#forty years later someone wrote them making out about it but i'm ignoring that

[brawltogethernow]

In your opinion, does Dr. Midnight only have value as a member of the JSA? I would personally be interested in seeing him show up as a supporting character in Bat and/or Arrow family books, myself. What do you think?

The whole draw of DC being in a constant state of megacrossover is that you can and should kidnap anybody from wherever at any time to see how they do as someone else's supporting character. Weaving weak blorbo strings into durable blorbo mesh.

But also yeah Mid-Nite's first glance vibe has enough overlap with those that it seems like it would be amusing for them to stand next to each other. If they, in fact, have not already? What I need in life is a comic character appearances wiki designed to let you sort for issues where multiple characters appear together.

[mmilkbreadd]

Chapter twenty five: “The End”

Masterpost - Prev.

Warning(s): a bit of swearing ; post-timeskip manga spoilers!!

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Or aka, ‘The Sakusa Kiyoomi Theory’

Act One: “Who is Sakusa Kiyoomi?”

Saturday, 6:23 am, “y/n's home”

“You're late,” said y/n with crossed arms, she was already waiting for him at the door of her house. “I hope this doesn't become routine.”

It was already morning in the streets of Paris. Tendou Satori and her neighbor (and best friend), y/n l/n, were walking towards their famous bakery and chocolate shop, ‘Sweet Strawberries.’ It was a small place with a few tables to sit for tea and delicious things to eat. Also, although it was small, it was quite crowded.

“Woah, how angry you are today, little baker... More than usual, actually” y/n shook her head at her friend's comment. “But obviously I already know why, and it seems that you know why too.”

Y/n decided to ignore what Satori had said, and keep walking quite ahead of him. It was still an hour before the store opened, but they already had several orders that were due to deliver around nine in the morning. A three-tier wedding cake, forty heart-shaped chocolates for the anniversary of a married couple, and of course, the strawberry cake for someone named Sakusa Kiyoomi.

Around a quarter to seven, they arrived at the bakery, and they got down to work to get all the orders completed on time. 

Tendou was more dedicated to the chocolate part, of course, and to serve customers. Despite y/n had advanced a lot in terms of her social skills, she still needed to learn a little about how to communicate normally with a person.

“That 'Sakusa Kiyoomi' has a Japanese name, do you think he is too?” y/n asked, wiping flour from her hands.

“I don't know, they could be. But doesn't that name sound too familiar to you?”  Satori replied.

“That's exactly what I was thinking!”

“Weird.”

“Yeah... Anyway, the customer asked not to make the chocolate so bitter so add more milk to that please.”

“Yes, boss!” Satori made a military signal and continued his work.

Act Two: “Pretending to be Sakusa Kiyoomi.”

8:39 am, “Paris” (?)

Bokuto Koutarou, along with Miya Atsumu and Hinata Shoyo were lost in Paris. They had circled the Eiffel Tower at least five times. But it seemed they hadn't realized it yet.

They were more lost than Bokuto studying math. But a simple city would not defeat them so easily... would it?

“Maybe we should have brought Sakusa,” Hinata said after round number six.

“And hear him complain about how dirty everything is? No thanks,” Atsumu Miya replied, shaking his head. “We don't need Omi-Omi. I, Miya Atsumu, am enough to know where we are.”

Atsumu put a hand on his chest, pretending to be offended. Bokuto and Hinata looked around, ignoring the enormous tower behind them, wondering where they were.

“And where are we then?”

“Paris, of course” he replied. “I can’t believe you’re seriously asking that, Shoyo.”

Hinata and Bokuto looked at each other, unable to believe what their teammate was saying.

“Sure…” Bokuto said, getting his phone out of his pocket. It was time to be the serious person of the trio. “Akaashi, we got lost” and that time was now over. Koutarou was crying as he spoke to his friend, who was on another continent. “No, I can't stop crying, Akaashi. I swear I was following the steps you wrote on the map so we wouldn't get lost, but Atsumu wanted to take the lead, so he broke the instructions, and we don’t know where we are. It's all his fault...! No, Sakusa has not come either.”

“Hey! It wasn't my fault,” the dyed blonde complained, crossing his arms. “And we never needed Omi-Omi!”

“Okay, Akaashi, I'll do it. Bye, love you… As a bro of course” Bokuto finished saying and hung up. “He told me I have to call Tendou. Is the only way.”

