mistressofmagic-a

[mistressofmagic-a]

ruleroflimbo​:

Illyana smiled slightly. “If you were going to keep every piece of paper I sketched on there would be almost nothing else in this house” if there was a pen, marker or pencil in her hand and something to draw on around, chances are Illyana sketched on it. “Not to mention all the jeans I drew on when I got bored in class” she spent maybe half or more of her time in class drawing on the legs of pants if she’d run out of paper. “I don’t think I had a single pair of jeans that I hadn’t drawn on back then.”

“I could always just use magic to grow them out faster” Illyana joked, well… she was mostly joking. “Or just stay in Limbo while they grow out, though if I stay there that long-” she sighed before turning away from the mirror and back to Zatanna. “I’m not sure I’d come back.”

/

"I'm sure I could convince the house to expand the library. Give you an entire section for old sketches." Zatanna didn't do desperate well - she didn't hover - but the impulse to save these things was fierce. Illyana might not see the value in them, and maybe they weren't perfect, but still, Zatanna couldn't let them go. (She was trying to hang onto her without suffocating her. Illyana would always be her first daughter.) "You should have let me make a quilt out of them," Zatanna teased.

"I'd vote for cosmetic magic before going back to Limbo." Anything was better than losing Illyana to that place for a few months again. Or years - or any amount of time. Illyana had to return there regularly, Zatanna had accepted that, but the idea of her being there for an extended amount of time still caused her to bristle. "Is something else happening there?" Another war? Another battle? Or did she... just hate this place that much?

[mistressofmagic-a]

avengerofiron​:

(✉️ ➡️ bella): compare FRIDAY to a cat out loud and she’ll set the tower on fire, zee (✉️ ➡️ bella): she’ll give you a pass in writing. maybe. just don’t repeat it, or draw too much attention (✉️ ➡️ bella): i think it’s more like the other way around ;) (✉️ ➡️ bella): god you’re so hot (✉️ ➡️ bella): i know /this/ cat is (✉️ ➡️ bella): shadowcrest is pretty old. i bet there are some rats hanging out who know the benefits of remaining inconspicious. you’re in denial (✉️ ➡️ bella): too late! sorry babe (✉️ ➡️ bella): reading is for dorks anyway. i’m much cooler (✉️ ➡️ bella): i’m your baby, baby (✉️ ➡️ bella): for at least another couple months, anyway, until i’m usurped (✉️ ➡️ bella): we could do a daddy v mommy issues battle (✉️ ➡️ bella): daddy v daddy (✉️ ➡️ bella): i’m icking myself out but (✉️ ➡️ bella): also not

(✉️ ➡️ mi amor ): i don't see how her burning down the tower is /my/ problem, mi amor (✉️ ➡️ mi amor ): i'll send it as a voicenote next time, i wonder if hearing it in my tone of voice will make it worse or not (✉️ ➡️ mi amor ): might be a mutual endeavor. but i wouldn't mind adding more evidence to the pile to see who is corrupting who... (✉️ ➡️ mi amor ): i need a cat whisker picture of you! (✉️ ➡️ mi amor ): you better be coming home with this cat tony istg your place in my bed is on the line at this point (✉️ ➡️ mi amor ): are you telling me our kind might grow up to be some version of cinderella with rats coming to help them get ready for prom? (✉️ ➡️ mi amor ): but also i'm going to ask hassan because i don't want to see any rats. they're gross. maybe he can trap them and we can donate them or something? idk i just ick (✉️ ➡️ mi amor ): yes but reading in your arms? top tier romance. you reading to me? even better (✉️ ➡️ mi amor ): this devolved so quicky holy /shit/ (✉️ ➡️ mi amor ): am i going to have to call you daddy now so the baby doesn't call you babe or tony or mi amor? or asshole? (✉️ ➡️ mi amor ): i don't know if i can call you daddy with a straight face (✉️ ➡️ mi amor ): i said it out loud and now i'm waiting to see if my dad shows up (✉️ ➡️ mi amor ): tony i'm scared

[mistressofmagic-a]

(✉️ ➡️ gnivil daed ): i'm pregnant and you're stealing my food? first that bbq sauce and now /this/. when will it end, jason?! (✉️ ➡️ gnivil daed ): you're the WORST. (✉️ ➡️ gnivil daed ): i think i won't. in fact, i think i won't and i'll tell dick that you stole from me and i'll have a perfectly placed breakdown in tony's lab for attention about chips (✉️ ➡️ gnivil daed ): hassan probably ate them, huh? gotta grease his bandages

@mistressofmagic

( 📩 → zee’s magic funhouse (cash or card only) ): You’re out of chips, btw.  ( 📩 → zee’s magic funhouse (cash or card only) ): The GOOD chips, too. Which is a total bummer. ( 📩 → zee’s magic funhouse (cash or card only) ): So you should get some more when you’re able.  ( 📩 → zee’s magic funhouse (cash or card only) ): Not that I ate them. They were like this when I got here. 

