Ock in ASM #12 and Annual #1, for no reason other than Otto noticed Spidey risked his life to save her before so he’d do so again probably. In the latter story Aunt May got abducted to because she happened to be visiting the Bugle at that same moment. The Sinister Six didn’t even know of her connection to Peter.

Peter himself has been targeted merely because people know he takes Spidey photos.

So whilst no one had directly died before due to being a part of his life, he’d been aware of the potential risks for a long time.

But it goes deeper than that because he was also no stranger to death. He’d seen people die in the course of his career, most poignantly Captain Stacy. His death had nothing to do with his connection to Peter Parker.

So Peter knew these risks. Heck in ASM #40 he even thought that he was not himself afraid to die, being more concerned with what would happen to Aunt May if he disappeared without a trace. He knew of how delicate she was so in risking his life as Spider-Man he was in effect risking her life too not even directly from villains but indirectly because his death could in turn cause her’s.

However there had been countless examples in his life where people he knew got endangered by pure chance. Captain Stacy got brainwashed and he an Gwen almost died due to a scheme by Kingpin that had nothing to do with Peter Parker or Spider-Man.

Basically...shit happens and Peter knew that.

d) Really Spider-Man’s chosen career path isn’t that different to a cop’s, an activist’s a secret service person. The difference is the physical threat his enemies pose is greater but the physical threat he poses is also greater and he has greater anonymity than those people.

Peter of course was friendly with people who’s careers expose them to potential enemies. Jameson, Robbie, Captain Stacy, even the Osborn’s in a sense. But they all had families too.

Prison officers, cops and the like in the real world do as well even though if a someone with a vendetta or someone deranged is clever and resourcful enough there is sadly not that much to stop them targetting their loved ones either.

So...is Spider-Man really that different?

Why are those people, who arguably have less protection than he does, allowed to have families but he isn’t?

e) Peter needs people. 

I mean we all need people, no one is an island. But when you live a life like Peter’s a support network is vital. It’s especially vital when you are grieving as he was after Gwen died.

It’s part of simply maintaining your health and sanity

f) Were Peter to have isolated himself in effect he kind of exposes his friends to more danger. If he’s still Spider-Man and someone finds out who he is then the fact that he isn’t currently in contact with his friends or family means little, they are still targets and he would still be in a better position to protect them if he was in regular contact with them and knew vaguely where they were and what they were up to. 

Imagine if he isolated himself for 5 years and then someone finds out who he is and decides to target MJ who is now living in California. Warning her or getting to her in time would be much more difficult.

They’re already in danger now, might as well be in the best defensive position possible.

Ultimately it all boils down to this. Peter lost a lover violently due to his lifestyle and then continued that lifestyle and found a new lover without questioning giving up said lifestyle or the possibility of having a lover again. So your options for what that means boils down to

1) He’s a selfish, insensitive, irresponsible, immature jerk.

2) He’s someone who deep down recognizes that in life shit happens and there are risks that come with his job, a job he does for the greater good. But he has human needs and even a responsibility to himself to try to be happy. He can even recognize the paralleles in his job to others who do maintain social connections and knows he’s allowed to have that too.

Option 2 might not have been put on the page of any comic per se, but unlike Option 1, it doesn’t totally eviscerate the central message of the character or the idea he is supposed to be heroic and admirable. Option 2 also makes him capable of better reflecting the average reader

 *Even abandonning his identity as Peter Parker wasn’t so much to keep everyone else safe as it was a coping mechanism for his own pain and grief. Peter’s life was full of pain and loss, so giving it up and retreating into Spider-Man was ‘safer’.

 **In fairness Bendis did the same thing. In USM #1-13 he clearly shows Peter and MJ have feelings for one another but abruptly during the next arc we find out they got together formally off panel and the implication is that we didn’t even see their first kiss or anything.

[newstfionline]

How Facebook Figures Out Everyone You’ve Ever Met

Kashmir Hill, Gizmodo, Nov. 7, 2017

In real life, in the natural course of conversation, it is not uncommon to talk about a person you may know. You meet someone and say, “I’m from Sarasota,” and they say, “Oh, I have a grandparent in Sarasota,” and they tell you where they live and their name, and you may or may not recognize them.

You might assume Facebook’s friend recommendations would work the same way: You tell the social network who you are, and it tells you who you might know in the online world. But Facebook’s machinery operates on a scale far beyond normal human interactions. And the results of its People You May Know algorithm are anything but obvious. In the months I’ve been writing about PYMK, as Facebook calls it, I’ve heard more than a hundred bewildering anecdotes:

A man who years ago donated sperm to a couple, secretly, so they could have a child--only to have Facebook recommend the child as a person he should know. He still knows the couple but is not friends with them on Facebook.

