#diana might even need to be taller

[soupinaboot]

In my opinion, Bruce should be above average height or at least average. But since he surrounds himself with demi-gods, aliens, meta humans, etc, he's just dwarfed next to them. Like maybe about 6'1 or 6'2, but that's NOTHING compared to Diana '7'3 feet tall' Prince. Or Clark '6'9' Kent.

All the tabloids claim he has to be at least 5 feet tall because the only photos they can get of him are when he's next to his giant ass friends.

It is also my personal headcannon that all the robins stay shorter than him, except Jason, who should be at least 4 inches taller.

[ismelinor]

Nothing Personal

My contribution to Fictober 2023, using prompt 5 from this list: Fine, explain it to me. No archive warnings apply.

Read on AO3 | words: 914 | tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober2023

Summary: Scully feels like Mulder was manipulating her emotions with that almost-kiss in Fight the Future. She decides to give him a taste of his own medicine when they're fighting about Diana.

“You’re making this personal.”

Oh, for Christ’s sakes. She turned on him, eyes like fire, and he had the good grace to look a little scared.

“Mulder, you are chronically incapable of not making things personal. Every case we work becomes your personal crusade. Every death is your cross to bear. Every decision I make you somehow twist to make about you.” She injected enough venom into that last one so she knew he'd think of Jerse without her having to say the name.

“That’s not-”

“No, it is, Mulder, and I’m sick to death of it.” To her horror, there were tears in her eyes. Mulder was doing his panic face; he could never stand to see her cry.

He took hold of her hands. “Scully, I swear, I never meant to hurt you.”

She wrenched her hands away. “This is exactly what I’m talking about, Mulder! It’s always personal when you want something, isn’t it? When you want me to believe you, I’m your one in five billion. When you want me to stay with the FBI, you make a pretty speech and try to kiss me. Now you want me to stop arguing with you, so you never meant to hurt me. What about the rest of the time?”

Mulder blinked at her. “I always-”

“How would you feel if I tried that on you? If, instead of coming to you with the facts about Diana Fowley, I did this.” She stepped up to him, close enough that they’d be nose-to-nose if she were a foot taller, and put her hands over his heart.

“Mulder,” she said, soft and low so he had to lean in to listen. “You have to believe me. If you’re not with me on this, no one else on this planet will be. I know Diana’s your friend-” He leaned back slightly at the reminder of what this was about, but she pulled him back in with a gentle hand to his jaw. “-but I need you.”

She stepped back and said, in her normal tone, “Would that have worked?”

Mulder looked whiplashed. “Probably,” he croaked.

Victory didn’t taste that sweet after all. She was just tired, and a little embarrassed at how much she’d revealed. “There you go, then,” she sighed.

“It’s not like that, though. Do you really think I tried to kiss you so you’d stay with the FBI?”

She frowned. They were getting into muddy waters now; she should never have brought that up. “It might not have been your conscious intention, but-”

“It wasn’t my unconscious intention either. I know I can be an asshole sometimes, Scully, but I’d never-”

“What, manipulate my emotions? Isn’t that exactly what we’ve been talking about here?”

Mulder flared his nostrils in annoyance. “You might think that I’m some master of manipulation, but here’s the truth: I tried to kiss you because I wanted to. There was no Machiavellian plan, nor was there one when I was in a mental hospital trying to get you on my side. I just want you with me, all the time, because I’m a sucker and it makes me happy.”

Scully stared at him. She’d stopped following him at ‘because I wanted to’. “Why?” she asked, dumbly.

“Why does it make me happy?”

That wasn’t what she’d meant, but it was close enough. She shrugged.

Mulder smiled slightly. “I already told you: I love you.”

He had told her that before – and that time, he hadn’t even wanted anything from her. Naturally, she’d assumed it was the co-codamol that was so sure he loved her (and that she’d saved the world on a ghost ship in 1939). “There are lots of different ways of loving someone,” she settled on eventually.

Mulder groaned. “Fine, explain it to me. Tell me all the different ways you can love someone, and I’ll tell you which it is.”

“You can love someone like a sibling,” she said slowly, half-hoping and half-fearing that he’d stop her. “Like an annoying little sister you have to argue every little point with.” Mulder smiled but kept schtum. “Or like a friend. A best friend. Someone you’d lay down your life for.” She raised her eyebrows, but Mulder said nothing. She swallowed. “You can love someone with the love we’re supposed to have for all mankind. Agape.” Mulder rolled his eyes.

“Or…you can love someone like…like a lover. Like a man loves a woman. Like she’s your…your…”

“Your one in five billion?”

“Yes, like that.”

“Ding, ding. That’s the one, Scully.”

“Really?” Well, it wasn’t the worst thing she’d said in response to a love confession.

“Yes, really. God, why are you so difficult? I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. If you want to talk about Diana, I’ll hear you out: we’ll discuss it properly. But there’s something I’d rather do right now.”

“What’s that?” she asked, trying to bite back her smile.

He cupped her cheeks and murmured “this” against her lips.

Her eyes were just closing when a throat cleared from across the room. She spun around and there, standing in a row, were Byers, Frohike and Langly. They had matching expressions of wide-eyed disbelief. She couldn’t help laughing, but the breath was stolen from her as Mulder spun her back into him and kissed her.

There were whistles and cheers erupting from behind her, but she barely registered them until Mulder pulled away just long enough to say, “Piss off, boys.”

[sassyfrassboss]

I truly think he was manipulated by her and was too dumb to realize it until after it was too late...which was probably about a couple weeks ago...

He is dumb, but dumb is not the same as innocent. He is not a naive person, he has bad intentions and that's why I don't believe he was conned.

I sent an ask to soap talking about this, BUT I will say it again. Meghan didn't put any ideas in Harry's head, it was all him, all of it. He wanted to be bigger than William, he wanted a wife that people would like more than Catherine he wanted to be important in the firm dynamic. For me this was very clear by the PR around Meghan before the wedding, they centered on things Kate had been criticized for, it was always a dig at her. Meghan had a "successful career", was a "self made millionaire", was a feminist, was good at public speaking, was going to hit the ground running etc. And everyone just assumed that was all Meghan's jealousy, but I think it was Harry's as well, for one because he knows where to hit, he knows William will be more upset at a shot at Kate than one at himself, secondly he wanted the world to know how much better for the position his wife was, he made the better pick.

He truly believes Meghan is just like Diana, and in a way, he is not wrong, because the image he has of Diana is unrealistic, the version that he sees is the woman who spoiled him and called him good king Harry, that insisted he should be treated the same as William, the one who was an idol to everyone. He doesn't know any other parts of Diana like William did for being her confidant, he didn't know her in any other way, he never really knew Diana, and it shows.

But the thing is he always felt entitled to be treated the same way as William, to have everything he has, and how unfair it was that William didn't even have to make any effort, that he was taller, more handsome, more likable, the heir, would get the position and the money, and what does Harry get? For him it is just not fair. The palace dropped a ton of money on PR for him, and finally he had something, people liked him a bit more, but it had to be bittersweet, Wiiliam never needed all that, he did believe the hype tho.

Then Meghan comes along, and she is the first one to ever tell him that he was right, it wasn't fair that he wasn't treated the same as William, that he should be ( just like mum said), that he was just so much better, he saw the opportunity. On the surface Meghan is much better than Kate (as her PR likes to point out), she was perfect for the job, she was not shy, didn't mind the media, quite the contrary she had no shame and he knew would do whatever it takes with him, they would get married and the world was going to fall in love with them just like with his mum, and they would have whatever they wanted from RF because they would be desperate for their star power, bonus points because she is biracial and the woke crowd would love them, they would make history.

The problem is Meghan might appear better on the surface, but she has no substance, she is shallow and doesn't deliver. No one will ever be able to convince me that they (even Meghan) planned to leave from the beginning, they didn't, they wanted to have thei cake and eat it too. They wanted to be global stars and adored, the problem tho is the money, they could be stars bigger than William but he wouldn't get the money and they can't stand W&K having more, that is not a problem tho there's a lot of money out there for the taking like Harry himself said. What they wanted to do it was something along the lines of what William did with Apple for the podcast, use their position to get deals, that's why they approached Netflix while still working royals, but the thing is, they wanted to be paid, William donated what would be his money from the podcast to 4 charities, H&M didn't want to do that. They tought if they were big enough stars the RF would make concessions for them (that's why Harry showed William how much he and Meghan were researched as a way to prove their popularity) , but despite their delusions they never got to be global superstars, and the RF was not willing to concede, they kept getting nos, they were not allowed their own court like William, the palace was not going to respond to the media on every little thing like they wanted to.

So, they decided that the Palace was just stifling them, they didn't want them to be successful like Diana was, they had to have some freedom, so they wanted half in half out, they would get their IPP and security, Charles was going to keep providing them money to pay their team, they would go to the big special occasions to keep the family connections while instead of wasting their time on boring engagements, they would be making money and building their independent profile. The RF said no, either in or out.

So no I do not think he was conned, I do not think he saw the light of who Meghan is because I genuinely believe he is worse than her, she never did to her family what he did to his, all she does is discard and ghost people, he slandered them, and allowed her to do the same. One day, he will realise there's no way for him to succeed without the RF, because he has nothing, no talent, no skills, all he has is his "birthright", that is the only special thing about him, his wife ain't much better. He will drop Meghan like she a sack of popatoes, and not because "he saw who she is" but because he won't stay on a sinking ship, his family will never take the lifeboat away from him.

Absolutely excellent.

I do agree with you. While I think Harry is beyond stupid, he 100% was on board with a lot of what Meghan was doing.

I do think she manipulated him in a way that brought out the worst in him. Such as when he took William and Catherine to task for not being more welcoming to Meghan. Meghan was said to have sat on the couch quietly while Harry berated W&C. Meghan definitely knew how to push his buttons to get the results she wanted. This is why Catherine invited her to Wimbledon.

But yes, Harry was on board. It was made obvious Meghan and Harry felt they were just as equal to William and Catherine when they tried to crash the PoW anniversary ceremony.

However, while Charles and Granny might not take the life boat away, I think William will. Harry went too far too many times in his quest for adoration and greed at the expense of William and his family.

William is not one to forgive.

[drinkingpoison]

Proselfship Advent day eight: meeting the families 🪞

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ 📓

Using Adam, yet another very long time kin of mine, and Lawrence.

Bringing your victim boyfriend and your daughter to a family gathering might bring up some anxiety.

technically a chainshipping fic, I know. But me projecting and fantasizing about life with him after the game.

Adam had gotten out of bed far earlier this morning than he normally would, spending the last hour or so pacing in their small apartment bathroom, agonizing over every little detail pertaining to the trip they were heading out on later in the day. It was supposed to be fun, a way for him to be introduced to their extended family, a simple day trip to Diana's grandparents house. Meeting his older, doctor boyfriend's parents.

Oh god, how could he seriously be expected to do this? He'd never met someone's parents, all him and ex partners got up to was hanging out in basements smoking dope. He looked like a god damn drowned rat next to Lawrence, like some kind of mongrel shoved in a cute sweater.

"God damnit... I'll just tell him I can't do this. Next time. Next stupid holiday -"

"Adam? Are you alright in there?"

The gruff, sleepy voice coming through the door immediately jolted the brunette out of his anxious trance, jumping nearly a foot in the air as if he'd been caught doing something wrong.

It certainly felt like he had, suddenly feeling an intense guilt for being stuck in here questioning himself at all. Lawrence deserves a confident, nice partner to show off to his folks - what on earth was he thinking even suggesting taking someone like Adam along with him? When he had his little girl? Just imagining the judgemental stares had him shuddering to himself, momentarily forgetting there was someone right outside the door waiting for an answer.

"Hey, what's going on? We don't have to be up for a while.."

Tired of waiting for a response, the previously sleeping man had gently pushed the door open, standing there in his underwear, rubbing his eye and squinting at the bright florescent light. The sight of his taller, hairy, pudgy, half-naked boyfriend was enough to momentarily short circuit Adam's brain, a peachy pink slowly rising on his cheeks as his woes retreated to the back of his mind for a brief second.

"Oh uhm - Haha, I'm fine! Just, uh, thinking about what I'm going to say, and wear, and... Fuck. Everything."

Shoulders slumping in defeat, he couldn't hide from the rain cloud of anxiety hanging over his head for long, though it was tempting to run right back to bed and bury himself in the pair of warm, protective arms waiting there. The morning would still come creeping up in just a few hours, bringing with it the dreadful event he so feared while leaving him no time to try and back out. No, dealing with this had to come first. He'd rather disappoint Lawrence in their own home rather than in the company of his entire family.

"I don't think I should do this. I don't think I CAN do this. You and Diana should just go have a fun time, without me there to embarrass you b-"

"Adam. Adam stop, baby listen to me."

His lover's arms wrapping around his waist from behind quickly cut off the frantic rambling, words stuck in his throat as he instinctually leaned into the warmth against his back, releasing some of the built up tension with a heavy sigh. How did his touch just make everything feel so much better in an instant? It wasn't fair.