[mistressofmagic-a]

(✉️ ➡️ zab ): we are. we're doing a weekly read tomorrow, actually. we sit around the table and read the worst ones before throwing them in the air and seeing if oliver can shoot it (✉️ ➡️ zab ): he never misses (✉️ ➡️ zab ): yeah we don't accept scrubs. (✉️ ➡️ zab ): tony is busy handling me. he can't handle you too (✉️ ➡️ zab ): are you going to start a team with your partner who you are already on a team with? (✉️ ➡️ zab ): if you're my assistant in my next show, i'll give you five dollars.

@mistressofmagic

(✉️ ➡️ top hat): do you know if the justice league is taking applications? (✉️ ➡️ top hat): none of the lanterns will lend me $5. i want to join a superhero team with people who have money. (✉️ ➡️ top hat): if the justice league is closed, do you think you can talk tony into making me an avenger? (✉️ ➡️ top hat): or, alternatively, do you want to start a superhero team with me? we can do our own thing. we can call it green magic or something. first order of business: can i borrow $5?

[mistressofmagic-a]

Zatanna’s gaze immediately dropped to his foot that was once again, wedged between her door and the frame. “This shit again? Really?” She should have known he was going to pull another stunt like this when Hassan had informed her it was Simon at the door. All the magic in the world and she couldn’t shake this one lantern. He was more annoying than Hal. And Bruce. Combined.

“The fate of the world is always in the balance — it’s kind of boring, actually. You’d think there would be a more interesting way to say that shit is about to hit the fan, hm?” But as much as she faked disinterest, her fingers were drumming against the knob of the door that she was still holding mostly shut. She wanted there to be a problem. Wanted to be needed. Wanted to do something. She knew that she was, and that the distance from the front line wasn’t so much for her safety as it was for her child’s, but she was restless.

“You’re an asshole,” she added, but she opened the door anyway. “I’ll give you thirty minutes, make it count.”

everyone gets theirs wings clipped at some point. // @mistressofmagic​

“No, no, no, no, no,” Simon protested, sticking his foot in the door before Zatanna could slam it shut. He was reasonably certain this wouldn’t stop her, even if she had to break a toe or two to do it, but he was clinging to the idea that it might slow her down, just a little. Because he really, really couldn’t afford to ‘have his wings clipped,’ as she put it.

Shit with the slime people was getting… not good. More and more of them seemed to be turning up, both in slime form and in disguise. It was beginning to look a little bit like something that rhymed with schimvasion, and Simon was pretty sure if that happened, the Corps were going to find some way to blame him. Simon didn’t need that right now. He didn’t need that ever, but especially not right now.

And Zee could help. He knew she could.

“Look, Zee, I just need — like, an hour of your time. Maybe two! Not to be dramatic, but the fate of the world literally depends on it!”

[mistressofmagic-a]

Zatanna had her hands in Tony’s hair while he spoke to her stomach, a grin on her face as she listened. “They’re very opinionated so they might have a few things to say about their OB-GYN. I mean, I always get a firm kick when she asks if they’ve been moving.” She twirled some of his hair around her finger. “You could also direct some of those kisses up here. I’m getting jealous.” And on cue, there was another push from the baby, a foot kicking in the direction of Tony as if to say that it wasn’t Zatanna’s turn yet.

“Dad knew,” she confessed. “I told him, actually. We hadn’t even met yet. I saw you on TV telling the world you were Iron Man and dad…” Zatanna trailed off, grinning at Tony as her hand dropped to touching his cheek. “You’d think he would have understood showmanship being a performer, but he was so critical of the whole thing. I told him right there that I was going to marry you.” She remembered the way her dad’s eyebrow twitched and his choice not to argue with her because she would fight him tooth and nail just to irritate him at that age. But Zatanna couldn’t explain it. Even through a TV screen she had felt some kind of pull towards him. “Maybe he always knew. He saw us at that party after all.”

Her dad, as much independence as he gave Zatanna, always had pull with her. They only had each other for so long. “I’m the only daughter — the only child in a Hispanic family, Tony. You were fighting a losing battle from the start.”

i loved you my whole life. || @mistressofmagic

“Of course you have,” Tony muttered, moving his head slightly to the side so he could press a kiss to Zatanna’s stomach. “It’s because you’re a fetus, kiddo. Your options are loving me or that weirdo OB-GYN, and I’m much more–” A thought occurred to Tony, and he looked up from his conversation with the baby, taking in Zatanna’s somewhat amused expression. “Oh. You’re talking. I thought it was…” He gestured vaguely towards her stomach, then pushed himself up on his elbows so he could meet his fiancee’s gaze instead.