Hinata started shaking his head from side to side, while Atsumu slapped his forehead with his hand. Then a message came from Keiji; It was the number of Tendou Satori himself. Bokuto started dialing the numbers that appeared on the screen of his phone, on Hinata's.

“Wait wait, shouldn't I speak? He might recognize your voice” Hinata said, awkwardly taking the phone from Bokuto's hands. 

“He would also recognize yours, Shoyo. I'll do it.” Atsumu snatched the device from him and pressed the call button. “Hello, sir, what’s up? I'm Sakusa Kiyoomi, could you help me get to your store? I'm a bit lost... How did I get your number you ask? Eh– It's on your website dude! You should delete it, some people pretend to be someone else and you should not fall for that...”

Act Three: “If Sakusa Kiyoomi was real, we should have brought him.”

10:04 am, “Sweet Strawberries Bakery and Chocolate Shop”

“I can't believe it took us almost two hours to get here! It wasn't even that far from the hotel” Hinata said looking towards the building that was a few meters in front of them.

“Six blocks. Can’t believe it either.” Atsumu wiped the sweat from his brow. “And now that? Are we going in or not?”

Bokuto went pale. He was going to see you, after so many years without communicating or having exchanged glances. He never imagined that he would see you again after that cold day in Miyagi. He had made a thousand scenarios in his head of how you two meet again: in some distant future you visit your hometown and he visits Hinata, and thus you meet in the park or on the street. You would have your own family, and he would have his. But that would happen in many years, not now. Not at this moment, when neither of you had grown enough... When he hadn't managed to forget you yet. But these weren't Koutarou's inventions, this was reality.

The incredible and stupid reality.

“I don't want to go in,” Bokuto said suddenly and stopped walking. “I’m not ready.”

Atsumu, who was already one step away from the door, turned to see him. Hinata collided with Miya's chest because he was walking right behind him.

“What are you talking about? Let's go in now” Atsumu said walking towards the ex-owl. “We didn't change the whole tour just so you don't go see your little girlfriend… We change it so you do! Don't be scared, do it now or you'll regret it for life. I remember how you talked about her during practice, and I even want to meet her after that! Come on dude, use the little braveness you have left.”

It seemed that Atsumu's words, or Hinata's smile next to him, made Bokuto take courage and head towards the entrance of the shop. 

A bell rang before three pairs of feet echoed through the small place. There was a great smell of chocolate that invaded every inch of the establishment. Hinata paced around the place until the sound of a door opening made the three teammates turn their heads to where the sound was coming from.

“Welcome, what can I offer-- So all of you are Sakusa Kiyoomi, huh?” Satori Tendou said, coming out of the back-room. “You see guys, I never believed this would happen. It makes me think a lot too… So, is Sakusa Kiyoomi even real?”

Atsumu, Hinata, and Bokuto were paralyzed in place for several seconds. The former Shiratorizawa monster stood with his hands on his hips, staring at them.

“Is it Sakusa Kiyoomi? Tell him I'm coming in a minute!” y/n yelled from the back room.

“Oh no, y/n, it’s someone much better!” Tendou replied, holding back his laughter. “You won't believe it even if you see this!”

Then, silence took over the place until a few quick steps interrupted it. A figure appeared through the door, with several boxes in their hands. A pile of boxes so big it covered their face.

“Help me, Satori, I'm going to fall” y/n complained, and after Tendou took out the boxes that covered her view, she saw her friend smiling widely. “What?”

Satori, who couldn't contain his laughter anymore, gestured with his head towards the three statues in the middle of the place. And finally, seeing her friend's face, he started to laugh out loud.

“Kou?”

“A-and Hinata!” shouted Bokuto nervously. Shoyo looked at him and then pointed at Atsumu.

“And also Atsumu!”

“And Saku– shit, we should have brought Omi-Omi after all…”

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Note: I am very very very very sorry for not posting this sooner, but I had thousand of things going on in my life. Now I’m better and ready to finish this beautiful, and crazy, love-story.

I hope you loved it as much as I did. I truly enjoyed it writing, and I’m happy to finish it too.

I’ll appreciate it a lot if you comment down below what you thought about the series. I’ll read you later -Tina.

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Tags in reblog!