"But I-"

"Shh. It's going to be fine, you're going to do fine. Promise me you'll just be you? That's all I want."

"That can't possibly be -"

Cut off once again, yelping embarrassingly in surprise as he was suddenly turned away from the mirror by a pair of rough hands now wrapped around his hips, forced to come face to face with the pair of half-lidded, pretty blue eyes that had butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

"It is what I want. You need to trust me, listen to me just this once. Can you do that for me?"

"I.. I can try- Mmph!"

Grunting softly against the way his words were caught in a kiss, his hands coming up to drape around the larger man's shoulders, at least momentarily giving into the temptation to allow his worries to slip away and focus on the way Lawrence's scruffy upper lip scratched his own, or the way his softly exploring tongue sent shivers right up his spine.

"Good boy. That's all I ask, everyone will love you just as much as me and Diana."

[razieltwelve]

Role Reversal (Final Rose AU Snippet)

"You know,” Diana said. “I remember when I used to look up to you.”

Weiss scowled. “Don’t even start.”

“I was young and innocent then,” Diana continued blithely. “And very, very short. Now, however, I am decidedly less innocent and way less short.” Her lips twitched. “You’re decidedly less innocent too, but you’re still short.”

Weiss bonked Diana over the head with one petite fist. “Could you stop?”

Diana clutched at her head. “I think I’ve got brain damage. Call an ambulance.”

“You do have brain damage, you twit, and I am most certainly not calling an ambulance.” Weiss rolled over and tugged the blankets tighter. “Now, do the proper thing as serve as my heater.”

“Your wish is my command.” Diana obliged and wrapped her arms around Weiss, pulling the shorter woman closer. “But I have to ask... are you only with me for the awesome sex and my ability to function as a heater?”

Weiss couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “The awesome sex certainly doesn’t hurt, and you are a lot cuddlier than a normal heater.”

Diana chuckled. “Seriously, though, Weiss. I do look up to you.” She paused. “And not just because I can hold you over my head. The way you’ve dealt with your father disowning you has been very admirable.” She pressed her face into Weiss’s hair. “If it makes you feel any better, the moment Atlas doesn’t need him anymore, I’ve totally called dibs on organising an ‘accident’ for him.”

Weiss’s jaw dropped. “Please, tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m joking.” Diana paused. “But if you want...”

“Diana!” Weiss cried, scandalised. “I might not like him very much, but I don’t think I want him assassinated.”

“He wouldn’t be assassinated. He would simply meet an unfortunate accidental end that could in no way be traced back to me or you.”

“Even so.”

“Anyway,” Diana said. “Just be glad you’re not dating Claire.”

“Oh?”

“Because as much as I love my cousin, she would totally get you with height jokes too, and she’s even taller than I am.”

Weiss huffed. “I have no idea how she is so tall. It’s actually absurd.”

“Well, her dad is kind of a giant.”

“That might be true, but her mother is hardly a giant.”

“Maybe. But look at her siblings. They’re tall too. It’s clear that those Villiers height genes are mighty. In contrast, look at my Aunt Vanille and my Aunt Lumina’s kids. They’re all pretty tiny.”

“They are not tiny.”

“Are you only saying that because you’re basically the same size.”

“No... maybe.”

“If it’s any consolation,” Diana said. “If we have kids, at least one of them will be tall.”

“Just one?’

“Well, the one that takes after me is going to be pretty much the same size. I mean, I’m basically a copy of my mom when it comes to height and general appearance, so I’m going to guess that whichever of our kids gets Ragnarok will be the same. I don’t know about any others, though.” Diana snickered. “They might just end up tiny too. But that’s okay.” She tightened her hold on Weiss. “I like to think of you as cuddle sized.”

“I’m not sure whether to be pleased or offended by that.”

“You can be both.” Diana smiled. “Also, I’m going to have to tell my family about this soon. I’m fairly confident they probably already know, but they’re just giving us some time to work out how we want to address it.”

“That won’t be too bad, will it? I’m under the impression they like me.”

“They do like you,” Diana said. “Quite a lot, actually.”

“That’s a relief.”

“But they’re still going to challenge you to a fight.”

“...” Weiss’s eye twitched. “Are you serious?”

“Yep.” Diana nodded. “Taren will probably go first out of general principle, and I’m Fury will want to join in too because he’s a jerk like that. Then you’ve got Averia to deal with.”

“...”

“And after Averia, my parents will want to give it a try too."

“I’m going to die,” Weiss muttered. “Your brother is no slouch, and neither is that giant chocobo of his. But your sister and parents? In what universe do I fight them and not die?”

“They won’t actually kill you,” Diana said soothingly. “Maybe just mangle you a little bit.”

“Even a little bit of mangling is too much! I’m not like you. I can’t just regrow an arm if it gets blown off!”

“In fairness, if you’re fighting my sister, it’s more like the arm will get disintegrated or unmade, not blown off.”

“That is not at all reassuring.”

“Relax.” Diana snickered. “We’ll work something out, and they won’t go too far.”

“I should hope not.”

“Anyway, we should get some sleep.”

“You don’t need to sleep.”

“I don’t, but it’s kind of fun.” Diana grinned. “Besides, would you rather I stay awake the whole night and watch you sleep?”

“That would be creepy.”

“Exactly.”

[ariajonesstyle]

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JEANS WITH HIGH WAISTS AND A DRESS: STYLING TIPS

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[theatretrust]

Nordstrom socialite dress

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[the-empress-7]

Hey, it's Wimbledon anon! I have some free time and I saw someone asked about Catherine's height.

She is tall and has long legs, so that maybe makes her appear taller. My best guess is that she is 5'8.5"-5'9.5". She has a very elegant gait but she needs better posture, she hunches a little which is a tell-tale sign of someone who was mocked for their height (my brother is the same, he is almost 6'7"). If I had to compare her to a celebrity, I'd compare her to Jackie O in the sense of the way she carries herself. She seems very poised in person and this might sound strange, but she is insanely feminine. Like the way she is put together reminds me of Jackie or Grace Kelly, she is so put together, not a hair out of place.

William is a giant! I have no idea what Charles and Diana used to feed him but whatever it was, it worked. He is very wide in his upper body and makes Catherine appear smaller. My guess is that he is 6'4". He also creepily looks even more like Diana in person, like the mannerisms and the smile remind me of old footage of her. He appears to be very muscular too.

Next time, promise I will bring a measuring tape and if the RPOs tackle me, it was worth it!

Hi Wimbledon Anon, thanks for settling this debate. I love hearing first hand accounts like these, and then day dreaming about seeing them in person some day.

[birdtown-if]

platonic crossover with @sinnersandsaints-linwrites's character Riven, because competitive and ready to throw hands? Diana has finally found a worthy opponent.

IT WAS FAIR DAY, and Diana's first time partaking in it.

Fairs were usually meant for merchants and commoners— in other words, the part of the Kingdom that wasn't royalty.

By the rules of the kingdom, she should stay inside the castle and ignore the crowd bustling outside. But if even within the castle walls she was treated like a commoner, then she might as well act as such.

Covering her face and hiding her hair with her cloak, she stepped through the gates of the so-called 'fun fair', stopping soon after to glance around at the stands and people.

Diana had never seen so many kids in her life. Having Oliver and later Catherine around, she only ever socialized with her father's friends' children when they came to visit. Those were often four, five at most.

These.. these felt like hundreds. A particularly small kid almost ran her over and she could only stare in amazement, briefly having regressed to her childhood years. Another chased the first, running past her.

The third wasn't so lucky. It bumped against the back of Diana's boots, and this made her turn around because could kids even be that tiny?

She didn't find a child draped over her boots. She found a face. A grown person's face.

Had she been any less stoic — any more like Oliver, she would have screamed. Instead, she silently glared at the figure with burning cold eyes.

It had been merely a scare. There was no need to use violence against this poor peasant.

"Ow-! The fuck you looking at?" She took that back.

Diana bit her tongue for once in her life, and waited patiently for the person to get back on their feet — which they did, after some moments. They had a disheveled appearance, as if they had been involved in a sparring match with a wild donkey and lost.

There was a shout in the direction where they'd come from. "If you even look at my stand again, I'll get you banned!" That's when Diana understood.

"Oh. You may be one of those."

The person looked down at her — they were a few centimeters taller than her, which made her frown. Their amber eyes were glistening with irritation, if not anger. Diana recognized her own expression in their eyes. "One of those? What even— Are you trying to start something, is that it?"

She hurried to correct herself, waving her left hand dismissively as she straightened her back. "No, no. I jest. I meant no harm to your little peasant heart."

She guessed them to be either a carouser or a brawler, and expressed her thoughts to them, but apparently that comment had been offensive, because the person scrunched up their face as if they had just smelled beast manure.

They were angry, Diana could tell by the tense jaw and tick under their eye; according to Catherine's description, that's how Diana herself looked whenever the younger sister spoke. She recalled her emotions then, as those of someone who was about to explode.

Laughter filled the cold ambient, breaking it like a spell. Surprisingly enough, it was coming from her. She offered a confident smile. "My apologies. I did not mean to insult you. Twice." She offered her hand.

There was a raise of brows from the person that just stared in a mixture of confusion and hesitance. They stared at the hand, but didn't shake it. "Of course you didn't." They said. Diana couldn't remember the last time someone had been sarcastic to her, but she recognized the tone immediately.

"Allow me to make it up to you." The person — whose name she'd later know to be Riven, gave a distrustful nod of their head. They were already having a terrible day, so they might as well take up the chance this woman was offering them.

The thing was, if Deadwood had taught them something in the years they'd spent there as a child, was that strangers to town were never meant to be trusted. They were poisonous, like ivy.

"How?" Riven questioned, partly reluctant to deal with her now that they finally had no reason whatsoever to do so. Unless the deal was good, there was no way they'd stay in that shitty fair any longer when they had already technically been kicked out.

Thought that was most definitely not true. They'd stay until they could win that stuffed animal from the balloon & dart stand, otherwise it would all have been a huge waste of time.

Diana caught them broodingly staring at the stand, and raised a brow. "Would fair tickets serve as enough compensation?"

Riven gave a humorless laugh, or at least tried to. Part of them was vaguely amused, but most of them was just offended. "You think you can buy my forgiveness with some cheap tickets?" They asked.

As it turns out, she could.

They both tried their luck at the balloon & the dart, the milk bottle game and the high striker. At the end of the day, it was a tie.

It was getting dark outside, so Diana headed out, with Riven following close behind. They were carrying a gigantic wolf plushie with their chin held high, as if it were the proudest accomplishment of their life. Diana simply smiled to herself, confidence drifting to softness.

"If I may ask, why did that man ban you from his stand?" "Oh, don't even get me started."

Hi, Lin! I'm afraid I might have written Riven as someone too out of character? Just let me know if that's the case. Hope you like it! 💕

[liquid-luck-00]