A social worker whose client called her by her nickname on their second visit, because she’d shown up in his People You May Know, despite their not having exchanged contact information.

A woman whose father left her family when she was six years old--and saw his then-mistress suggested to her as a Facebook friend 40 years later.

An attorney who wrote: “I deleted Facebook after it recommended as PYMK a man who was defense counsel on one of my cases. We had only communicated through my work email, which is not connected to my Facebook, which convinced me Facebook was scanning my work email.”

Connections like these seem inexplicable if you assume Facebook only knows what you’ve told it about yourself. They’re less mysterious if you know about the other file Facebook keeps on you--one that you can’t see or control.

Behind the Facebook profile you’ve built for yourself is another one, a shadow profile, built from the inboxes and smartphones of other Facebook users. Contact information you’ve never given the network gets associated with your account, making it easier for Facebook to more completely map your social connections.

Shadow contact information has been a known feature of Facebook for a few years now. But most users remain unaware of its reach and power. Because shadow-profile connections happen inside Facebook’s algorithmic black box, people can’t see how deep the data-mining of their lives truly is, until an uncanny recommendation pops up.

Facebook isn’t scanning the work email of the attorney above. But it likely has her work email address on file, even if she never gave it to Facebook herself. If anyone who has the lawyer’s address in their contacts has chosen to share it with Facebook, the company can link her to anyone else who has it, such as the defense counsel in one of her cases.

Facebook will not confirm how it makes specific People You May Know connections, and a Facebook spokesperson suggested that there could be other plausible explanations for most of those examples--”mutual friendships,” or people being “in the same city/network.”

Handing over address books is one of the first steps Facebook asks people to take when they initially sign up, so that they can “Find Friends.”

You enter your email address and then your email password, and Facebook will tell you everyone you know on Facebook. Meanwhile, Facebook holds on to all the contacts you handed over.

The “Find Friends” page in the Facebook smartphone app presents a picture of a spray of flowers and inviting the user to “See who’s on Facebook by continuously uploading your contacts.”

Down in the fine print, below the “Get Started” button, the page states that “Info about your contacts...will be sent to Facebook to help you and others find friends faster.” This is vague, and the purpose remains vague even after you click on “Learn More”:

When you choose to find friends on Facebook, we’ll use and securely store information about your contacts, including things like names and any nicknames; contact photo; phone numbers and other contact or related information you may have added like relation or profession; as well as data on your phone about those contacts. This helps Facebook make recommendation for you and others, and helps us provide a better service.

Take a look at all the possible information associated with a contact on your phone. Then consider the accumulated data your phone is carrying about various people, whether lifelong friends or passing acquaintances.

Facebook warns users to be judicious about using all this data. “You may have business or personal contacts in your phone,” the Learn More screen admonishes the reader. “Please only send friend requests to people you know personally who would welcome the invite.”

Having issued this warning, and having acknowledged that people in your address book may not necessarily want to be connected to you, Facebook will then do exactly what it warned you not to do. If you agree to share your contacts, every piece of contact data you possess will go to Facebook, and the network will then use it to try to search for connections between everyone you know, no matter how slightly--and you won’t see it happen.

Facebook doesn’t like, and doesn’t use, the term “shadow profiles.” It doesn’t like the term because it sounds like Facebook creates hidden profiles for people who haven’t joined the network, which Facebook says it doesn’t do. The existence of shadow contact information came to light in 2013 after Facebook admitted it had discovered and fixed “a bug.” The bug was that when a user downloaded their Facebook file, it included not just their friends’ visible contact information, but also their friends’ shadow contact information.

The problem with the bug, for Facebook, was not that all the information was lumped together--it was that it had mistakenly shown users the lump existed. The extent of the connections Facebook builds around its users is supposed to be visible only to the company itself.

Facebook does what it can to underplay how much data it gathers through contacts, and how widely it casts its net. “People You May Know suggestions may be based on contact information we receive from people and their friends,” Facebook spokesperson Matt Steinfeld wrote in an email. “Sometimes this means that a friend or someone you know might upload contact information--like an email address or phone number--that we associate with you. This and other signals from you help us to make sure that the people we suggest are those you likely already know and want to become friends with on Facebook.”

Users of Instagram and WhatsApp, which are owned by Facebook, can also upload contacts to those apps, but Steinfeld said that Facebook does not currently use that data for Facebook friend suggestions.