Thanks for reading🥰

[schmonkey04-blog]

The Shadows In Her Mind

CHAPTER I

As the blood covered girl sits on the cold lime colored tiles, she thinks about what could, should, have been. A dark shadow stares at her, wondering why she wasn’t jumping for joy, after all, she had gotten what she deserved. Tears start to race down her pale face, as the lyrics of a sad melody flow through her ears. The isolated shadow studied the weeping brunette, desperately wanting to understand what made her feel this way and how he could fix it. The grey-eyed teenager stared at the shining silver knife in her hands, unaware of the conflicted darkness watching her. She couldn't help but remember how she had come to this state.

The memory flooded through her...

“Hayden, wait up,” a black-haired boy called out, running after his friend. As soon as he reached her, Hayden saw his dazzling smile.

“Guess what?” the hazel-eyed boy, Dylan asked after catching his breath.

“What?” she inquired as she tried not to trip on the stairs leaving the building. When she saw the excitement in his eyes, she was surprised he wasn’t jumping up and down.

“I got an A on my calculus test!” Dylan exclaimed. Of course, he always did the best, Hayden thought with a sigh. Every time she was proud of herself for doing well, he did better.

“Oh, good job,” Hayden said, blinking to make sure her eyes weren’t becoming glossy.

“So there's a party on Friday and I know we were planning on watching your favorite movie, but do you think we could reschedule. Amanda’s going to be there and you know how long I’ve had feelings for her,” Dylan quickly stated, as though saying it faster would make it a more appealing idea. It was her birthday on Friday. It felt as though someone had taken a scolding hot knife and plugged it through her heart, only to fill it with bone-chilling water. She should have seen this coming, he always ended up leaving her for someone better.

Hayden hid the tears in her eyes as she quietly said, “Of course, we can go to the movies another time. Have fun at the party.” Hayden rushed toward her car, wanting to leave so no one could see her cry.

Dylan Hanson was her vision of perfect. He was intelligent, athletic, and took time out of his day to spend time with her.

Hayden couldn’t understand why she had killed him.

Hayden was trying to escape the real world with pages of ink and paper when she felt a chill go through her tall body. She wrapped the white knitted blanket closer to herself, pretending that it would protect her from whatever lurked in the shadows. What she didn’t know, was that she didn’t need to fear what was in the shadows, but the shadows themselves. And these shadows wanted revenge.

With shaking hands, Hayden started to remember what she hopelessly wanted to forget.

The crimson blood was messily splattered on the walls, like paint on an unprepared canvas. She could see an indescribable body on the ground ruining the fluffy white rug beneath it. There was a copper kitchen knife sitting still in the neck of what used to be a human being. Hayden looked at her trembling hands, that was covered in a warm liquid. Blood. She could feel her intakes of air getting shorter. Her heart was pounding in her ears making it impossible to focus on something else, anything else. She backed into a corner when the walls started to close in on her. She grabbed frantically at the enclosing structure, mentally begging for it to stop closing in on her. It felt like she had fallen into a river made only of rapids. Every time she tried to get air she was pulled down again. She felt her heart stop when she suddenly she heard a whisper, “He deserved it. You did the right thing.”

“No,” Hayden whispered to herself in denial. “He broke your heart over and over again. He didn’t deserve to be alive.” This was worse than riptides, this was a cold, dark, empty, never-ending ocean of nothingness. Hayden could only shake her head and whisper the same word over and over again as if it would change anything. How could all this have happened, when she was just visiting his house to give him his book back. She could only remember one thing. Her hearing whispering coming from the empty shadows of Dylan's house. The house of the man she just killed.

As she looked at the gleaming knife in her oddly still hands, she realized she should apologize first. She should apologize to the people that the blood on her hands belonged to. After Hayden set the sharp tipped knife on the floor, remembering where she put it for later uses. She then grabbed a piece of paper that was ripped from her journal, a pen from some insignificant drawer, and wrote the names of those she took the beauty of life away from.

First, she delicately wrote the name of her best friend, Dylan Johnson. She paused for a moment as she unwillingly thought back to how the next name or names joined the list.

"Hey Mom," Hayden said as she walked into the living room, only to look around, confused. "And Dad?" she questioned, trying not to show the disappointment flooding through her.

"Your father came home early. I thought we could eat dinner together," Hayden's mom explained. Hayden internally sighed, she could already tell that tonight wasn't going to end well.

But the fate of this dinner was already decided, and it was a lot worse than Hayden could have ever imagined.