Father Daughter Bonding

Bio!Dad Bruce

Day 2: Father Daughter Bonding

@biodad-bruce-month

Previous ~~~ Next

~~~~~~~~~~

It had been an interesting few hours. Mari fortunately dealt with her emotions but that meant quite a bit of crying. However, once she calmed down she began to come out of her shell. He knew that that she was smart but talking to her face-to-face was different from all the calls and texts they exchanged over the years.

She was strong and competitive. Diana would probably declare her an Amazon if Mari knew how to fight. Hell with her wit she might even be a match for Hal,Barry, or even Jason. But that wasn't what mattered in this moment.

Well long story short he did not know what he was doing. One second he is being demolished by his daughter at Ultimte Mecha Strike III cheering her up, the next Marinette starts taking out ingredients for a mid morning sweet snack. Marinette gets a notification on her phone, most likely an alarm, as she goes up to her room and he hears the shower start.

Out of curiosity he goes over to the counter and reads the recipe she laid out. It was a recipe for fudgy brownies. This doesn't look to hard, so he picks up the whisk.

Okay this is definitely a first, but really how bad could this be. I am Bruce Wayne, I am Batman, the big bad bat how hard could it possibly be to bake some brownies.

Baking is well, Bruce didn’t know what he was doing. Heck Alfred doesn’t even let him in the kitchen in fear that the Manor will go up in flames. Sorry city of Paris, I haven’t been here long, but you are going up and in flames.

However his determination does not waiver. Brownies I can do that right, coco powder, unsweetened chocolate, boiling water, espresso powder and whisk. Next is the butter, oil, eggs, and why does this need more yolks than the clear stuff. Add vanilla, then sugar and oh no.

---

Mari left to deal with an akuma but before coming back down she showered. And as she descended the stairs she saw it. Her Dad was furiously trying to make the brownies recipe she laid out before leaving. But what she couldn’t believe was the huge white cloud of flour that enveloped the entire room. And she couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. Her father who was dressed in a pristine suit was covered in flour and chocolate.

He looked up and he had a sheepish smile before almost whispering “Mari Help.”

---

She gave him a smile and shook her head. “ Nope. You” she pointed at him “Are almost done”

“But” he knew in that moment he was not going to win this argument.

“All that’s left, if the flour is anything to go by, all you need to do is mix in the chocolate chips and put it on a lined pan”

“Okay” he went to get the cup of chocolate chips that sat on the counter and when he turned back, he saw her grabbing some of the batter on a spoon. He could only give her a disapproving glare.

“What? A good chef tastes their creation at every step” was her only response. He sighed and chuckled at her antics. She was his daughter, he couldn’t even refute that logic. Especially when he used that same excuse on Alfred when he was younger. She wore a smile the whole time they baked and when she set them to rest she took him up to her room.

The next instant she was taking his measurements. In a flurry of movements he watched as she sketched and designed a suit for him. It was simple, elegant even, but there was something more, something that seemed inexpressible on the page.

“Ooh we should go fabric shopping. I have got to make this now.” She was smiling, this was the first time she truly smiled, it wasn’t the small smiles that she wore every other moment. This smile seemed to be bright, maybe bright enough to light Gotham. In that moment he is making it his mission to see that smile as often as possible.

“Sure, lets go”

Fabric shopping was not something that Bruce ever thought he would do. Yet to his surprise it was rather enjoyable. Mari seemed to know which type of fabric she was looking for and then spent time deciding between many bolts.

"Which one?" she held up two bolts of black fabric for him to choose from.

"Uhh... Aren't they the same?" That was the

wrong thing to say, because the look on her face was one of utter horror.

"Non, look this one" she pointed to the bolt on the left "has more satin, meaning it will be sleeker with more of a shine." He looked at it closer and he now saw what she meant. "This one has more cotton it will be more breathable but duller in shine." she finished explaining.

They finished shopping and headed out. Mari was extremely persective and it was only highlighted by what happened next. He didn't see what had caused the reaction but Mari began to run and turned into an alley.

He followed after her and he could not believe what he saw. His little daughter who was no taller than 5' 2" flipped a guy who was three times her size dazing him. Then proceeded to pressure point him to knock him out, zip tie him and pulled out her phone.

"Bruce can you call the police" she instructed while handing him the phone. While she went over and comforted a girl.

It wasn't until they all gave statements to the officers and were heading back to the bakery that he found his voice and asked "How did you do that?"

"Maman taught me self-defense and some pressure points" she shrugged her eyes misting a bit before she blinked away the tears.

"Mari, I know you are about to go on your fall break would you like to go and visit Gotham?" he had to ask, he couldn't leave her, not now, not after she finally began to feel better. She didn't answer until they were back in the apartment above the bakery.

"Okay" she said softly "I want to go" she gave him a smile and he returned it with one of his own. After seeing her take down that thug he knew she could handle herself in Gotham. But most importantly she will be able to handle his boys. This meant he had almost two weeks to deal with funeral plans for Sabine, Tom, and Gina. But most importantly to mentally prepare himself for everyone's reactions.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@mochinek0 @justafanwarrior @abrx2002 @ranger-gothamite @fantasiame @moonystars14 @mochegato @bigbeautifulandfullofsugar @maribat-is-lifeblood @iglowinggemma28 @miraculous-ninja @talutah0 @vixen-uchiha @danielslilangel @witchsblackfox

[angelicsentinel]

the silence in black and white (1/?)

Prompt: Expertise | Emotion: Longing

-

The lights from the vanity washed Saguru out. Stadium after stadium, tour after tour. The bags under his eyes were dark and heavy like bruises. He lost himself, staring at the mirror. How had it come to this? He picked up his eyeliner, tapping it between his fingers against the vanity’s top.

The crackling sound of burning fire. Saguru watched the mirror, empty of everything save his own reflection. But mirrors obscured just as much as they revealed. He was there. Saguru knew, even if the mirror didn’t.

Hands wrapped against his bare, muscled chest. A warm chuckle in his ear as a broad chest pressed against his back. He smelled of the faintest hint of embers. 

“I didn’t summon you,” Saguru said.

“Didn’t you?” the demon asked. He reached out with his long claws and rubbed the area over Saguru’s heart with one rough palm. He then closed his fingers, his hand forming a five pointed star, and jabbed his nails into Saguru’s flesh.

Saguru winced, and a bright blue five pointed star appeared on his skin temporarily before disappearing. “Is it time for the deal to come due?” he asked.

“That would be telling, wouldn’t it, Sa-gu-ru?” he said, singsong.

“You’re needlessly cruel,” Saguru said.

“You’re the one that asked for my expertise,” the demon said, burying his face in his neck and licking his throat with one forked tongue. Saguru shivered and tilted his head to the side. “And my my, how that’s made you millions.”

"I wasn't what we agreed on," Saguru said. "I wanted you to save their lives."

"And the money did, didn't it?" He rubbed his horn against Saguru's face. Spiraled and twisted, shaped like a markhor goat’s, but covered in soft velvet.

From memory, Saguru knew he had eyes the colour of the ocean depths that burned indigo with inner fire. That if he turned to look, he’d have unnaturally pale skin, almost the same colour of ice. Inhuman, one might say, if one were so inclined.

Saguru was so inclined. 

“Didn’t it?” he repeated.

“Yes,” Saguru said hoarsely. “Are you taking your voice back?” If so, Saguru would be glad to be rid of it.

“That’s not how this works,” Kid said, tickling his claws up his neck to cup his throat. “It’s yours to keep.” He laughed. “The way you are mine to keep.”

“And if I refuse to perform?” Saguru asked, snapping the eyeliner pencil in half.

“You will,” Kid said, and nuzzled against his cheek. “My dearest former detective.” He spun the chair around and seated himself in Saguru’s lap sideways, booted legs hanging over the edge of the chair. Saguru was taller, but only by nine centimeters or so. The boots he wore were leather, shin-high and thick-soled and buckled. Motorcycle boots, if Saguru had to guess. Leather trousers, fingerless gloves, a fishnet shirt, and a studded leather jacket finished the ensemble. He patted Saguru’s cheek. “Your boyfriend commands it.”

Saguru couldn’t help the way his lip curled. “Boyfriend?”

“It has come to my attention I need to keep a closer watch on you,” he said, wrapping his arms around his neck.

"You've already taken enough. My privacy, too?" What little he had left of it, anyway. After the paparazzi and the fans.

"I think you'll find that won't be much of a problem anymore," he said. He grinned wickedly, his teeth razor sharp, and snapped his fingers. Fire sparked, bright blue. Saguru felt the heat, watching it warily. He snapped again and the eyeliner pieces levitated and became whole.

Kid shifted so that he was straddling him. Saguru sucked in a breath at the intimate position. He felt the heat through both layers of leather. "I'm not going to give in."

Another laugh. "Do you think you have a choice?" He cupped his cheek, tapping his claws on his temple, next to his eyes. “That’s cute.”

He leaned in for a kiss. Saguru's lips parted against his will; he struggled against the movement, but the binding was whole and complete. He could only feel; his lips were obscenely warm; his tongue carried the taste of flame.

His body reacted against his will. Despite his inhuman looks and his new attitude, his body was still Kuroba's. The demon was exceptionally, exceptionally cruel.

Saguru still managed to pull away. "Enough," he said, his voice rough, both from arousal and from fighting the binding.

"But Saguru, isn't this what you wanted?" Kid said with a pout. 

He shifted in his lap, and Saguru cursed. "Not like this," he said, his voice weighted with want.

Kid traced his lips. “You should hear how he feels about this. I wonder if you’d sing a different tune, then.”

Saguru turned his head, cross at the reminder that he wore Kuroba’s face. “I don’t want to sing at all.”

Kid tapped the glowing blue tattoo over his heart, causing Saguru’s body to lock into place and turn rigid, and wrenched his head back so Saguru was facing him. His eyes gleamed. “Too bad, puppet. You signed up for it. No take backsies. Kiss me,” he commanded, and Saguru had to obey. 

He fought hard as his hands and body shifted of its own accord. No matter how hard he struggled, it was fruitless. 

(Maybe, he thought, it was because he really didn’t want to fight it at all. It was Kuroba’s body and it wore Kuroba’s face, and it said that Kuroba wanted this, but it would say anything to get Saguru to do what it wanted and therefore it couldn’t be trusted)

The kiss was soft, slow. Exploratory. Kid’s lips were soft. Saguru felt himself give in, little by little as Kid shifted to be more flush against his lap. Kid pulled him close, wrapping his arms around his back; his touch was hot. 

Saguru had yearned for this for a long time, and it was all fake. 

But he would take what he could get. Keeping the demon close would keep Kuroba close, and it knew it. It knew how to press all of his buttons and shape him to its will. 

The fire was there long before, and oh, how it burned.

The door to his dressing room burst open. “Mister Hakuba, the band sent me to tell you to start your vocal exercises, you’re on in thirty—Oh, I’m so sorry!” his personal assistant held up her clipboard to cover her eyes.

Not that she’d see anything, since Kid had reverted to human as soon as the door swung out.

“Don’t worry, his voice will get a lot of exercise before then,” Kid said, baring his teeth at her. She took a step back. 

“Kuroba,” Saguru scolded. He looked up at Diana and nodded. “I’ll be ready by then, don’t worry.”

“Alright!” she squeaked, and slammed the door behind her on her way out.

“You didn’t have to scare her,” Saguru said. 

“A little fear is healthy,” Kid said, horns and fangs and claws back. “Let's get you warmed up, so we can play a little more before your performance.” A flame appeared on the tip of his finger and he touched it to Saguru’s throat. Warmth spread up through his throat, and he exhaled slowly.

“You’ll enchant the whole arena tonight,” Kid murmured. “I am not the demon of music for nothing.”

That was all well and good, but Saguru longed to be free.

-

[two]

[fridayfirefly]

Cowboy Like Me

Read Cowboy Like Me on AO3

Masterlist

Written for Maribat March Day 5 - Last Time

Now I know, I'm never gonna love again

Marinette was a terrible sentimentalist. After such a bad breakup it might have been cathartic to tear up the pictures of them, but Marinette just couldn't do it. No, she could bring herself to destroy the evidence of her six-year relationship. Marinette kept all the pictures, all the movie tickets, all the handwritten notes and put them in a shoebox at the top of her closet, somewhere that she couldn't reach without the help of a stepstool. Maybe the pads of her fingers could brush against the smooth cardboard if she stood on her tiptoes. But Marinette could never open it again. Inside that shoebox were the memories of being in love, kept safe, locked away, just out of reach.

As Marinette boarded the plane, she looked back on everything that had gone wrong. Though the cause of all the destruction in her life was uncertain, Marinette could pinpoint the effects exactly. There were a few things Marinette knew for certain: Marinette would never fall in love again, the city Marinette once loved now only held bad memories, and once the plane took off, Marinette would say goodbye to Paris for the last time.

Never wanted love, just a fancy car

The socialite scene of Gotham was dreadfully boring in the winter, Marinette learned. The weather was so brutal that anyone who could afford a second house in Key West or Malibu left as soon as the first snow-fall hit. Marinette stayed inside her penthouse apartment for weeks, designing her wardrobe for the next few months. It had been so long since she had been able to design for herself, without input from anyone else. It was freeing, to work with the colors, the patterns, the styles that she wanted. Marinette had forgotten what freedom felt like. For so long, she had worked for the whims of others, crafting to someone else's design.

Marinette made her first friend two weeks after the move. Silver St. Cloud was Marinette's neighbor in the apartment to the left. Silver was a model and influencer, and a self-proclaimed expert on all of the rich single men in Gotham. Upon their first meeting, Silver offered to show Marinette around Gotham and introduce her to the socialite scene. Marinette, hesitant but hopeful, accepted.