It took a moment of looking at her for the words to settle in (of course, looking at her always brought Tony clarity, long before they were this). “Metaphorically, or … Either way, I’m into it.” Into her, which he proved by leaning forward, a grin forming on his face. “I know we’re not talking literally. If your dad knew–” He feigned a shudder, arm going around Zatanna to pull her closer. John knew him better than almost anyone else did when he was an angry teenager, but it was one thing to understand that rage and grief; another thing entirely to trust it with your daughter. “Sometimes I wonder,” he muttered, “if he’d be happy. If he’d give his permission, you know? For your hand in marriage.”

[mistressofmagic-a]

The words I’m sorry were in the back of her throat. Already choking on it because how could she apologize for this? How could she look him in the eyes after she conspired with Jean herself — how could she look at him and say that this wasn’t what she meant to do? It was a calculated move on her part. A promise that she had kept wrapped up with the pretty bow of being something she did to save the world. (The road to hell was paved with good intentions.)

Zatanna stood there, looking down at Jean with a burning sensation in her eyes that threated to be a full blow meltdown — but Scott’s voice came through and she thought… she didn’t have the right to be upset. This grief wasn’t hers to be had — it was his. It was theirs. The other mutants that lingered on the outskirts of the landscape, looking at the three of — the two of them and feeling that loss. Zatanna had time to mentally prepare herself for this moment. (And she had misused that time.)

She didn’t deserve to cry.

Straightening up, she looked at Scott, trying to ignore the body at her feet. “She did.” Two words were all the confession he’d need, but it didn’t feel like enough. Jean’s death shouldn’t be summed up in two words. “She tried to fight it but there was nothing in the library that offered a hint as to what would bring her down short of killing her.”

i’m sorry that we never told you. // @mistressofmagic​

Jean was dead. Jean was dead, and the world felt so much emptier than it had before. It felt so much harder to breathe. Scott couldn’t tear his eyes away from the body, and he felt sick just thinking the words. The body. Not Jean, who used to run her fingers through his hair when he lay his head in his lap. Not Jean, who once pointed up at the starry night sky and said I’m going to go there someday. Not Jean, who understood him better than anyone ever had. A body. Just a body.

He almost forgot Zatanna was there, which was stupid and wrong and maybe a little cruel, too. She was right there, on the other side of the body, and Scott almost forgot. And then she spoke, and he tore his eyes away from Jean’s hand sprawled out on the grass, away from her hair flowing behind her, away from her still chest. 

Zatanna looked shellshocked, looked desolate. Scott imagined he looked the same. He swallowed, closing his eyes so tightly that it burned. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. “She asked you to,” he said quietly, “didn’t she?”

[mistressofmagic-a]

ruleroflimbo​:

Illyana continued to flip through the sketchbook until she came to the last drawing. It was unfinished, not the only unfinished drawing in this particular sketchbook but unlike the others this one had a hard line going through most of the drawing. She’d been working on this specific drawing when she had a feeling which caused a reaction that had her hand moving unwilling across the page. Not long after she had, along with Katya, investigated what had caused the feeling, which in the end had resulted in Illyana’s death. “I think maybe you’re reading a little too much into meaningless sketches” she commented as she traced the lines of the drawing for a second. They were of course more than meaningless sketches, it was her way of expressing herself and her feelings when she couldn’t use words to do it, but Illyana would deny they were anything more.

Walking over to the mirror in the room she tossed the sketchbook into a pile of other things she wasn’t bringing with her when she moved. She ran her hand through her hair a few times. Zatanna had probably figured out Illyana was moving by now, she should probably still actually tell her that. Instead she kept running her fingers through her hair, “do you think I should cut my bangs again?” Deflecting and avoiding instead of just saying what she wanted to. “I kinda miss them.”

/

A smirk formed at the corner of Zatanna’s lips. Illyana was right. She was looking at the sketches that Illyana was discarding not like practice lines that she was sure others saw them as – but as works of art. Snapshots of a different time for both of them. A history in the form of pictures. And who were they if they didn’t have their history? What was their future if they didn’t have a past? And with a hand on her stomach, running over the curve that had formed in the past months, that worry she had felt was mixed with excitement and wonder. A new adventure just around the corner. “Maybe,” Zatanna offered with a shrug, forcing herself to look away from the sketches. “But I figure that’s my job, isn’t it? Offer world advice and hold onto every scrap of paper you ever sketched on?”

The book was thrown into a pile that looked like garbage. To either be thrown out or left behind and Zatanna wasted no time in picking it up. “Get clip in bangs. You can take them out if you get board and avoid that awkward growing out phase that happens with blunt bangs.”