When Steinfeld wrote “a friend or someone you might know,” he meant anyone--any person who might at some point have labeled your phone number or email or address in their own contacts. A one-night stand from 2008, a person you got a couch from on Craiglist in 2010, a landlord from 2013: If they ever put you in their phone, or you put them in yours, Facebook could log the connection if either party were to upload their contacts.

That accumulation of contact data from hundreds of people means that Facebook probably knows every address you’ve ever lived at, every email address you’ve ever used, every landline and cell phone number you’ve ever been associated with, all of your nicknames, any social network profiles associated with you, all your former instant message accounts, and anything else someone might have added about you to their phone book.

As far as Facebook is concerned, none of that even counts as your own information. It belongs to the users who’ve uploaded it, and they’re the only ones with any control over it.

All the people who know you and who choose to share their contacts with Facebook are making it easier for Facebook to make connections you may not want it to make.

It’s what the sociologist Danah Boyd calls “networked privacy”: All the people who know you and who choose to share their contacts with Facebook are making it easier for Facebook to make connections you may not want it to make--say if you’re in a profession like law, medicine, social work, or even journalism, where you might not want to be connected to people you encounter at work, because of what it could reveal about them or you, or because you may not have had a friendly encounter with them.

Imagine the challenge for people trying to maintain two different identities, such as sex workers or undercover investigators. Not only do you have to keep those identities apart like a security professional, you have to make sure that no one else links them either. If just one person you know has contact information for both identities and gives Facebook access to it, your worlds collide. Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent would be screwed.

Shadow profile data powers Facebook’s effort to connect as many people as possible, in as many ways as possible. The company’s ability to perceive the threads connecting its billion-plus users around the globe led it to announce last year that it’s not six degrees that separate one person from another--it’s just three and a half.

With its vast, hidden black book, Facebook can go beyond simply matching you directly with someone else who has your contact information. The network can do contact chaining--if two different people both have an email address or phone number for you in their contact information, that indicates that they could possibly know each other, too. It doesn’t even have to be an address or phone number that you personally told Facebook about.

This is how a psychiatrist’s patients were recommended to one another and may be why a man had his secret biological daughter recommended to him. (He and she would have her parents’ contact information in common.) And it may explain why a non-Facebook user had his ex-wife recommended to his girlfriend. Facebook doesn’t keep profiles for non-users, but it does use their contact information to connect people.

“Mobile phone numbers are even better than social security numbers for identifying people,” said security technologist Bruce Schneier by email. “People give them out all the time, and they’re strongly linked to identity.”

As Violet Blue wrote in Cnet at the time of the shadow-profile bug, “What the revelation means is that Facebook has much more information on us than we know, it may not be accurate, and despite everyone’s best efforts to keep Facebook from knowing our phone numbers or work email address, the social network is getting our not-for-sharing numbers and email addresses anyway by stealing them (albeit through ‘legitimate’ means) from our friends.”

What if you don’t like Facebook having this data about you? All you need to do is find every person who’s ever gotten your contact information and uploaded it to Facebook, and then ask them one by one to go to Facebook’s contact management page and delete it.

Just don’t miss anyone. “Once a contact is deleted, we remove it from our system--but of course it is possible that the same contact has been uploaded by someone else,” Steinfeld wrote in an email.

The shadow profiles, like the People You May Know system they feed into, can’t be turned off or opted out of. The one thing you can do to impede Facebook’s contacts-based connections is, through its Privacy Settings menu, keep people from finding your profile by searching your phone number or email address. (Yes, Facebook functions as a reverse phone-number look-up service; under the default settings, anyone can put your phone number into the search bar and pull up your account.)

“Let’s say you’ve shared your phone number [or email address] with a lot of people and don’t want strangers using it to search for you on Facebook,” Steinfeld wrote. “You can limit who can look you up on Facebook by that phone number [or email address] to ‘friends.’ This is also a signal that People You May Know uses. So if a stranger uploads his address book including that phone number [or email address, it] won’t be used to suggest you to that stranger in People You May Know.”

These privacy settings are an undocumented way to control to whom you get recommended in People You May Know.

But you can only block People You May Know from using information you’ve actively provided to Facebook, not what’s in your shadow profile. So to protect your privacy, you need to provide Facebook with even more information about you.

I asked if Facebook would consider sharing shadow profile information with its users, much like it accidentally shared it with their friends four years ago. Facebook says it can’t because it would be a privacy violation of those who gave the information.

#Facebook #Facebook data #Facebook shadow profile #People You May Know #Facebook friends

[alinkbetweenportraits]

How to be Hated by An RP Community: A Guide for Assholes by an Asshole

Do you RP?