"Bruce Wayne is the best that Gotham has to offer," said Silver as they leave Starbucks, lattes in hand. "But there are plenty of men who are worth your attention - women too, if that's what you prefer."

"Bruce Wayne is the best?"

Silver nodded. "The Waynes have owned this city for as long as Gotham has been on a map. I wouldn't set your sights on him completely, though. Bruce Wayne doesn't date anyone, not even a former member of Kitty Section."

Kitty Section was known around the world, the biggest band to come out of France in the last decade. Their songs topped charts. Their albums won awards. Their well-crafted image of reclusive, mysterious artists led to a media sensation over the members of Kitty Section. Everyone wanted to know them - Luka Couffaine and Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the lead vocalists whose relationship enchanted their fans. Rose Lavillant, the backing vocalist and keyboardist, and Juleka Couffaine, the bass guitarist, who were unashamed of their love for each other. Ivan Bruel, the mysterious drummer who had the name Mylène carved into his drumsticks. They were famous. They were at the top of their game. They were unstoppable.

Marinette ruined it all when she left the band. Her split had been big news, exposing a dark side of Kitty Section that their fans were never supposed to see. But after their breakup, Marinette quickly realized that she never loved music. She loved Luka, and once that love faded away, she loved nothing.

"I guess I'll find someone else," said Marinette, but it was a lie. There was Luka Couffaine, and after that, there was no one else. She might be able to love fancy dresses and expensive cars, but Marinette would never love a person again, not the way she loved Luka. When it came to love (deep, true love, not just the infatuations of childhood) Luka was her first time, Luka was her only time, and Luka would be her last time.

Perched in the dark, telling all the rich folks anything they wanna hear

Marinette quickly learned the art of charming everyone she met, either through her impressive resume (founding member of Kitty Section) or through her newfound ability to flirt. It turns out, once you turn off your feelings it becomes very easy to pretend that you can still love.

Marinette and Silver became thick as thieves. The girls became a popular pair, charming every birthday brunch and charity dinner. For Silver, it was all about networking. As she explained to Marinette, "I'm trying to create a brand. I'm trying to turn my own name into something that can be sold, and for that, I need connections.

For Marinette, it was something to do. As long as she used her money wisely, Marinette had enough saved to comfortably live out the rest of her days. The real problem came in finding something to pass the time. Marinette rarely felt joy in living her life, the way she used to back when she was a child, the bright-eyed girl who aspired to be a designer. Now, everything from charming a billionaire to designing a new dress felt like a chore.

"Come meet Bruce Wayne," urged Silver as she grabbed Marinette's hand. "He just got back from Nepal. It's his first time in Gotham in six months. He skipped his own New Year's Gala to go soul-searching in the Himalayas. It's my job tonight to convince him to stay in town for longer than a week."

There was a determination to Silver's voice. From everything she had heard about Bruce Wayne, Marinette doubted that Silver could make him change his ways. However, that wouldn't stop Marinette from helping her new-found friend.

Silver's whole body-language changed, shifting from a determined march to a delicate float as she made her way over to a dark-haired man in a well-fitted tux. "Hello, Bruce. It's so nice to see you again."

"Silver." Bruce acknowledged her, sounding bored. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She was the lead singer of Kitty Section before the band split up a few months ago."

"Kitty Section... I might have heard of them before. The band was... French?"

Marinette nodded. "Yes. All the members were born and raised in Paris. Have you heard of any of our music?

"I'm certain now that I have. It was very... commercial."

Marinette ought to have slapped him across the face right then and there. Not only was commercial not a compliment, but it also wasn't even true. It was the biggest criticism of Kitty Section, their reticence to work with popular music trends. Despite her overwhelming desire to assault the most wealthy and influential man in the ballroom, Marinette instead steeled her face and gave Bruce a pleasant smile. "Thank you. So what do you do for a living, Mister Wayne."

"I travel."

Marinette resisted the urge to roll her eyes. He spoke two words to her. The conversation was anything but interesting. "How interesting. Have you ever been to Paris?"

"I'm not a tourist, Miss Dupain-Cheng. I travel to much more interesting places."

Marinette officially gave up on the conversation. She would let Silver (who looked to be itching to have her turn to talk to Bruce) try and fix the train-wreck of a conversation that Bruce created. "You sound like a man with a lot of stories to tell. I hope you can tell me them over lunch someday."

"Perhaps."

Marinette gave Bruce her politest smile. "I have to excuse myself. Silver, why don't you tell Bruce about your new sponsorship from Lululemon."

Silver lit up. "Oh, you have to hear about this email I got last week. It was amazing, it's so good for my brand..."

Marinette walked away, letting her distaste towards Bruce leave her. Secretly, a little part of her hoped that Bruce would leave Gotham, as he was well-known for doing. Though Silver was her friend, Marinette didn't think she could pretend to like Bruce.

"He's intolerable, isn't he?" joked a voice from beside Marinette.

Marinette turned to face the stranger, a beautiful woman, taller than Marinette by quite a few inches, with dark hair, dark eyes, and tanned skin. She wore a dress of royal blue silk, so elegant it reminded Marinette of the sort of thing she always dreamed of making. "Who?"

"Bruce Wayne. Who else would it be?"

Marinette let out a quiet laugh. "He is quite unpleasant. I take it you know him."

"I accompanied him on some of his travels. Bruce is a good friend of mine, but these parties tend to bring out the worst in him. He hates this city and he especially hates the wealthy of this city." The woman grabbed a glass of wine off of a server's tray and handed it to Marinette, who gratefully took it.

"Then I doubt Silver will have any luck convincing him to stay." Marinette tried to keep the satisfaction out of her tone, but the woman laughed anyways, an indication that it didn't work.

"You're quite funny..." The woman paused for an introduction.

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng. And you are?"

"Diana-"

The sound of shattering glass interrupted Diana's introduction. The crowd started to get frantic, and Marinette was pushed one way while Diana was pushed the other. The glass of wine was knocked out of Marinette's hand, staining the fabric of her dress. Marinette struggled to stay on her feet, desperate to not twist an ankle in her four-inch heels.

"Listen up!" shouted an oddly-dressed man. "You're all going to listen to me, and no one will get hurt."

Marinette had a very odd feeling that this would be a moment she remembered for the rest of her life.

Never thought I'd meet you here. It could be love

"They're calling him a supervillain. Apparently, his name is The Riddler," reported Marinette, looking up from her phone, where she was reading about the events of the night before.

Silver glanced up from her seat on the sofa across the room where she was painting her nails a delicate shade of pink. "It's about time Gotham got its own supervillain. Metropolis has had Superman and all the villains that follow him around for years."

Marinette snorted out a laugh. "You think that a supervillain is a good thing?"

"Sure. It means that Gotham will be getting a superhero of its own soon." Silver brightened up. "Plus, the hostage situation from last night meant that I got to spend a whole two hours with Bruce."

Marinette groaned. "I can't believe that you two are going on a date. Bruce Wayne is one of the most insufferable men I've ever met."

"It's not a date. Bruce specified it as just dinner between friends. You should come too, Marinette. I'm sure that once you spend some time with Bruce you'll warm up to him."

Marinette gave Silver a skeptical look. "You want me to come with you on your date with Bruce?"

"Again, it's not a date. Bruce said that he would be bringing one of his friends along as well."

Marinette finally understood Silver's intentions. "You want me to come with you so that I can partner up with Bruce's friend, and you can get some alone time with Bruce."

"Well it doesn't sound very nice when you put it that way," huffed Silver.

Marinette giggled. "I love devious plans. We'll just have to make it look natural."

It took a little time to get all the details, but Marinette and Silver got their plan in order. Silver would arrive first and meet Bruce and his friend. Marinette would arrive later, strike up a one-on-one conversation with Bruce's friend, and spend the night engaging Bruce's friend in conversation so that Silver could flirt with Bruce. Marinette's only concern about the evening was that Bruce's friend would be just as unbearable to talk to as Bruce himself.

The restaurant that Bruce picked out was very fancy, but Marinette didn't mind. It allowed her to wear her new dress, a pale blue and silver creation meant to mimic the shimmering quality of ice. Marinette thought it might be a little too experimental for the old-fashioned Gotham society, but Silver approved of it, and Marinette trusted her friend.

As soon as Marinette walked through the doors her eyes caught sight of Silver's white-blonde hair. Then she noticed Bruce sitting beside her friend, his eyes trained on Silver with an odd intensity. Finally, Marinette noticed Bruce's friend. She was shocked to see that it was Diana, the very woman that Marinette had met at yesterday's gala, the very woman whose introduction was interrupted by the untimely arrival of the Riddler. For a second, Marinette was shocked into stillness. The chaos of the night before had overshadowed her meeting with Diana to the extent that Marinette had forgotten how very charmed she had been by Diana. Now, it seemed Marinette had the perfect opportunity to get to know the charismatic woman from the night before.

"Marinette," the surprise in Diana's tone told Marinette that she was just as blind-sighted by their meeting.

"Hello, Diana. Fancy meeting you here," said Marinette with a smile.

Bruce raised one eyebrow. "I didn't know you two knew each other."

"We met last night," explained Diana. "I wanted to let her knew that you aren't usually so insufferable."

Bruce looked affronted. "I wasn't insufferable."

"You lied about having listened to Kitty Section," piped up Marinette. "There are a lot of valid criticisms of Kitty Section. However, our music being too commercial is not one of them."

Bruce had the decency to look guilty. "I apologize, then. I'll make sure to take the time to give your music a real listen."

For Silver's sake, Marinette was willing to forgive him. "Maybe next time you can give me some real criticism."

Bruce nodded graciously. "I'll do that."

Diana took that moment to bring back up their introduction the night before. "So Marinette, I don't believe we got the chance to finish our introductions last night. I'm Diana Prince, newly a curator at Gotham's Art and History Museum."

"I'm Marinette Dupain-Cheng, former member of Kitty Section, currently taking a soul-searching sabbatical."

"Soul-searching for what?" asked Diana.

"I suppose I'm trying to figure out what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. When I was younger I was so passionate about fashion. I made my own clothes, entered my creations into design contests, spent years creating a portfolio. I'm trying to rediscover that passion."

"Maybe you could show me your designs some time," offered Diana.

"I would like that," agreed Marinette.

"Actually," chimed in Silver, "Marinette made the dress she's wearing right now."

"Really? I would have assumed that it was professionally made. It's a gorgeous dress," praised Diana.

Marinette blushed, a warm fluttery feeling stirring deep within her. The rest of the night passed in a blur, with Marinette hanging on Diana's every word. It was easy to talk to Diana. She was so naturally charming that Marinette couldn't help but enjoy herself. As the evening winded down, Marinette felt only regret that they would have to part so soon.

As Marinette stood outside the restaurant, waiting for a taxi, she felt Diana's hand settle on her shoulder. It had been a while since Marinette had felt such an intimate touch. "I had a nice time talking to you tonight." The feel of Diana's fingers gently trailing down Marinette's arms was almost more than Marinette, touch-starved and hungry for more, could bear.

Marinette smiled. "I did too. I hope to see more of you."

"I'm sure you will." Marinette took comfort in the certainty in Diana's voice.

And in the back of her mind, Marinette began to rethink her policy of never falling in love again. Something about Diana made Marinette think that Luka wouldn't be her last time after all.

And the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up

Marinette could not believe he did this. After everything they had been through together, Marinette's one final request to Luka was that he not release a song about their breakup. But there it was, top of the charts, the lead single of Luka's new solo album, Different Cities. And if it wasn't bad enough that Luka broke the only promise she asked him to keep, included in the song was a snippet of the last voicemail she sent to him. She left it for him weeks after they broke up, as an explanation to him, to let him know she was leaving Gotham.

In the last few seconds of the song, Marinette's voice is hesitant as she speaks. "I know that you wanted me to stay so that we could work things out, but I don't think that our relationship is fixable. So I guess I'm calling to tell you that I give up. I'm leaving Paris next Friday. I've already bought the plane ticket. You can't change my mind. Goodbye, Luka."

It was the rawest emotion Marinette had shown since the breakup, and Luka exploited it for his own gain.

Marinette spent the day joylessly deleting emails from various news outlets begging her to tell her side of the story. As if she would give Luka the satisfaction of giving free publicity. Everyone loved drama, so Marinette was going to make her reaction - or lack of reaction, in this case - as boring as possible.

Every time her phone rang, Marinette ignored it. The voicemails started to stack up, and eventually, Marinette found herself going through them one-by-one. One from Alya, letting Marinette know that she was there for her when she wanted to talk. One from Adrien, more joking in tone, trying to cheer Marinette up. One from Ivan, directly threatening to punch Luka in the face if Marinette wanted it (and that was the only voicemail that actually brought her spirits up). One from Juleka, an apology.