[mistressofmagic-a]

twentyninetynines​:

Miguel’s shudder was dramatic and exaggerated and joking in a way that made the room feel a little lighter. “You’re a nun now. Please. Be a nun.” It was funny, in retrospect, the idea that their relationship really hadn’t changed much. What they found out in that lab when those words flashed across the monitor should have shifted everything in a new direction, should have redefined how they spoke to each other entirely, but it hadn’t. Zatanna was still his friend, even if her blood ran through his veins, even if it was his mother’s smile on her lips and his brother’s flash of mischief in her eyes. They were friends long before they were family. Miguel was relieved that they’d held on to that, in spite of everything. “I would find a way to fit in. I’d be king of the eighties. And all without having to deal with you!” She was absolutely right, of course, even if he’d never admit it. Miguel had a hard enough time with the shitty tech of this time. He wouldn’t even begin to know how to use a brick phone. The thought of it sounded horrifying. “And what is it you always say about that not counting? Respect your elders, memaw.” His tone was dry, sarcastic, familiar. He knew how to do this better than he’d ever known how to do family. (Maybe this was what family was supposed to be, anyway.)

He was safe here. On some level, he knew that. On some level, he understood that Zee and Tony were heroes and people loved them for it, that Captain America was on posters on bedroom walls and that Superman was cheered when he flew across the skyline. But some habits were hard to break, some things were so ingrained in your psyche that you could never be rid of them entirely. In Miguel’s time, heroism and death went hand in hand. It was hard to shake the panic from his mind at the thought of being unmasked even when the mask was an utterly unnecessary accessory. 

“Seriously? Why? What did I do to deserve this?” There was an unmistakable whine to his tone, like a child in desperate need of a nap. Of course, it was all for show. Miguel might not enjoy the zaps Zee sent his way (who would?) but he didn’t mind them as much as he pretended to, either. There was a certain fondness to them that he recognized, like when Gabri called him an idiot or when Xina rolled her eyes at him. There were some levels of exasperation that could only come with love. Miguel knew that better than most. The flickering bothered him far more than the zapping, if only because each terrifying blink came with the somber knowledge that this time, he might not resolidify. “You’re gonna make yourself go gray,” he told her, because it was easier. It was so much easier falling back into teasing than it was to recognize the gravity of it all, the ache. Miguel had always been so bad at anything real.

"Okay," Zatanna said, pretending to consider his request. "But remember, if I turn into a nun, then the flickering increases, doesn't it?" She touched her chin, tapping the center a few times before smirking at him. "I mean, you can't exist if I'm not promiscuous." There was a glitter of humor in her eyes as she watched him, knowing that the more she said, the more uncomfortable and frustrated he'd become. Their friendship had been rooted in that, and maybe, one day, that would change. Maybe she'd open her eyes and realize that she should pull back on all these things that she shared with him because there was a line of allowing herself to be known by her grandson - and allowing him to see every shadow in her life at the same time.

Like the things she was supposed to protect him from. Like the family he had gotten, that didn't include her or Tony in the future. And again, she knew they must have been dead long before he was born if they hadn't been there for him. It was the only way that could have happened - but what use was it, torturing herself over a future that had taken hold of him? Zatanna swallowed those feelings, focusing on the time she had with him now. It was easy this way to pretend that they could change the future without ruining him in the process. Pretend like this was normal. "I'll get you a cane for your birthday then, old man."

Zatanna rolled her eyes at his question, deciding the answer was painfully obvious (just as painful as that whine in his tone just now). "You were born. So, you know, welcome to the family and all that. Comes with some exclusive zapping, a roll of the dice on magical potential, scientific genius that borders on insanity... I could go on." Her nose wrinkled at the thought, irritated not at the suggestion, but at the accuracy. "Yeah," she grumbled, scoffing at him as she turned away. "Illyana has already done that a few times. I'll probably end up gray before Tony." Though he was already wearing a salt and pepper look, Zatanna, if she allowed it, would join him quickly. "Not a challenge, by the way," she warned, glaring in his direction. "You quicken up this process and I'll up the voltage."