Do you hate being ignored when facing the slightest bit of emotional distress?

Do you enjoy having people notice your characters but hate the pesky effort of treating your peers like actual people?

Congratulations, dear reader! You’ve taken the first step in becoming despised by every roleplayer you come into contact with! This truly is a thrilling and triumphant chapter you’re stepping into. Why there are many perks to being your grade A RPing asshole, which include crippling self esteem, isolation, depression, damaged eating/sleeping habits, decreased work quality, lower grades, loss of contact with loved ones, and even permanent emotional trauma! For some of us, this all comes naturally. However, some wide eyed newcomer walking into the RP community might not understand the basics of becoming a massive thorn on everyone’s side.

With just five easy steps, you too can become the grade A asshole your mother spent hours in labor forcing out of a narrow vulva while sobbing in sheer agony.

1.) Rules? About page? Headcanons? All those go out the door! You see, reader, nothing gives an RPer the middle finger quite like ignoring someone’s painstaking efforts in creating a character identity that is unique to their own designs while also maintaining the integrity of the original story. Yeah, their characterization is okay I guess. But you? You’ve got this in the bag, even if you gotta remind them by breaking their rules and head canons and forcing your ideas down their throats. What if they ignore you, you ask? Simple! Look into your dictionary of controversial buzzwords and slap them on their name. Because nothing say asshole quite like using serious issues that affect hundreds of thousands of people across the globe when something doesn’t go your way.

2.) Break boundaries like a real hero! When we were all little, we were told that life has no boundaries. All boundaries set up by the man are meant to be broken. All of them. Every single one. And all can be shattered with ease if you put your hands in your ears and scream “LALALALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU” loud enough. A little known secret about being a true RPer is that when we sign up, we actually make a blood oath to hell beasts for our page layout, icons, and writing skills. And in return we are expected to post a minimum of fifteen replies a day in order to appease to our overlords. RPers are expected to always stay in character and respond to your posts even during their most distressing times of their lives. School? Work? Family emergency? Their cherished pet died? PSH! Once you stubbed your toe against the nightstand and only cried for fifteen minutes. So go ahead, send in all those messages asking why they haven’t RPed all day despite posting memes or other content on their blog. When in doubt, just remember all boundaries are meant to be broken, including personal.

3.) It’s all a popularity contest! What’s that? You think that people RP for fun and to interact with new people? Yeah sure kid, you tell yourself that. The first step to building your RP account isn’t creating an interesting character. That’s too much time and work. Instead, latch onto the most popular RPer you know and leech off their overall minor online accomplishment. Send them uncomfortable messages, invade their personal space, raid all their RP threads without permission, make logging onto their account a living hell. The world must know you two are the closest and bestest of friends even if you can’t remember their last name or birthday. 

But what’s that? You think that’s too much time and emotional investment? That’s okay! You can easily build a blog of your own by simply “borrowing” ideas from other blogs. This can include art, headcanons, faceplates, writing, music and any other original work painstakingly made by the talented hands of other RPers you tried to manipulate. The best part is, you don’t even have to ask. Remember, ignorance is bliss, and nobody can accuse you of plagiarism if you just didn’t know any better and the RPer is unaware! After all, you deserve those followers, and nothing is more important than what you want in life. Besides, if all these guys have so many followers on their blog, then they clearly have enough emotional support and security. They can share!

4.) OCs? More like no see! Everyone knows that OCs are all just lazy self insert smut dolls. That’s right, you sinful harlots. That character you spent months developing into your own personal creation was all a ruse to disguise your disgusting lustful tendencies. How dare you write a character of your own imagination and use them however you please. But that’s not even the worst part, reader. Did you know if you interact with an OC blog, you’re doomed to fade into obscurity? Nobody wants fresh ideas or something new and interesting, and that’s not going on your blog ever. The more you interact with fan characters, the less people will follow your stories and read your RPs. And nothing is more important than pleasing the mainstream audience. OCs are essentially the herpes of any RPing community, so be sure to toss them in the trash as you kick them off. Don’t ever let them down easy and give them time to become their own interesting part of a massive universe. After all, this massive and complex world they originate in clearly has enough people to count on your hands. Give that stupid Mary Sue what they deserve! 