In the voicemail, Juleka's voice was rough, like she had been crying. "I'm so sorry, Marinette. I begged Luka not to release it, but he wouldn't listen to me. He said- he- he said-" Juleka broke off into a sob, and Marinette couldn't help but sniffle along with her. "I can hardly recognize him anymore. Rose and I aren't on speaking terms with him now. He's no longer my brother."

Marinette wished that she could pick up the phone and tell Juleka that it was okay to forgive Luka, but Marinette couldn't. The wound was still fresh, still bleeding out.

One step forward, one steps back. Two days after Marinette considered the idea of loving again, and she was right back where she started - in too much pain to even consider friendship, let alone love.

Speak of the devil, Marinette's phone rang, Diana's name lighting up on the screen. Part of her wanted to throw her phone across the room and curl up under her blankets. The other parts of her answered the call. "Hello?" spoke Marinette, wiping away the moisture at the corner of her eyes.

"Marinette, are you okay?" Diana's voice was soft. It was the most comforting thing Marinette had ever heard.

"Not really. I can't decide if I want to punch Luka in the face or if it would hurt too much to ever see him again."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Marinette sighed. "I met Luka when I was fourteen. He was my classmate Juleka's older brother. Luka had his own band, so all the girls in our class thought that Luka was so cool, but he mostly ignored us. Then one day his backing vocalist got bronchitis and he needed someone to fill in. I was a soloist for the school chorus, so I volunteered. Luka was hesitant to let me join his band until he heard me sing. He told me I had the voice of an angel. Two days later he kissed me, and I fell in love with him so hard and so fast I didn't have a chance to consider if he was really the one."

Marinette took a deep breath, then continued, "It was a whirlwind after that. We started dating. We started a new band and named it Kitty Section. We started writing songs together. The weird part was, he never asked how I felt about any of it. He never asked me if I wanted to date him, he never asked if I wanted to join the band, he always assumed that I wanted what he wanted."

"And what did you want?" asked Diana.

"Back then, I thought I wanted a future with Luka. Now, I guess I just want to feel passion again. I've felt so empty since I left him."

"You might feel better with some company. Do you want me to come over to your place?"

Marinette looked around at her empty apartment, at the way the shadows filled the room, at the way seemed to lurk in every corner. "Sure."

"You could show me some of those designs you were telling me about the other day," suggested Diana.

Marinette glanced over at her sketchbook, which had laid empty for months. "That sounds good."

As she hung up the phone, Marinette realized that talking to Diana had made her feel a bit better. The knife wound that Luka had left in her heart had begun to close up at the edges. Marinette took a deep breath and picked up her sketchbook. If she wanted to rediscover her passion, she needed to work for it.

Now you hang from my lips, like the Gardens of Babylon

Marinette let out an appreciative noise as Diana re-entered the room, modeling one of Marinette's creations. "Give me a little spin."

Diana turned herself around, letting the red fabric swirl around her legs. Something about the way that the dress looked on Diana made it so much prettier in Marinette's eyes. Suddenly the fabric wasn't just red, it was carmine. The dress wasn't just being worn, it was being modeled. It didn't just move, it flowed. "It's a gorgeous dress," complimented Diana as she looked over her shoulder at the mirror behind her to admire it.

"It is nice, isn't it." Marinette had been so caught up in her head she had forgotten to truly admire her creation. Suddenly an idea occurred to her. "You should keep it. One of Bruce's charity galas is coming up in a few weeks. You could wear it there."

"I couldn't," protested Diana.

Marinette shook her head. "It looks best on you. I could never pull off such a vibrant shade of red." There was a second part to the sentence that was left unspoken. If Marinette made the dress knowing that it wouldn't look good on her, she must have made it for another reason. She must have made it with Diana in mind.

Diana smiled, seeming to have caught those unspoken words. "Well if I'm going to wear the dress, you'll have to put up with me gushing about how talented you are all night long."

Marinette flushed. "It's no big deal. It's just a dress."

"It's not just a dress. It's your passion." There was truth in Diana's words that Marinette couldn't deny. It was so much more than a dress. It was the passion for design that Diana had helped her rediscover. It was the newfound friendship with Diana that chased away the loneliness and despair that had taken over her life. It was the glimmer of hope for a future with Diana.

Takes one to know one, you're a cowboy like me

Diana looked beyond gorgeous in that carmine dress. Marinette could keep her eyes off of her as they mingled around the ballroom. Marinette's dress was nice, made with the same passion that Marinette had in her younger years, but it paled in comparison to Diana. However, Diana made up for this disparity by gleefully explaining that Marinette was the creator of the dress every time it was complimented. By the end of the night, Marinette had spent so much time blushing over compliments that she worried her face would become permanently flushed.

The gala was a complete success for everyone involved. The charity, which happened to benefit Gotham Child Protective Services, raised twice their goal amount. Marinette got to spend time with Diana. Even Silver had spent the night looking very pleased with herself, her hand resting on Bruce's forearm as they walked through the ballroom together.

As the night winded down, Marinette and Diana found themselves walking out of Wayne Manor towards Diana's car. Diana had offered to drive Marinette there and back, and Marinette had eagerly accepted. Marinette hated driving in Gotham, as Gotham was known for its aggressive drivers and high rates of automobile accidents.

Marinette sat down in the passenger seat with a sigh, kicking off her heels. "Tonight was nice."

"It was nice," Diana agreed. "We'll have to attend galas together more often."

"You just want an excuse to get your hands on another one of my dresses," teased Marinette.

Diana laughed. "I wouldn't say no to another dress. But really, Bruce's rich friends are much more bearable when I have someone to make fun of them afterward with."

Marinette shuddered. "And to think I thought that Bruce was bad. His friends are intolerable. I never want to talk about golf again in my life."

The two women chatted as they drove through the dark streets of Gotham, back to Marinette's apartment.

"Thanks for driving me home," said Marinette as the car pulled up in front of her apartment building.

"It was no problem." Diana hesitated, before continuing. "I was wondering if you would like to go out to dinner with me tomorrow night."

"Dinner sounds good," Marinette replied, strapping her shoes back on.

"I'm asking for this to be a date." Diana finished.

Marinette looked up at her, surprised. Her friendship with Diana had been so easy that Marinette had forgotten that it could be anything else. She had half a mind to decline, to stay in the familiar, but that little bit of hope in her heart urged Marinette to take a leap of faith and accept. "I would like that. What time will you pick me up?"

Diana smiled, her whole face lighting up. "How does six sound?"

Marinette smiled back, her heart feeling lighter than it had in years. "Sounds great. I'll see you tomorrow."

And as Marinette got ready for bed, she realized that all of the sadness that lingered in her heart since the breakup had gone away. All that was left for her to feel was hope for the future.

@maribatmarch-2k21

[mischiefandspirits]

Six Eggs in the Nest

Bruce returns from his trip through time to discover that not only had his kids grown, but so had his family. An old face had reappeared in his absence.

Part of the Six for the Age of One AU

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How are you feeling?”

…

“Come on, Bruce,” Clark sighed. “As subtle as it might be, your heart rate still changes when you wake up.”

Bruce grunted, not opening his eyes.

“Good to know your trip through time didn’t affect your language skills.”

“What did I miss?”

“Nothing of note on the League’s front,” J’onn reported and Bruce finally opened his eyes to see the martian was looking over Bruce’s vitals.

“Just business as usual,” Diana agreed from the doorway.

Bruce turned to Clark, who was sitting in a chair next to Bruce’s hospital bed. “Gotham?”

Clark gave a soft smile and answered the unasked question, “The kids are fine. They’d be here, but I guess Ivy and Freeze got into a fight just as they were about to leave and Penguin tried to use the distraction of the fight to move cargo or something.”

“I checked in with them just before you woke,” Diana said before Bruce could get worked up. “In Oracle’s words, I threw Harley at Ivy and Nightwing, Signal, and Corvid smashed Freeze’s helmet so that fight’s basically won. Batwoman reported that her team had taken down Penguin and were supervising the cargo’s transport to the evidence locker before heading in.”

Bruce nodded, relaxing. “I’d assume Batwoman is Stephanie. Nightwing… Dick?”

“Yeah,” Clark said, looking smug. “And Corvid is Damian. Tim’s going by Ghost Bat now.”

“When you disappeared, they all stepped up to become heroes worthy of your legacy,” Diana said. “You would be proud of how strong they’ve been.”

“I am proud.” He simply wished he’d been there to see them through the transition. “How long was I gone?”

“A year,” J’onn said, apologetically and Bruce nodded.

That was longer than it had been for him, but not by too much. A year though…

He’d missed most of the kids’ final year of high school. He’d missed their graduation. He’d missed helping them sign up for college.

Was Duke enjoying his literature studies? Did Stephanie go through with her plans to start the pre-med track or make good on her jokes about taking a year off? Was Damian able to decide between a business or veterinary medicine major? Had Tim figured out what he wanted to do? Did Dick change his mind about not continuing school?

And little Carrie was still so young. Would she even remember Bruce?

“What’s the cover story for Bruce Wayne’s disappearance? And Batman’s?” Bruce asked, pushing the rest down. “I’ll need to figure out how to spread out my appearances so no one becomes suspicious.”

The three shared a look and Bruce’s eyes narrowed.

“It’s not that simple,” Diana said slowly.

“I’ve been standing in for Bruce Wayne with Timothy’s help,” J’onn said. “It was Duke’s idea. Richard had taken up your mantle, but he wasn’t able to convince those who really knew Batman so I was going to pretend to be you until enough time had passed that we could fake your death without it being connected to the change in Batman. Then Timothy and Damian found evidence that you were alive so we’ve kept up the ruse.���

Bruce nodded. It was a good idea, even if Bruce didn’t exactly feel comfortable knowing the martian had been impersonating him for so long. Something else caught his mind, though. “If Dick is Batman, why is he also going by Nightwing?”

“Dick was Batman for a while, but… someone else is Batman now,” Clark said, uncertainly.

“Who?”

“We don’t know. The children won’t tell us,” Diana said. “They’re as stubborn and secretive as their father.”

“About six months ago Batman just… changed,” Clark explained. “We didn’t notice at first since Richard was still the one showing up for Justice League stuff, then Nightwing appeared in the news. It was pretty obvious Nightwing was Dick. We thought that maybe he was setting up his own hero for when you came back, but Batman was seen working with Nightwing and all the rest of the boys. He’s also more…”

“Vicious?” J’onn offered. “And dramatic, but in a grim way. His fighting style is firmer as well, in a way Dick couldn’t manage no matter how much he held himself back. His Batman is more genuine than Dick’s. To the point that, from what we’ve gathered, those who realized he had replaced you already think you’re back.”

“We tried asking Dick the next time he came up for a meeting, but all he’d say was that he wasn’t ready to see us,” Diana added. “Clark went to Gotham -”

Bruce glared at the kryptonian.

“I know, I know. Your kids caught me within minutes and Stephanie gave me a lecture you’d be proud of. And don’t act like you’re not burning with curiosity. Do you even have an idea who it could be?”

“Did you find out anything?” Bruce redirected and Clark shook his head.

“I couldn’t see much because the cowl is as lead-lined as you always had it and he got out of there fast once Stephanie intercepted me. He was tall and broad like you and what skin I saw was fair, so he couldn’t be any of the boys.”

That… didn’t add up. Who would the boys have trusted with Batman? “I need to get home.”

All three looked like they wanted to argue, but J’onn unhooked him from the monitors.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cave was empty when Bruce teleported in, though the still-warm cup of tea next to the Batcomputer’s keyboard and the lit-up screens showed that Alfred had recently been monitoring the comms before stepping out for a moment.

“- anything yet?” came Robin’s -- Nightwing’s -- voice when Bruce hit the button to unmute the main comm line.

“Wonder Woman said he was still unconscious when she checked in,” Oracle answered.

“Batman, Batwoman, and I will be at the cave in a minute. The two of us can head up immediately and report back,” Ghost Bat offered.

“Speak for yourself,” Batwoman huffed. “You can hang around Wonder Woman smelling like a sewer all you want, but I need a shower.”

“You will wait for us or I will give all your sweatshirts to Goliath as nesting materials, Ghost!” Corvid snapped.

“Nah, Goliath can do better than G’s hoodies. Besides, he’ll just go steal some from Metro. I’m pretty sure half the ones he’s got now are clone boy’s anyways,” laughed a voice Bruce didn’t recognize. Batman’s, he assumed. Something about it nagged at him, but he couldn’t place it. He was sure he knew the person though. Was he altering his voice for the suit like Bruce did? It didn’t have the growl, but maybe he was just making his voice deeper. If his voice was higher…

Bruce was torn out of his musings by a snarl. He turned to see a large groenendael stalking towards him. Behind the dog was a massive pillow with five other dogs atop it. A Great Dane was stretched out regally at one end, wagging his tail but otherwise not paying Bruce any attention. A lab and a pit bull were flopped over each other limply in the middle, fast asleep. A German shepherd was standing on the other end, just as alert as the groenendael without the aggression. A Chihuahua was similarly eyeing Bruce from her spot tucked under the Great Dane’s chin, kept quiet and still only by the larger dog’s presence.

Bruce wasn’t surprised the dogs had invaded the cave in his absence. He could only hope Goliath and Wiggles had continued to be cut off in their separate portions of the cave and Alfred the Cat hadn’t been allowed to torment the bats.

He knelt and held out his hand. “It’s alright, Jane. It’s just me.”

The groenendael quieted at his voice and continued approaching him. The closer she got, the more relaxed she became until she was close enough to cheerfully lick and nuzzle at his hand as an apology for growling.