[mistressofmagic-a]

avengerofiron​:

(✉️ ➡️ bella): i never really thought about a pet before i met you, you know (✉️ ➡️ bella): you’ve corrupted me (✉️ ➡️ bella): do you have that face? i’ve never seen it before (✉️ ➡️ bella): clearly instagram has done you dirty. i see top cat hats all the time (✉️ ➡️ bella): how hard could it really be? they’re just cats, they can feed themselves (✉️ ➡️ bella): what if i get you banned from the library doing something /really/ nice? (✉️ ➡️ bella): i’m your baby (✉️ ➡️ bella): in a sexy way, not a weird way (✉️ ➡️ bella): though i do have mommy issues so you know (✉️ ➡️ bella): maybe a weird way /and/ a sexy way

(✉️ ➡️ mi amor ): you have, maybe not in the traditional sense, but you added to your family in other ways, FRIDAY and DUM-e (✉️ ➡️ mi amor ): a shame that FRIDAY knows i called her a pet now huh :/ (✉️ ➡️ mi amor ): and i'd gladly corrupt you again :) (✉️ ➡️ mi amor ): img.jpg [it's a picture of zee with drawn on whiskers] (✉️ ➡️ mi amor ): are you sure those cats arent magical? (✉️ ➡️ mi amor ): LMAO only if we have a rat infestation and we do not (✉️ ➡️ mi amor ): do we? (✉️ ➡️ mi amor ): actually don't tell me i don't want to know (✉️ ➡️ mi amor ): depends on how nice (✉️ ➡️ mi amor ): and how long i get banned i like the library (✉️ ➡️ mi amor ): you are my baby, yes (✉️ ➡️ mi amor ): tony (✉️ ➡️ mi amor ): tony stop talking. (✉️ ➡️ mi amor ): i adore you but I'm closing my eyes to that whole last bit (✉️ ➡️ mi amor ): otherwise, we have to face my daddy issues and I'm not doing that today

[mistressofmagic-a]

twentyninetynines​:

“You know,” Miguel chuckled, “I actually get that a lot.” For all that he’d inherited from his father (far more than he’d admit to sharing with him), Tyler’s skills in lying hadn’t been among them. Miguel didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad one, most days. “Those are both terrible. Christ. I’ll stick with O’Hara.” It was almost funny — Miguel’s surname came from a man he had no biological ties to whatsoever, a man who he’d hated and who had had hated him just as much. And still, it felt lighter than the idea of taking on Tony or Zee’s or a combination of the two. At least he didn’t have to worry about disparaging George’s family legacy. His stepfather had done that all on his own. “If I said yes, would you believe me?” He grinned, because it was another lie and she probably knew it. There weren’t any barns in 2099. The fact that Miguel barely knew what a cow was was proof enough of that. “Sorry, my brains always manage to stick around. If I haven’t managed to rot them out of my skull yet, I don’t think you’ve got a chance.” 

Frustration was clear on Zatanna’s face, and Miguel hadn’t really meant to hit a soft spot but apparently he’d found one anyway. He snorted at the revelation, filing the information away for later. It was good, he’d learned, to know the best ways to annoy people. “He’s dead,” Miguel pointed out, “so I guess he probably is eating dirt, in a sense. And I don’t need proof. I’m right.” Now that he knew it bothered her, he’d hold his position to the grave. Which�� wasn’t saying as much as it used to, given how close the grave was these days. “Just because you don’t get my culture doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. I’ve got loads of culture.” He pulled a face at her slang term, rolling his eyes. “Shock, you’re retro.” It was a familiar dig… and not entirely a fair one, given the fact that they were in a decade where the term was still relevant. He offered her a small smile at her affirmation, finding himself looking forward to the idea of her sharing her culture. “I’d like that, I think. You know, uh… My costume is from a Día de Muertos festival. Gabri dragged me to one in Mexico once.” It was just about the only connection he’d ever had to his culture, and it had been saturated and watered down to boost tourism but he’d felt something for it all the same even if he’d spent half the trip needing Gabri to do his best attempts at translating. 

Zatanna didn’t know if that was a compliment or an insult, even coming from her. But considering who he was related to and all the shit that he had gone through — maybe it was a little good. It meant part of him would always have to be honest. And the way he fought to pretend to be anyone else than who he was, she was thankful for that. He’d always have to be a part of Miguel — always have to be part her and Tony. Even if he wouldn’t take their last names. “They’re great,” she corrected. “That’s our family legacy, don’t knock it.” While she didn’t believe his mother had given him much growing up, certainly not love, she doubted that she would have taken Miguel to a barn to raise him — if they even existed in 2099. What small parts she had seen looked like something from a futuristic movie where people got their full nutrition from pills and didn’t actually eat anything at all. (That, and she didn’t think the corporation had left anything remotely close to what a farm was.) “I’d say you oversold the evil corporation dystopian future.” Zatanna shrugged, but the grin on her face told another story. Wondering if she willed it hard enough if it would just happen. There was a chance. And that was all Zatanna really needed.

“It’s not 2099, now is it? He could be alive.” Or alive in the near-ish future. Though what constituted ‘near’ here — 2099 felt so close, but 2050 felt like a thousand years from now. "I'm just saying it's a shitty culture. That's all." If she had felt that he actually cared for any of that - she might have backed off. (Doubtful, considering who she was - she would have double-downed and shown him how many terrible things his 'culture' included. " But she knew as far as 2099 went, they were on the same page. It sucked. "Retro." Zatanna rolled her eyes. "Classic. You really need to work on your vocabulary. All you know is 'shock' and 'retro' and... brooding." There was a connection in the suit that he wore as armor. It protected him and his identity in a future that was twisted and warped into a position that was meant to hurt him. "Let me guess - you didn't understand what was going on but the locals didn't take tourist as an excuse not to live?"