CHAPTER II

The family of three was sitting in a beige booth, the elders on the same side of an imaginary war.

"Well, this is really fun," Hayden stated sarcastically, adding an annoyed eye roll at the end.

"Hayden," her mother scolded, looking at her with disapproving eyes, "Behave. Your father cut his trip short so he could see you on your birthday." The teenage girl loathed her frequently leaving father. Hayden could feel the frustrated gaze of the man who sat across from her, with an empty space where his heart should be.

"Your mother mentioned that you quit hockey, in spite of the fact that we spent a great deal of money on practices and equipment," the forty-year-old man announced, as soon as his ex-wife left to use the restroom.

"She also told me that your grades have been dropping recently," he continued, staring at his daughter with his topaz eyes. Hayden scoffed in disbelief. Now she knew the real reason he had come home, to tell her how much of a failure she was. Hayden shouldn't have gotten her hopes up, due to the fact that this wasn't even the first time it had happened and probably not the last.

"You need to get your grades up if you are going to an Ivy League school, which you are," Hayden's father firmly stated, leaving no room to argue.

“I’m really disappointed in you Hayden,” He said, searching her face for a reaction, “You’ve let down me and your mother.” Through Hayden knew he was wrong, she couldn’t help but feel her heart sink in her chest. She casted her eyes onto the tan table, trying to look anywhere but his unforgiving stare. "You should get a tutor. What about that smart friend of yours? Dylan, I think his name was." Mr. Wicklow glanced out the window. "Your mother told me that he has a job here, I wonder where he is." Dead. He was dead. She had killed him. It was at this moment when Hayden finally realized, that this wasn't a dream she was going to wake up from. This was the cold-hearted reality.

Hayden's ash-colored eyes were shining, as she remembered the rest of the night.

She plunged the knife deep into the man's ribs for the fifth time, not even fazed when more red colored liquid splattered on her roseate cheeks. The life had faded from his round eyes long ago. The long-haired girl sighed as if she was satisfied with what she had accomplished.

All of a sudden Hayden's almond eyes widened like she just woke up from a terrible dream. She felt as if her heart had stopped, as she realized what just happened. "No no no no no no," she wailed, shaking the lifeless body in agony. While trying to ignore the whispering from the dark corner of the room, Hayden, silently sobbing, grabbed the rough handle of the thin knife and gradually pulled it out of his chest. She had killed another man.

“He never appreciated you. He made you hate yourself.”

"No one should ever die like that," Her voice was hoarse as she whispered, while shaking her head, "No one deserves a fate that horrible." “He didn't deserve you, you should be glad you killed him.” I didn't mean to, was the single thought in the weeping girls head.

Hayden carefully wrote the name she knew her father by, Lucas Wicklow. The next name to be added on to the list happened on the same day as her father was murdered.

"Oh my god," Mrs. Wicklow blurted out, as she fell to the ground looking at the scene in front of her.

The only response the girl covered in blood had was a trembling, "I'm sorry." Hayden's mind was racing, thinking of any possible answers to this inconvenient problem. She couldn't think of any that ended well for both of them. Hayden looked at her bawling mother as a solution she hadn't thought of was whispered in her ear. Kill her.

"No, I can't," Hayden murmured, almost silently. “You need to kill her.” "No," the girl who was now had lost all emotions, repeated, more demanding this time. But her protests didn't matter as she looked into her mother's hazel eyes for the last time.

Ruby Wicklow was now written on the list, right beneath her husband. Hayden took her time writing the last name because it was the only name that deserved to be there.

Hayden grasped the shimmering luminous knife, humming the lyrics to an old lullaby. She aimed the blade towards a place on her next prey that would cause almost immediate death. The broken girl took a deep breath and closed her eyes, before suddenly shoving the knife into her victim's neck.

The last name on the list was written in perfect cursive. It read Hayden Wicklow.

[dragonpickle29]

Writing Prompt: This house is only $10, 000 when it’s clear that it should be a million dollar house. Why do the owners want to get rid of it so badly?

"The open house is today, my love," an elderly wife told her husband over breakfast.

"Perfect," he replied around a mouthful of oatmeal.

She was Kristen Pashos, and he was Roth Pashos: a couple both somewhere in their late eighties, that had been together for over fifty years.