“It’s okay, girl. You’re doing a good job protecting the cave while everyone’s out.”

Ace was at his side in an instant to sniff him over for injuries and nose his neck in a greeting Bruce easily returned. Titus yawned and turned away as things calmed down, which allowed Ami to leap to her feet. She gave two quick yaps at Bruce, then stomped over to curl up on a corner of the pillow. Haley and Hazel slept on.

A moment later the roar of an engine echoed through the cave, heralding the arrival of the Batmobile. Bruce’s spot was slightly hidden from the vehicle bay, so he had the chance to observe the three that climbed out.

Batwoman’s suit wasn’t too dissimilar to the one Barbara had donned during those two short years she’d held the mantle. All Stephanie had altered was swapping out the red on the bat, belt, cape lining, and wig for her signature eggplant.

Ghost Bat’s suit was black, sleeveless, and made from the same lightweight armor Tim and Dick always used. A grey bat was across the chest, the color matching his gauntlets. He wore a cape and cowl like Batwoman’s, though the cape lining and wig were grey. The wig was also cut short to match Tim’s chin-length locks instead of Stephanie’s chest-length curls.

Batman’s suit, at first glance, looked exactly like Bruce’s. On closer inspection, though, it appeared thinner, closer to the medium bulk armor Damian and Stephanie used. There were also knives hidden across the suit and the cape was shorter than Bruce kept it. His build appeared to be just as Clark described, but Bruce knew the suit enough to tell it was making him look broader in the shoulders and the boots’ soles were altered to make him look shorter. Bruce estimated him to be a few inches taller than himself and around Duke’s width. The visible portion of his face was a pale beige, distinctly different from Dick’s olive tone or the other boys’ darker skin colors.

“- soft and roomy!” Ghost was arguing. “It’s no different than you stealing Bruce’s!”

Batman shot him a perfect Bat-Glare, as the kids called it. “I don’t have any of his sweaters!”

“That’s because after you steal them, Alfred always washes them and puts them back in B’s closet,” Stephanie snorted, pulling down her cowl. She gave him a wink when he turned the glare on her. “Just because you only wear them to bed doesn’t mean we don’t notice. Also, Tim’s stolen horde isn’t just Kon’s. He also got some of mine, Cassie’s, Duke’s, Damian’s, and yours in there. Dick’s and Cissie’s aren’t baggy enough and Bart’s are scratchy. He’s also got one of Kori’s because he took it thinking it was Babs’ and now he’s too embarrassed to give it back.”

“STEPHANIE!” Ghost shouted as Batman snapped, “Is that where my green hoodie went?”

Stephanie snickered as she turned to head deeper into the cave. Her eyes caught Bruce’s and she froze.

“What’s wrong?” Batman asked and he and Ghost followed her gaze.

“Kids,” Bruce said after a moment of trying to figure out what to say.

Batman stiffened and Stephanie smiled. “Hey, B.”

Ghost shot forward, but stopped just before he reached Bruce, looking like he was barely holding back from throwing himself at Bruce.

Bruce took the decision away from him by pulling the boy into a hug. He pulled down the cowl to press a kiss to the top of Tim's head as the boy started to shake slightly with silent tears.

“So B’s here,” Stephanie said and he heard her voice echo through the comm in Tim’s ear.

“What!?”

“He’s supposed to be resting on the Watchtower.”

“Of course they couldn’t keep Father contained.”

“We’re on our way.”

“You’re here,” Tim whispered and Bruce pressed another kiss to his head.

“I am. I’m so sorry for being gone.”

“Tim’s the one who found you,” Stephanie said as she walked up. “Or, well, he’s the one who made it possible for the JL to find you.”

“I heard. I’m so proud.”

“Damian helped,” Tim muttered, burying his reddening face further into Bruce’s chest.

Bruce rubbed his back for a few seconds, then pulled away so Tim could pick up the Chihuahua nudging up against his ankle. He made sure Ami was helping Tim calm down before nodding at Stephanie. However, he soon found his gaze shifting back to the unknown factor.

Batman was still standing where he’d been the last time Bruce checked. He looked frozen in place, only his hand having shifted so that it could rest on Jane’s cheek. The groenendael was staring up at him as she licked and nuzzled at his wrist and hip in an effort to draw him back from wherever he was, though Bruce doubted he could feel it through the suit.

She must have realized it too as a moment later she stood up on her hind legs with her forepaws on Batman’s chest so she could lick at his chin instead, snapping him out of it enough that he looked away.

It was then that Stephanie glanced over her shoulder to see what Bruce was staring at. “Shoot.”

“What?” Tim asked, tucking Ami to his chest. He looked at Stephanie, then Batman, then his eyes shot to Bruce. “Oh. Crud. We really meant to do this slowly.”

“Are you two going to introduce me?” Bruce grunted.

His eyes were still on the stranger, but he could see both eighteen-year-olds open their mouths to respond. Before they could, Batman nudged Jane off and reached up to pull down his hood.

Bruce’s breath caught in his throat.

“Hey, Dad,” Jason said, running his fingers through his black and white hair.

Ace nudged Bruce’s side, just under his ribs.

He took a breath, then another.

“What part of do this slowly didn’t you get, Jay!”

“We all know he wasn’t going to rest until he figured out who I am. I’m just ripping off the band-aid.”

“This isn’t my Earth,” Bruce said.

The three shared a look and Tim pressed into Bruce’s other side. “It is.”

“My Jason is…”

“Dead?” Jason finished. “Yeah, it, uh, didn’t take. Sorry to disappoint.”

“Not the time, Jay!” Steph sighed. “Come on, Old Man. You look awful. We’ll explain once you’re sitting down.”

Bruce’s hands itched to grab Jason. To grab him and pull him close and never let him go again.

He kept his hands to himself as he followed the kids to the meeting table. They had just enough time to get settled when the elevator dinged and Alfred stepped out with a fussing Carrie in his arms.

The butler took in the group, then gave Bruce a pointed look. “You are meant to be resting.”

“I had to check on the kids.”

“Of course you did.” Alfred came forward to deposit Carrie into the arms of her honorary grandfather then set a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “It’s good to have you back, Master Bruce. We’ve all missed you.”

Bruce nodded and looked down at the toddler.

She blinked up at him before smiling and poking his cheek. “Boosie back!”

“Yeah, Sweetheart, I’m back,” he said, voice hoarse.

Three motorcycles shot into the cave, the boys on them quickly jumping off. Bruce set Carrie on his knee as he took in his rapidly approaching sons.

Nightwing’s suit was similar to Ghost Bat’s, though his had sleeves and he had just a domino in place of the cape and cowl. The suit was black with a cobalt V across the chest that resembled a bird. The wings stretched all the way to the shoulders then ran down the sleeves to end at the tips of his middle and ring fingers. The blue color carried over to his domino mask and the trim of his boots. A pair of escrima sticks poked out from behind him and black pouches were connected to the waist of the suit like a built-in utility belt.

Corvid’s suit was black with a matching utility belt and carried the same moderate bulk Damian preferred. A long, hooded jacket sat over the suit, sleeveless and colored sapphire with white trim. It sat open, revealing the white outline of a bird stretched across his chest. The suit was finished off with a black domino mask with equally black lenses and tall emerald boots.

Signal’s suit looked the same as it had when Bruce was sent away, and Bruce took comfort in the fact that not everything had changed.

Stephanie ducked down for a quick hug, then removed her daughter from Bruce’s lap so she wasn’t crushed when Nightwing threw himself into it a second later.

“You’re so stupid for running off from the Watchtower, but I’m glad you’re back.”

“I’m fine,” Bruce said, holding the boy close with one arm as he reached out to grab his youngest’s hand.

Corvid squeezed back as he glanced over Bruce, then let go and left to take a seat.

After giving Bruce a quick hug around Nightwing, Signal went to grab his own seat as well. He pulled off his helmet and looked pointedly at Jason before turning back to Bruce. “Guess it’s storytime, huh?”

“You couldn’t even keep it a secret for five minutes?” Damian tisked after he’d removed his mask.

“He was ripping off the band-aid,” Tim mocked.

“We all know how obsessive B gets when someone puts a mystery in front of him,” Jason huffed, throwing his hands in the air.

“It is something you’ve all inherited from him,” Alfred hummed as he began to set cups of tea in front of everyone except Carrie, who got a sippy cup of warm milk.

Dick squirmed around so he could remove his mask and accept his cup of tea, then made himself comfortable in his father’s lap.

“You’re getting too old for this,” Bruce teased, wrapping his arms around the eighteen-year-old, and Dick shushed him.

“Where should we start?” Stephanie asked.

[chloelucia13]

Chapter 1: A Sweet Rain

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female!reader

Prompt: Your best friend is getting married, but it seems that you’re the one  who got lucky. 

Warnings: mostly fluff, language, a little angst, it’s pretty chill

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: So this is going to be the first part of a multi-part series! Enjoy this fluff, because this'll probably be all you’re gonna get out of this series! Anyways, buckle up and I hope you all enjoy! As always, my tag lists and requests are open!

Songs mentioned: “First Day of my Life” by Bright Eyes, “Samson” by Regina Spektor

Tags: @sojournmichael​

“Hey Pen, what’s up?” you hummed into your phone, fishing for your keys in your purse.

“Okay, I have big news,” she squealed, and you nearly had to pull the phone from your ear due to the pitch. “Like, really big news. News so big you couldn’t even imagine-”

“Out with it, Penny!” You chuckled before finally finding your keys, unlocking your car door.

“Okay, okay... JJ and Will are getting married!”

“Oh my god!” Your pitch now replicated hers, and your hands started to shake as you sat down in the driver’s seat of your car. “I have to call and congratulate them!”

“NO!”

You jumped at her sudden shout, furrowing your brow in confusion. “Why not?”

“So the thing is... We’re kinda throwing a surprise wedding for them at Rossi’s.”

“What?”

“Okay, so...”

She rattled off the details of exactly what was happening, about how Will was in a near-death situation and how he proposed to her in his hospital room, and how Rossi overheard their plans to just go to the courthouse and decided that he wanted them to have a proper ceremony.

“So, are you coming?” she basically begged after taking a deep breath, winded after her rushed summation of the events that had taken place.

“Of course I’m coming! I’ll help you guys get ready and everything! Just tell me when and where!”

“Okay, so it’s gonna be at Rossi’s mansion tomorrow-”

“Wait, tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” she dragged out. “Sorry it’s short notice. It’s kinda short notice for everyone.”

You let out a silent sigh, licking your lips. “You’re all lucky that it’s my day off.”

***

You were clad in a pair of jeans and a tee shirt when you pulled up to the towering mansion that you were only slightly envious of. With your dress and makeup bag in the back of your car, you locked your doors before following the stone trail that led to the front door of Rossi’s house.

You barely knocked once when the door swung open, revealing an excited and frazzled Penelope. “Thank god, you’re here,” she sighed, grabbing your arm and yanking you into the door.

“What’s wrong, Pen?” you questioned, trying to keep up with her fast pace that was honestly alarming considering the 5-inch stilettos she was donning.

“Everything! The only other girl here is Emily and she does not have a clue on how to color coordinate! And the caterers said the food might not be ready in time and JJ’s mom might be late and-” 

“Penelope, take a deep breath! Everything’s gonna be just fine. Let’s see what you have so far.”

She nodded, taking a few deep breaths before guiding you over to the pair of French doors that led out to the backyard.

So far, all of the chairs had been set out for the ceremony and the wedding arch and already been placed, but sat bare. Table for the reception were out, but they were lacking decorations as well. The only thing that seemed fully completed was the dance floor, which had a mat of hardwood laid out on the grass with a sound system at the head of it.

“Okay, you’ve all got a good head start. It’s only noon, and they’re not supposed to be here until 6. We still have time,” you consoled, giving her a comforting smile. 

“Ah, is this the girl we’ve been waiting for?” a voice questioned behind you, and you and Penelope turned around to see three men walking in your direction. 

“It is!” Penelope replied, beaming and placing a hand on your shoulder. “Boys, this is Dr. Y/N Y/L/N, the head psychologist at St. Elizabeth Hospital in DC.” Penelope then shifted over to the boys’ side, standing next to the man you knew as David Rossi. “You already know this guy.”

“Of course, how could I ever forget,” you hummed, reaching out to shake his hand.

She then stepped next to a taller man with dark skin and strong eyebrows. “This here is Derek Morgan.”

You shook his hand. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard quite a lot about you.”

She finally stood by the last, and the tallest, man in the group. “And this is Dr. Spencer Reid.”

You smiled at him, and he did the same in return. “I remember her saying you don’t do handshakes. It’s nice to meet you.”

“So now we’ve got two doctors to deal with?” Rossi playfully sighed, patting your shoulder.

“Seems like it,” you hummed, grinning at Spencer before turning to Rossi. “Though I doubt I’m half as intelligent as Dr. Reid right here. I’ve heard rumors of an IQ of 187?”

Spencer shrugged, a blush flooding his face. “I-I uh, I mean... Yes.”

“And that IQ immediately decreases threefold whenever he sees a pretty girl,” a voice behind you teased, and you turned to see Emily walking over to the group, a bright smile on her face.

“Is that so.” You beamed back at her, slinging an arm around her shoulder and pulling her into a hug. 

“Alright chatter-bugs, we’ve got a wedding to set up!” Penelope announced. “Hotch is gonna be here late, so we’re down a person for a while.” She grabbed your arm and began tugging you off. “I need you to help with flower stuff.”

You rolled your eyes and waved goodbye to the group before letting her tug you inside. Once you two were in one of the many living rooms, she turned to you with a big grin on her face. “What?”

“So?”

You furrowed your brows in confusion, shaking your head slightly. “So what?”

She huffed, rolling her eyes as if it was obvious. “So, what do you think of the doctor?!” 

“Oh my god,” you grumbled, running a hand through your hair. “Penelope, I am not gonna date your coworker, no matter how cute he is.”

“So you think he’s cute!”

“Penelope!” You let out a breath. “Pen, you know I’m not good with relationships, especially with my job, I barely have time to do anything.”