[mistressofmagic-a]

twentyninetynines​:

(✉️ ➡️ memaw): thanks it’s genetic (✉️ ➡️ memaw): whatever you say :) (✉️ ➡️ memaw): first of all, i read plenty of books that aren’t about sequencing dna. i also read books about nucleic acids. (✉️ ➡️ memaw): no. i like google. it’s very helpful. (✉️ ➡️ memaw): i am. (✉️ ➡️ memaw): what the shock is bedazzle? we’re not doing that.

(✉️ ➡️ nieto ): yeah i've met your grandfather. both of them :) (✉️ ➡️ nieto ): one of these days you'll learn your lesson (✉️ ➡️ nieto ): that sounds digusting. and boring. and horrible. and sad. and basically the worst experience any single person could have, i think (✉️ ➡️ nieto ): ask jeeves next time (✉️ ➡️ nieto ): no (✉️ ➡️ nieto ): i thought you liked google? maybe you should try it for this one!

[mistressofmagic-a]

immortalweapon​:

“You can’t ask your fans, Zatanna. They’re biased.” It was a poor hill to die on, Danny knew, because it wouldn’t be hard to prove him wrong even if she were to ask someone less biased than the fans who came to her shows. But Danny wasn’t known for backing down, particularly not when he was having a good time with the argument. And arguing with Zee was always a little fun. “We can bet. I like bets. I’m good at them.” It was a boldfaced lie — he hadn’t won a single bet since returning to New York. Since before, probably, even if all the ones he made in K’un Lun only ended with him giving Davos portions of his meals.

There was a lot he didn’t understand about the way the world worked. When you left society at the age of ten and reentered it very suddenly fifteen years later, that was sort of a given. But… Zee was less impatient in teaching him than most, and Danny knew he owed her a lot for that. He flashed her a brief smile. “So… this is you being a bully, then?” There was a teasing lilt to his voice. “We are not! I bet there’s all kinds of good food that you don’t like.”

/

“That means I can’t ask anyone,” Zatanna argued, as if the entire world was at her feet at any given moment. It was possible, if she was willing to dabble in that kind of far reaching magic, but she didn’t tell him that. She might threaten Miguel with that though, he’d react far worse to the idea of her having a dramatic villain origin story than Danny would. Danny was too good to believe that she’d fall that far from where she was now. “Do a lot of gambling do you? That’s a dangerous addiction, you know. You’re lucky you’ve got the money to cover your expenses when you bet on the wrong horse.”

Her mouth opened, and then immediately shut. A hush falling over her as she stared at him. “I’m not teaching you things so you can use them against me.” But he had used it correctly - and he was right. She was definably bullying him. “I don’t like meat for one,” she offered, grinning at his accusation. “But that’s a moral thing. You can’t hold that preference against me. But not liking waffles? That’s an act against God, Danny. The worst preference you could have.”

[mistressofmagic-a]

glxrious-purpose​:

“Oh, so that is my fault as well? Do forgive me.” As if being a man was not enough, he was being an old man, apparently. Though Loki did not like to think of his centuries of existence as being “old,” he certainly was by Midgard standards. “Surely I sound like one because I am, though I do not appreciate the derogatory connotation of being more advanced in years. I prefer to say I am more experienced.” She was experienced, even he knew that, but she was also still a mortal, and that meant she was not above making a error. “No chance? Really? None whatsoever?” Zatanna’s sarcasm was more appreciated than her denial of the possibility of her making a mistake, and Loki offered her a decidedly condescending shake of his head. And naturally now she was expecting him to clean up her mess. He sighed. “A god’s work is never done, clearly. At least you recognize when to ask for help from a superior being.” He could not say for sure if he could fix him, but the odds were good. “I don’t know. Are you going to ask me nicely?”

/

“Yes! That is your fault too, thank you for agreeing with me.” That wasn’t at all what had happened, but it was clear that Zatanna was happy to close her eyes and pretend in this one scenario. (Loki had never been one to let her win any arguments, so if he was going to fight in a way that was… far cheaper than she was used to, she’d take the easy victory.) “People in this realm would call that out of touch — or crusty. Might want to watch yourself when you brag about that.” She shrugged, letting the words linger. “Absolutely no chance.” Asking Loki for help came with… strings. It always did. Even as she tried to play it off as something he had done that he needed to fix — he was telling her to ask nicely.