5.) When in doubt, bullshit your way out. The world is sad and harsh and truth is scary. Too scary, in fact. Hearing the truth makes other people sad. That’s why you should do everything in your power to lie. It’s not that you don’t respect the intelligence or emotional well being of everyone around you. You’re just doing the right thing by creating an ideal place for all your followers and peers. The truth is just too big and scary. Remember step three. Ignorance is bliss. Are you under 18 but want to smut? Lie about your age. Sure it may run the risk of throwing an innocent person in jail, but smut of your OTP is just so hard to come by these days and dad just installed parental controls on your laptop. Do you hate another RPer and have an insatiable jealousy that can’t be satisfied? Post fake chat logs or flat out antagonize them publicly. Don’t forget to give your followers a link to their account so they can harass them. It’s not your fault, all of that could have been avoided if they just did what you asked. But most importantly, lie to yourself. Create a persona instead of being honest with both yourself and the people who want to look up to your work. Remember, you are flawless and can do no wrong. If you ever make a mistake, never forget the other side provoked it and only got what they deserve. You never need to improve by listening to criticism or learning from people who are more experienced than you. If you tell yourself you’re flawless enough, everyone will believe you, including yourself.

Good job reader! Now that you’ve thoroughly followed all the advice listed here, you’re well on your way to becoming the subject of other people’s bitter conversations. RPers will run from you and you will find yourself slowly but surely fade away until the only thing left is a broken ego and soiled reputation.

“But Clara! I don’t want to be hated. I want my blog to be loved. How do I get people to love me?”

The secret to being loved is that there is no secret. People don’t run on a formula. Some people will love you while others will hate your guts for no real reason. Some are open, others are a bit more isolated. Some prefer rping with their friends while others are willing to share different ideas. Bottom line, people are complicated and not everyone is going to be your best friend. 

Read the rules/about page and any headcanons. Try to follow their rules as best as you can. If you make a mistake, offer an immediate apology. Be polite and courteous even to the smallest of strangers. If you see something on an RP blog you like, ask someone for advice on how to improve or permission to borrow any content. Accept a yes or no with grace instead of anger. But the most important step is communication. Ask for help. Ask for advice. Ask if they want to RP or what kind of things they’d like to do together. Share your ideas and listen to what the other has to say. Offer praise when you see something you like. Give a get well message to someone when they post they are feeling under the weather. Hell even give characters a random question to answer every once in a while. It isn’t just their blog, but your own too. Make your pages easy to access. Write an about page that’s easy to understand (for god’s sake stop writing riddles that raise more questions than answers as an about page). Introduce your character like people don’t know who they are. Maybe they’re not part of the fandom. Maybe they want to know how you portray your character. Be sure to be open for any suggestions and ideas, and people will find you far easier to approach.

You don’t have to be friends or very close, but you can still interact while keeping friendly conversation. Many RPers don’t mind receiving personal messages, and chances are they’re just as shy as you are. Instead of comparing differences and trying to find the superior, learn to work with them. RPing is about two people writing for fun in the end. When you find a mutual and positive relationship with someone and their character, everything else falls into place.

“But I still don’t get many asks or followers. What can I do to fix that?”

I wouldn’t know. People also tend to follow what they think is good. That’s something I’ve learned working in restaurants for over seven years. If you feel you’re short on contact, it could be a wake up call to try and revamp things to make something new and improved. Don’t be afraid to take the risk. Sometimes it also depends on what the content being put out is. My best friend has over 2000 followers on her RP blog, but she also posts very well done art she made on a regular basis. Not only that but her characters and ideas never cease to blow me away. Naturally people are gonna wanna see more original art and comics than random drabble writing like me. None the less, I’m always proud of her whenever she does something people love. People see all the hard work she puts into everything she posts, and that’s why she gets attention. She and I follow the same rule and we’re both happy RPers as a result: Write what you want to read and people will follow.

“How can I even tell if I’m a good RPer when I don’t have enough followers or messages?”

By saying this you say two things to everyone reading your posts. First, you treat everyone who follows you, all those RPers who worked just as hard, if not harder, than you to make their character interesting as nothing more than a number in a counter. You don’t respect their independence or their efforts and only appreciate their follows. 

Second, and even worse, all those people who sent you asks? Who read your content? Who log on and get excited to see your posts? Not only do you completely disregard all the time and effort put into keeping up with your hard work, but you completely dismiss all the support they offered you every step of the way and made their painstakingly made responses entirely worthless. 

When you judge yourself over follower count, you turn your back on both acquaintances and loyal RPers/followers. Frankly, if you’re only RPing to become mildly popular no matter what it takes, you don’t deserve either of them.

#ooc #RP advice #and to clear the air those asks in italics are things I've been sent by other people #In multiple RP accounts #If only they were strawmen asks #RP help #new rper #writing advice #writing help #long post #RP guide