“Neither does he! It’ll be perfect!” She pushed out her lower lip, clasping her hands together in a praying gesture. “Please, at least think about it!”

Another sigh left your lips. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

She squealed. “Yay!”

“But that doesn’t mean I’m for sure gonna date him!”

She smiled knowingly, nodding once. “Whatever you say.”

***

You were lucky that the florist you contacted had the flowers you needed in supply, and even luckier that they were able to have them all ready within the hour.

You were busy attempting to arrange the flowers and fake vines on the arch when you felt a presence to your right, watching from your peripheral as they gathered a handful of baby’s breath and began sticking them in the spots you needed filled.

“Thanks,” you hummed. “I was about to grab a step ladder for that, but you seem to have that under control.”

“It’s a gift and a curse,” Spencer joked, giving you a shy smile before turning back to his task.

You chuckled before grabbing a roll of sheer ribbon and holding it out to him. “Mind using your gift to tie that ribbon at the top of the arch? I can’t reach.”

He nodded, gingerly taking the ribbon from your hands and extending a length out to tie it to the top of the arch. You then took the roll from his hands and created a draping effect before snipping the length off from the roll and tying it to the side of the arch. 

As you moved to the right side of the arch to mirror the draping that you had just done, Spencer’s eyes followed your movements, his breath caught in his lungs and his lower lip caught between his teeth. 

“Spencer?”

“Hm?” he voiced, snapping out of his trance.

You smirked, handing him the roll. He grinned shyly back at you before mirroring the work he did on the other side. “I asked you where you’re from,” you explained as you took the roll back from him.

“Oh, uh, I’m from Las Vegas,” he rushed out, already feeling a burning in his cheeks.

“Really? What a coincidence. I’m from Reno, but I worked in Vegas while I was getting my masters.”

“Where’d you work?”

“The mental hospital there.” You shook your head, letting out a sigh. “God I worked there for like a year but I can’t remember the name for the life of me. Harrington, something like that-”

“Bennington?”

“Yes, that’s the one!” You turned to give him a smile, only to see a haunted look on his face. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head, pursing his lips and casting his gaze to the ground. “I-it’s nothing.”

“Spencer.” You took a step forward before tentatively reaching your arm out, weighing the possibilities for a moment before placing your hand on his shoulder. “I know I’m not a profiler, but I can still read people. And I also know that we aren’t close, but you should know that you can trust me.”

He nodded, puffing a breath out through his nose. “I... Someone close to me is... Is one of the residents there.”

Your mind pondered for a moment, dots connecting right in front of your eyes. “Diana Reid.”

He tensed at the name, unconsciously giving himself away.

“She was one of my favorites.” You watched as his eyes lifted from the ground and flickered over your face, trying to decide if you were being honest. “God, she was so intelligent and kind and hilarious as all hell.”

He let out a small chuckle, relaxing slightly. “Yeah?”

“Oh absolutely. She’d crack me up all the time, my sides would hurt from laughing by the time my shift ended. And when she wasn't making me laugh, she’d tell me about her favorite author, read me some of her favorite passages.” A smile imprinted on your face. “Or she would read me letters that she got. Everyday she had a new letter, and her face would light right up when I handed it to her.”

Tears began to well in his eyes, and you moved your hand down to his bicep, locking gazes with him.

“She talked about you everyday. About her genius FBI agent of a son. She was so proud. And I could tell that you cared about her so much. Enough to get her the help she needed. Enough to risk your relationship with her to keep her safe.”

Spencer blinked back his tears and reached up to grab your hand, and for a moment you worried that you had crossed a line.

But that worry immediately faded away when he held your hand, squeezing it gently before giving you a kind smile. “Thank you,” he whispered.

You just nodded, letting the moment linger for as long as possible.

“Hey guys, how’s the arch coming alo-” Penelope began as she walked over to you two, her face buried in her tablet. She froze the moment she looked up, seeing the strange and vulnerable scene in front of her.

“Yeah, yeah, It’s good. I’m uh, I’m gonna go get some water,” Spencer rushed out, giving you both tight lipped smiled before hurrying off.

Penelope gave you a look as she stepped over to you. “What was that?”

“I know his mom,” you stated incredulously, the shock still lingering in your system. 

“Wait, what?”

“She, she was one of the residents at the mental hospital I used to work at.”

“So you guys are like on a third date basis with info about each other?”

“Penelope!” You sighed, rubbing your eyes. “I think that was the deepest conversation I’ve ever had with a stranger.”

“And I bet he can go a lot deeper-”

Your face grew a bright red and you smacked her shoulder. “Stop it!”

***

Your feet were aching by the time you had finished decorating the backyard, immediately falling into a chair with a heavy sigh the moment you placed the last centerpiece on the tables. 

“Y/N I think you may be an actual saint,” Penelope breathed out. “Thank you so much for helping. I don’t think I could’ve gotten this done by myself.”

“I’m always down to help,” you replied, giving her a tired smile. “I should probably start getting ready though. The party’s gonna start soon.”

“I’ll come with you. My stuff is all in my car. We can use one of Rossi’s many bathrooms.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

The two of you gathered your makeup and clothes for tonight before heading into the first bathroom to the right on the second floor of the mansion. That room immediately filled with giggles as you two got ready, helping each other with hair and makeup.

It was almost time for the party to start when you two were ready, zipping your dresses up and slipping on your heels when there was a knock at the door.

“Are you two gonna give us a reveal anytime soon or do we have to beg for it?” Derek’s voice sounded from the other side of the door, his grin evident in his words.

“We?” Penelope questioned, smirking herself.

“Well you know there’s gotta be an audience whenever there’s two beautiful women. Now are we gonna get a show?”

You rolled your eyes, letting out a chuckle as Penelope stepped over to the door. “You ready?” she questioned.

You shrugged. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” you sighed in response before gesturing for her to open the door.

She pulled the door open a moment later, stepping out first and you stepping out behind her.

Emily let out a low whistle, motioning for you two to turn. You scoffed but obliged, waddling around in a circle before giving everyone a sheepish smile. Emily and Derek bombarded the two of you with compliments, boosting your confidence through the roof and making your cheeks burn bright.

Eventually, Emily and Derek and Penelope split off into their own group, chatting amongst themselves. That was when you noticed a timid body tucked away to the side, someone who had been there the whole time but had stayed silent.

“Hey,” you greeted, smiling up at him.

“Hi,” Spencer hummed in return, a shy smile on his own face.

From behind you, you could hear the group change their conversation from whatever mundane topic they were on previously to the topic of you and Spencer. The words seemed to blend together but you could pick up a few things. 

“What did I say, that IQ is gone,” Emily joked.

“Pretty boy’s got a pretty girl now,” Derek added, all of them giggling.

“You um... You look beautiful,” Spencer told you, blatantly ignoring the group’s playful comments.

“Thanks. You clean up well yourself,” you said, reaching up and straightening his bow tie for him. “I dig the bow tie.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. It’s very Eleven-esque.”

He smirked at that. “You watch Doctor Who?”

You shrugged. “Yeah, whenever I get the time. I’m not as big of a fanatic as Miss Penelope Garcia, but I certainly enjoy it.”

“Maybe we can watch the new season together sometime?”

You nodded, beaming. “It’s a date.”

You were so wrapped up in your conversation with Spencer that you failed to notice the peanut gallery wander off, evidently bored by the change of conversation. 

However, you didn’t fail to notice the blush deepening on Spencer’s cheeks from your words, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, a nervous habit that (you hated to admit) had an effect on you.

“We- uh, we should probably head outside. I bet the party is starting soon,” he stuttered out, rocking back and forth on his heels. 

You nodded with a frown, glancing over at the bathroom. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. I’m gonna clean up the bathroom and throw my stuff in my car, then I’ll meet you out there.”

A strange emotion, almost reminiscent of disappointment, crossed over his face for a moment before he nodded. “Alright. See you out there.” He gave you a small smile before stepping past you, leaving a lingering touch on your bare shoulder before retreating downstairs.

***

Luckily, the wedding ceremony had gone off without a hitch, every moment was perfect and extremely emotional.

Tears stains still lingered on your cheeks when dinner was over, and JJ handed you a tissue when she stepped over to you. “I’ve got a whole supply of them, my mom gave ‘em to me when I was breaking down up there,” she whispered to you, pulling you into a tight hug.

“Thanks, JJ,” you breathed, hugging her back just as tight. “I’m so happy for you two.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty happy too.” The two of you giggled, and she pulled away from the hug to give you a smile before looking around. “And I’ve noticed that a special someone is pretty happy to see you, too.”

You followed her line of sight, playfully rolling your eyes when you saw Spencer playing with Henry. “God, who put you up to this?” 

She scoffed, turning back to you. “Hey, I may not be a profiler, but I know a connection when I see one.” She reached out, taking your hand in his. “You should really give him a chance. You two would be amazing together, and you both deserve some happiness in your lives.”

A sigh left your lips, but you nodded. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

JJ squeezed your hand before rising to her feet and looking around for Will. “Well, we should probably do the first dance before Penelope loses her mind.”

You grinned at her. “Have fun, girly. Love you.”

“Love you too. And thank you for all this. It means so much to me.”

“Of course. Anything for you. Now go dance!” You shooed her off with a laugh, watching as everyone turned their attention to the bride and groom making their way over to the dance floor.

The music started playing, and everything moved in slow motion as JJ and Will danced together, both of them beaming with pure love in their eyes. People eventually moved to join them, everyone swaying together on the dance floor.

You had sat at the table for a while, watching everyone make idle chat and have fun on the dance floor. This feeling of warmth and comfort was one that was foreign to you, and you wanted to bask in it for as long as possible. 

“All alone?”

You looked up to see Spencer standing in front of you, a shy smile on his lips. 

You nodded, returning his smile. “I guess so. Dancing really isn’t my thing.”

He pulled a chair up next to you, sitting down and watching the crowd with you. “Yeah, me either.”

“Really? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I do believe I saw you dancing with Emily. And Penelope. And JJ. And JJ’s mom.” He scoffed, and you let out a laugh, playfully shoving his shoulder. “Maybe you’re just a ladies man.”

“Oh, definitely.”

“I mean that sounds like some player behavior if you ask me.”

You both shared a laugh, wide smiles stretching across both of your lips. That laughter soon faded into a comfortable silence, the two of you returning your gazes back to the dance floor.

“I mean, there’s one girl I haven’t danced with,” Spencer spoke up, bringing your attention back to him.

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “Oh yeah? And who would that be?”

Your eyes followed his form as he stood from his seat and walked around you, stopping when he stood right in front of you. “I believe that would be you.” He extended his hand out to you.

A small chuckle left your lips, gently placing your hand in his and pushing yourself to your feet. “You’re getting confident, doctor.”

At your words, his demeanor began to slip, a light blush blooming across his cheeks, glowing under the string lights. “Oh-I-”

“Spencer.” You squeezed his hand. “It’s okay. I’m glad you feel comfortable enough around me to be forward.”

He let out the breath he was holding, squeezing your hand in return before leading you over to the dance floor. You couldn’t help but notice the subtle glance Spencer shared with the DJ once you two stood on the hardwood mat.

The song changed, now playing a slow song you were all-too familiar with. “I didn’t peg you as a guy who listened to Bright Eyes.”

He shrugged. “I’m not. But I had Penelope look into your purchases to see what CDs you’ve bought.”

You feigned offense, gasping and shoving his shoulder. “You two were conspiring!”

He let out a laugh, beaming at you as he placed one hand on your waist. “Well we better get to dancing before this song is over. It’s only 3 minutes and 9 seconds long.”

You rolled your eyes but obliged, placing your free hand on his shoulder and stepped close to him, squeezing his hand once before you two began to sway, eyes locked in each other’s gaze.

“I’m, uh...” You sighed, pursing your lips. “I’m really sorry about bringing all that stuff up with your mom,” you whispered.

“It’s okay,” he whispered in response.

You furrowed your brow in frustration. “But I made you upset, I didn’t mean to do that. I’m really sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. You didn’t upset me.” He let out a breath. “Honestly, it’s really nice being able to talk to someone who knew who she is. Who she really is. Not her illness, her.”

You nodded, searching his eyes. “I’m glad that you trust that I know who she really is.”

“I don’t need to trust you. You told me exactly who she is. She’s a kind, intelligent woman.”

A smile settled on your face. “With a kind and intelligent son.”

He returned your smile, his hand winding around your waist and pulling you against his chest as the song changed. 

You chuckled, searching his eyes. “God, did you guys just decide to play all the music I like.”

He paused to listen to the song. “No, I don’t recognize this song. Maybe Penelope chose it.”

“Of course she did.”

You listened to the lyrics, humming along to the melody as your eyes traced over his features.

Your hair was long when we first met. Of course.

Slowly, as the two of you swayed, you laid your head on his chest, letting your eyes flutter shut.

Peace.

[plethora-of-imagines]

Gingerbread Missy

AN: The first of what I hope is many Christmas fics from me. I have a bunch more planned- if they ever cooperate and get written! Thanks to the MG server @isis-astarte-diana made for this idea.