Which was normal. And the exact same thing that Zatanna would have done if he had screwed up badly enough to need her help. (She was going to be absolutely thrilled when that day finally arrived.) “Nicely or are you going on about getting on my knees and begging — because I’ll say please, but I’ll never do that last part.”

[mistressofmagic-a]

mistressofmagic​:

/

The world had never been fair to people like them. It took everything, their parents, their childhoods, every moment that should have been sacred, was doused with a different fire that threatened to ruin them at a moment’s notice. They had learned to find love in the crevices of the worst places, holding onto feelings and people they probably shouldn’t because being around someone who wasn’t a match for you was better than being alone. And she understood that impulse too. The thought of walking out that door without Dick was terrifying. She was wondering who she’d lean on now - if anyone at all.

Maybe this was better. Not having a team. Not leaning on anyone else. Not worrying about anyone else and just focusing on the work. “I know you are.” Dick never hurt the people he loved intentionally. He wore his heart on his sleeve and he was the first one to jump in front of a bullet for a person - even a stranger. He was good in all the ways that Zatanna wished she could be. But being good didn’t mean they were compatible. And he deserved someone who could follow that same path he was one. Someone who would make him a better version of himself rather than pushing against everything he believed in and arguing with him over the smallest of things.

He deserved to be happy. And Zatanna knew that wasn’t going to happen at her side. (And she knew she wasn’t going to find that for herself at his, either.)

“I’m sorry too,” she whispered in response. The posture she had been forcing herself into finally crumbling as she realized that they were at the end. That this… all of it, was over. Her father had died, she had broken up with her boyfriend… and none of it felt like a fresh start. But what was a fresh start supposed to look like? What had it looked like when her father had lost her mother?

Inhaling sharply, she nodded her head. Staying would have been easier. He could have sat with her and they could have maybe talked about things over a cup of tea - but all those things were… it was too much for Zatanna. Right now, she needed space. She needed to breathe without someone else at her side. She needed to grieve her relationship and her father and figure out what she was supposed to do now.

(Maybe that empty feeling was the fresh start. Telling her it was all waiting to be filled with something new.)

“I think that might be for the best,” Zatanna said thickly, her voice barely above a whisper because she knew if she was too loud she’d end up in a worse state than she was already in. “Goodbye, Dick.”

/

Things were meant to get easier the more you did them. Dick had practiced flips and trapeze tricks since he’d first learned to toddle from one side of the room to the other, had gone from all scrapes and bruises to landing on his feet time and time again. He’d trained as Robin until his bloody fingers turned to callouses, did the same for Nightwing. Practice made perfect, and doing something over and over again was supposed to pay off in the end. You were supposed to get better at it, supposed to learn to breathe around the strain in your chest and adjust to the pounding of your heart.

But he still didn’t know how to be left like this.

He should have. At this point, he really should have learned how to pick up the pieces when someone was gone, because he’d done it so often now that it was second only to those flips and tricks in the context of things he had experience with. His parents slipped through his fingers, Bruce fired him, Jason died, the Titans broke up… losing people should have been easy by now, but Dick still felt like he had the first time he’d ever leaped from one roof to the next. His knees hurt with the impact, anxiety was choking out adrenaline, and his heart was in his throat. He should be better at this. He should be so much better.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he told her quietly, because what had she done but let him go? It wasn’t her fault that tragedy had put the rest of the world in perspective, wasn’t her fault that Dick was so clingy and so terrified of being left that he would beg anyone to love him no matter how much they needed him gone. All Zee had ever done was what she thought was right. For herself, for him, for the world. 

And still, part of him hoped she’d ask him to stay. Part of him held onto that selfish, stupid desire that she’d pull out a chair and let him sit down, that she’d change her mind and love him again even when this had been over for a while now. This wasn’t the end, he knew — the end happened a long time ago. This was just the two of them admitting to it. 

Swallowing, Dick nodded his head and turned, walking to the door. He hesitated in the entryway for a moment, chest tight. “Goodbye, Zee,” he whispered back, the words settling into the air between them. Before he could lose himself in the weight of them, he stepped through the door. He pretended the distance eased the pain. He pretended anything would.

[mistressofmagic-a]

Zatanna was trying not to laugh at him as this random cat clung to his shirt, crawling up his back and across his shoulders, trying to get a taste of the food in his hands. And for a second, she thought it was the most hilarious thing she had ever seen. At first, she was smiling and covering her mouth and innocently looking around like she hadn’t seen a damn thing — pretending to spare his dignity.

But then it clicked. All at once she looked at him and then swatted at the cat too. That was her food in his hands too. “Fuck off—“ she was making no progress. The cat seemed to only dig their claws deeper into Jason. “You don’t mess with a pregnant woman’s food, don’t cats know that?”