Word Count: 1148

Warnings: suggestive

Description: Sleepy cuddles with Missy in a onesie.

Tag List: @c-s-stars @queerconfusionthings @how-masterful @truthbehindthemysteries

You brought your legs up by your side, folding them underneath you as you repositioned yourself on the couch. Grabbing a decorative pillow to clutch as you waited for Missy to be done stoking the fire. The deer onesie you wore was soft and cozy against your bare skin. A content sleepy silence filling the room, well at least sleepy on your end. You doubted that Missy was tired. She never seemed to be tired.

Convincing Missy to wear a onesie had taken a lot of effort but it was worth the pleading and begging on your knees. Your heart was swelling with soft, fuzzy feelings. The night of cuddling you had to look forward to once she had finished with the fire keeping you from falling asleep. You were determined to stay awake until you had the chance to clutch Missy in your arms.

The gingerbread onesie she wore looked far better on her than it had any rights to look. It was loose and baggy. Almost as if she had thought she was taller than she really was when she bought it, or more likely stole it. Now that you were thinking about it, it was incredibly likely that she really did think she was taller than she really was. She was always wearing heels. You imagined having different bodies over the years would do that to a person’s mental image of themselves. She likely still surprised herself by looking like a woman even though she had tried to embrace the transition with dresses, makeup, and a new title. Either way, baggy onesie and all, she looked delicious. 

You were so distracted by your sleepy thoughts rambling away inside of your head that you almost didn’t notice when she began to leave the fireplace to join you. You looked up at her, ignoring the newly stoked fire completely in favor of her eyes. They were lit up in mirthful joy at your sleepy state.

“About to fall asleep, little fawn?”

“Mhm,” you made grabby hands at her to try and coaks her closer to you again.

You wanted to enjoy some cuddles before you lost your fight against sleeping.

Missy joined you on the couch, yanking you from your curled up position into her arms. You fell into her shoulder. Almost not bothering to reposition yourself until she was guiding your limbs into a different, more comfortable, position.

You laughed, she always needed to be in control. You nuzzled in close, the soft fuzz of the onesie reminding you of the soft blankets she often cocooned you in when it was cold on the TARDIS. Always tucking you in with a teasing barb about how fragile you were and how she would smother you to death if you caught a cold from the TARDIS’ environment.

Arms wrapping slowly around her waist. Pleased exhales of breath conveying your content state, you were too tired to vocalize at this exact moment. Humming would be too much effort. Instead- for the moment- you let your body speak for you. Melting into a human puddle of happiness and affection.

Being tired always made your mental filter melt away. It often got you in trouble with Missy for ‘being naughty’. What you wanted to do more than anything- right now- was nibble on Missy. In a fully awake and aware state of mind you would recognize this as a terrible idea. But you were sleepy and giddy. So the idea seemed enticing with any consequences slipping away from the forefront of your mind.

Without a second thought, you bit down harshly on Missy's shoulder.

"Did you just bite me,” her tone was dark and dangerous. Your sleepy mind too tired to truly register the full extent of the position you had placed yourself in. “Before you try to answer that was rhetorical, you very naughty girl."

"You're a gingerbread Missy, which makes you a yummy snack,” you tried to justify yourself.

"You're so tired you've gone insane, haven't you. Surprisingly, it's almost adorable. I suggest that you resist the urge to keep nibbling on me or I will be very cross with you."

Pulling away from Missy you released her from your embrace. Choosing instead to start fiddling with the buttons to the onesie that looked like gumdrops.

"Okay, Missy. Imma steal your gumdrop buttons instead now."

You looked up at her with sleepy mischief in your eyes.

“An awful lot of begging to get me into this fuzzy monstrosity just to want it off of me.” 

Missy was laughing at your actions, at your sleepy determination to get your hands underneath her onesie. You had successfully been cute enough to avoid the consequences. You whined as she laughed at you. She knew that you didn’t really want the onesie to come off. You just wanted to,  somewhat join her in her onesie to be closer to her. You could never be close enough to her when you were sleepy and needed affection.

“Are you going to properly eat little ol’ gingerbread me?” Her tone was so suggestive, you could practically hear her eyebrows wiggling.

"I'm too tired to do a good job. Tomorrow I promise."

"Well I suppose I can't have you falling asleep and leaving me frustratingly horny."

Your hands slid into her onesie. Wrapping around her waist before continuing further down. Gripping her ass and giving a nice, cheeky squeeze. Pressing a kiss in between her breasts before leaning against one as a pillow. Listening to her hearts beat. Your upper body practically inside the onesie with Missy. Her gingerbread flesh your blanket.

"You might as well climb inside the onesie with me and ride my strap with how deep into me you're trying to burrow."

"You don't have a strap on right now Missy."

Holding you tighter to herself Missy responded. You could hear the vibrations her words made as she spoke. Lulling you to sleep like a lullaby.

"Well, I certainly wish I had one! You are all sleepy and touch-starved. Seeking any affection I'd bestow upon you. You'd be so cute in the morning all sore from a night of being filled up, nice, and full by me. Alas, we'll both have to settle for some nice and cozy cuddles."

Missy looked fondly down at you, affectionately rolling her eyes. Your breathing was even, eyes closed, and grip slightly loosened. Of course, you would fall asleep when she was making sexual overtures. She would just have to settle for holding you to your sleepy promise of oral tomorrow. Perhaps she would repeat herself if it seemed likely to fluster you. She missed seeing your rosy cheeks when you were tired like this and nothing embarrassed you.

Resting her chin on top of your head Missy closed her own eyes. A few hours of sleep, while she felt content with you in her lap, wouldn't hurt.

[razieltwelve]

Warning (Final Rose)

Fang was not someone who took offence easily. Perhaps that was why some members of her clan had decided to voice their objections to her choice of spouse. True, she was the bearer of Ragnarok, a legendary Semblance that was considered something close to divine by her clansmen. Many had believed she would marry within the clan, thereby ensuring that any future bearers were pure-blooded Yun.

Before proposing to Lightning, she had spoken to her chieftain about it. If he had objected, she would have simply proposed anyway, but he was a good man and a fine leader. She wanted to at least let him know that there might well be trouble on the horizon for him. After all, anyone who was dissatisfied by her choice would undoubtedly go to him.

“Marry who you wish,” the chieftain had said to her with a shrug. “You are Yun, so your children will be Yun.” His lips twitched. “After all, was the Mother of the Yun a Yun by birth? No. She became Yun when she married our great ancestor, the Father of the Yun. Besides, do you mean to abandon your heritage and your people? Will you raise your children without ever teaching them the ways of your ancestors? Will they never climb our mountains or run through our forests?”

Of course, she had told him that she had intention of doing that. Her children would be raised to know who their ancestors were, and they would learn the ways of the Yun as Fang had. And though they might not live in Oerba, they would visit. They would see for themselves the soaring peaks of the mountains. They would know the feel of the forest’s grass beneath their feet and the icy rush of the wind atop the mountains. They would see the towering walls of Oerba and walk its bustling markets. They would speak the language of the Yun and take the Trials when it was time. They would be Yun.

“Then I have no complaints.” The chieftain smiled briefly before his expression turned serious. “But there are others who may not be so accepting. Do what you must, Fang. You know our ways. There are some who will not learn until they are taught.”

And so it was that Fang found herself invoking one of the oldest laws of the Yun after one insult too many. The Circle of Honour, a fight to the death to settle matters of honour. It could not be called upon lightly, for the Yun did not slay their own without reason. But although most insults could be forgiven, to intrude on a marriage celebration and insult one of the celebrants to their face was not one of them. Worse, the insults had been amongst the worst a Yun could offer although from her expression Lightning did not quite understand the nuance. She wasn’t happy about what had been said, but she didn’t grasp exactly why the Yun and Dia in the room had gone still and quiet. And given how rowdy most wedding celebrations were, that was no small thing.

So Fang had gotten to her feet and issued the challenge. Her opponent could now either crawl out of the marriage hall on her belly, offering the most humble and sincere of apologies, or she could meet Fang in combat. Fang was coldly pleased that she decided to give combat instead.

X     X     X

Fang glanced briefly at the circle of Yun that had formed around her and her opponent. They were standing silent sentry, shields locked, spears at the ready. By ancient law, whoever tried to flee the challenge was to be cut down, for cowardice would not be tolerated in matters such as these. A few of the Dia stood nearby taking notes. The Circle of Honour was rarely invoked nowadays, and there were few living who could remember the last time it had been used. As hotheaded as some Yun could be, it was rare for matters to get so far out of hand.

Usually, the chieftain or the veterans would step in to settle disputes, but her opponent had ignored their wise counsel. The chieftain took a moment to explain the rules and the reason for the Circle before giving the signal to begin.

The first thing Fang did was toss aside her shield and spear.

“What are you doing?” her opponent hissed. Amadan was a tall woman, taller even than Fang, though only by half a head or so. She was a fine warrior in her own right, and Fang was glad that she had no children. It would be a shame to make orphans of them. At least, she had a younger brother, one as gifted as she was in the arts of war, so her bloodline’s talent would not be lost to the Yun. That brother was part of the crowd watching, and his face could have been carved of granite, his expression was so stony.

“I need no spear or shield to kill you.”

“You mean to use your Semblance?” Amadan skipped forward, swift and deadly. Her spear flashed out twice, each thrust aimed at a critical point. Fang swayed away from the blows and then ducked, circling around Amadan as the other woman swiped at her with her shield.

“My Semblance?” Fang laughed, and the sound was cold and ugly. “Rangarok is a treasure of our people, the greatest weapon we possess. You are not worthy of death at its hands.”

“Then how will you kill me?” Amadan growled. She lunged forward, her form perfect as she struck three more times. Yet three more times, Fang dodged, reading the path of each blow as clearly as though they were constellations in the clear night sky.

“With these hands of mine,” Fang replied. “And these hands alone.” She circled around Amadan again. “Because you are not worthy of anything more.”

“You will try,” Amadan retorted. “But you have yet to throw a strike.”

“I will need only one.”

Fang made a show of tossing aside the daggers and knives she hid on her person. Like any good Yun, she had one in her boot and another at her waist. She also had one hidden in her bracers, and she cast that away too.

“When you die,” Fang began, the words coming in the singsong rhythm of a death promise. “The winds will not whisper of your deeds. The trees will not bear your name. The walls will not remember you. You will die a fool, and all the Yun and Dia will remember you only as the fool who thought to insult my woman as we celebrated our marriage.” Fang beckoned Amadan forward. “Come then, fool, or are you coward also?”

“I am no coward!” Amadan sprang, her strong legs closing the gap in an instant.

Fang stepped to the side, and Amadan’s spear shot past her. In the split-second it took the other woman to realise she’d missed, Fang’s right hand came up, claw-like, and seized her throat. There was a flash, a spark of light, and then Amadan’s Aura shattered and Fang’s fingers closed around her throat. A moment later there was only red, and Amadan staggered, dropping her shield and spear as she tried in vain to staunch the bleeding.

Fang tossed aside the scrap of flesh she’d torn loose and spat. 

“Do you hear that?” Fang asked. “There is no wind to mark your passing. The trees do not sighing grief. And even the walls are silent. Die in the dirt where you belong.”

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Author’s Notes

As easy-going as they often are, it is easy to forget that the Yun have basically spent their entire existence locked in battle. Every single member of the Yun is trained in combat, and this is reflected in many of their customs. Even so, matters of honour rarely escalate this far. The veterans and the chieftain do their best to ensure that such matters are handled in private without anyone ending up dead. Of course, there are people who can’t take a hint. Amadan was one of them.

As for what Fang said to her, those three references are insults of the highest order. According to Yun custom, when a person dies, their ashes are to be scattered from the peaks. This is so that the wind might take those ashes and whisper of their deeds to all the world. Someone that the winds do not whisper of is said to have done nothing in their life that is worthy of praise. Likewise, it is also customary for dead Yun to have their names carved into the titanic trees of the forest around Oerba as a living and permanent reminder of who they were and what they had accomplished. To not have someone’s name carved into the trees is to deny their existence, to say that they were so inconsequential that there is no need to remember them at all. And finally, it is said that the great walls of Oerba themselves have a memory, that their foundations are built upon the blood and sacrifice of the worthy. To be remembered by the walls of Oerba is to be immortal, to be honoured by everyone who looks upon them. To be forgotten by the walls is to be shamed, especially for a warrior. Those three insults combined are truly stinging for someone of Yun ancestry, and they would never be used even in jest outside of a situation like this.

Fun fact: When Diana married outside the clan, nobody was dumb enough to say anything during the celebration. Admittedly, part of that is because Fujin does have clan ancestry (not Yun, however), but still... anyone who even thought of saying something remembered what Fang did and thought that maybe it wasn’t worth it.

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