“The pregnant ones always have the best food.” He wasn’t wrong. But he was a bastard.

(STREET FIGHTER): for OUR MUSES to get jumped by a gang of feral animals. @mistressofmagic​

Jason didn’t really think that going out for food with Zatanna would turn into this. Attempting to shake off a cat who was clinging onto his jacket on his back for dear life, babbling on to him that he needed a hair cut while another cat was seemingly clinging to Zee as well in front of the deli they had settled on for food. “Literally what the fuck. Zee, make them stop!” He sputtered, shaking his head as the cat moved up onto his shoulder. “I just wanted to get a sandwich. That’s all I wanted. Now I’m being attacked by a feral cat. Literally what the fuck even is my life—” 

“You should really cut your hair—” The cat mused out loud, yowling in irritation when Jason tried to shake him off again.

[mistressofmagic-a]

twentyninetynines​:

“Yeah, because a maniac figured it was the best way to get rid of me!” She had a point, of course, even if Miguel would never admit to it. Twice now, he’d run into Zee long before he should have, met her when he shouldn’t have even been born yet. Gabri would say it was like the universe was trying to tell them something, a phrase he used largely to piss Miguel off. The universe doesn’t speak, Miguel used to insist, and Gabri would grin and shake his head and say it does if you shut up long enough to listen, Migs. But listening had never been his strong suit, and this… This wasn’t something he was sure he wanted to hear. He didn’t want to dig into what it might mean, why it might insist on happening again and again. In spite of his curious nature, Miguel had learned a long time ago that there were some answers you were better off not knowing. “I am not short. And I’m telling Tony you said that!” As if Tony would care, given the source. Miguel couldn’t imagine Tony holding anything against Zee. Not anymore.

He clicked his tongue at the threat, shaking his head. “You’re gonna zap me for being too much like you? That’s cold, Zee.” But then she turned it around on him, and Miguel sputtered with an expression that made it clear just how offended he was. “I have multiple degrees,” he reminded her for what was probably the thousandth time. “PhDs! And my charm is all me. You’re not charming. Tony’s not charming. I’m charming.” It was total bullshit, because Zee and Tony could both charm their way out of a paper bag with ease, but Miguel was nothing if not stubborn. (It occurred to him that he’d probably gotten that from her, too.) 

She made a good point, and he nodded thoughtfully. “Probably not easy to do fluidly in battle.” The thing about body language was that it was difficult to control. It was something your body did all on its own, with or without your permission. But if you could find a way to control it, even in a limited sense? There was a chance it could save Zee’s life. And Miguel had a pretty vested interest in doing that, one that would have existed even if his life hadn’t depended on hers. He watched as she attempted the moves he’d demonstrated, grinning when the second one yielded a result. “Okay, so, body language works,” he nodded, satisfied. “That’s good to know.”

/

"Well, they were right! You're stuck here. So, can't fault them on logic at least. Just wish they had picked a different time. One with dinosaurs would have been better for your attitude." Their life and their meeting, it wasn't a traditional one. Miguel was forced out of the time that he had called home and found himself stranded here and he was making something out of it. Zatanna couldn't claim that he was making the best out of it, he avoided making any real connections. Falling back on a thousand excuses that he had made up to say that allowing himself to get close to anyone would only hurt more people when he died. And she couldn't argue with him that once people knew him that losing him would hurt - but she couldn't imagine how lonely it was to isolate himself the way he intended to. And how horrible that death would be for him, if he were as alone as he wanted to be. "When you see him, make sure you tell him that I said: we love a short king."

Zatanna opened her mouth and thought about it for a moment, considering that she had constantly been telling him that this was a chance for him to meet his family and find out what family meant to her and Tony - what they had faced and what they were trying to turn it into... She hated it when Miggy had a point. "Not for that exactly," she murmured. "But for some other reason. I have a shopping list. You're very annoying. Which is unique to you." Zatanna opened her mouth, tempted to ruin his entire night with a few reasons why Tony was definitely charming (there were too many videos to prove it - hopefully Miguel would never see those), and when it came to herself? She couldn't pretend to buy what he was selling here. "You really didn't inherit any of our charms..." Zatanna sighed deeply, feigning disappointment.

"Chances are after they take my voice they won't be looking at me much anyway, so it'll give me a chance to steady myself to try this." But that was heavily reliant on the enemy underestimating her. And that was... just as unlikely as her being able to flinch in reverse at a moment's notice. "Defeats what I was trying to teach you here if I ever went off the deep end and you needed to stop me... you just gave me another tool to use against you in battle instead." But her tone was dripping with pride. She would have never thought this up on her own without him. Just like she wouldn't have considered that magic and science might be similar if Tony hadn't been so passionate about his position on the matter. They were a strange family, but they were better together.