For forty of those years they lived in the biggest house money could buy to house their foster children as they came and went. Once all their children were adults, with families and homes of their own, the Pashos couple decided that they no longer needed such a large house. And so they had come to the agreement to sell the house, which would leave them with more than enough money to buy a newer, smaller house for just the two of them - and Mrs. Pashos' cat, of course.

After breakfast, as the two of them worked together to clean up the dining room, the door bell rung.

Mr. Pashos looked down at Mrs. Pashos' bare legs.

"Since you refuse to wear pants this early in the morning, I assume I should be the one to answer the door?"

His wife huffed, "No one in their right mind should be wearing pants at 11am."

So Mr. Pashos made his way to the front door, and when he opened it he found two bright smiles shining back at him. A squeal sounded from somewhere behind him and he was roughly pushed aside to make way for Mrs. Pashos.

A small Asian woman stood in the doorway with a young girl in her arms. Her name was Camille Zhao, and the little one was her newly adopted daughter, Louella.

Mrs. Pashos began pinching cheeks and talking about how big her former foster child, Camille, had gotten. Meanwhile, Mr. Pashos tried desperately to herd her back inside, begging her to put pants on. She finally folded and agreed to put on a long sundress that her husband had laid out for her this morning - which wasn't exactly pants, but it was close enough, and relationships are about compromise.

Mr. Pashos ushered the girls into the sitting room and began making tea. He was sure to add extra sugar into Louella's, because what else are grandparents for?

Mrs. Pashos came fluttering down the stairs and plopped down on the couch with an armful of old Barbie dolls for Louella to entertain herself with.

Camille was then bombarded with questions over tea and cookies.

"I can't believe you're actually selling this house, Mom." Camille looked fondly around the room. "I grew up here."

"All you kids did," Mrs. Pashos said as she watched her husband play dolls with their granddaughter, remembering how he had done the same with Camille in that very room.

"How much?" Camille asked quietly.

Mr. Pashos noticed the look of sadness that passed across her face as his wife rattled off a series of numbers.

"Did you want this house, Cam?" He asked her. "We'd gladly give it to you."

"Of course!" Mrs. Pashos exclaimed excitedly. "I would love to pass this house down to you, Camille! We know you want a big family just like we had, and this house would be perfect!"

"Absolutely not!"

"What? Why not?"

"Mom," Camille sighed, "Dad. I will absolutely not let you just give me this house. You always taught us to work for what we want."

"We also taught you that it's okay to ask for help."

"But I don't need it. My budget is $10,000, and that is plenty to buy a house, just not this house."

"But this is your home, Cam," her dad argued.

"I know." She scooped up Louella in her arms and continued on wistfully, "I would love to have this house, but I can't just take it. I'll have to find another one, no matter how much I miss this house. "

Two Days Later

Mr. Pashos was washing dishes in the kitchen when his wife came in, lugging around his toolbox.

She set it on the counter. "I have an insane idea," She told him.

"Great," he said sarcastically, not even bothering to ask what it was about - something he would soon come to regret.

As Mr. Pashos started to put the dishes away, Mrs. Pashos opened up the cabinet underneath the sick to expose the pipes. She rummaged through the toolbox until she found what she was looking for. With one mighty swing, she hit a hammer against a random pipe. Water exploded in her face, and Mr. Pashos finally starts paying attention to her.

"What the hell are you doing, woman?!" He picked up his toolbox and snatched the hammer out of his insane wife's hand.

Mrs. Pashos stood up carefully as water sprayed out of the busted pipe and covered the floor. "I told you I had an idea." She followed him as he walked out of the kitchen. "Where are you going?"

He answered without looking back, "I'm putting this on a high shelf where you can't reach it, and then I'm having you put in a mental institution."

"Okay," She explains, "If we mess up the house it will reduce the value and lower the price. Then Camille will be able to buy it!"

"Honey, there's no way we can destroy this house enough to lower the price to $10,000. And even if we did, Camille wouldn't want a destroyed house!"

Mr. Pashos set the toolbox down on a nearby couch and wrapped his arms around his wife. "I know you're going to miss this house. I am, too. It would be great to keep it in the family and be able to come back for holiday dinners. But I don't see that happening. None of the other kids are planning on big families, and Camille doesn't want it."

"She does want it," Mrs. Pashos protested,"She just can't afford it."

A Week Later

"I did something without telling you because I knew you would say no, but it worked so I can tell you about it now."

"Great," Mr. Pashos said as he turned off his TV to give his wife his full attention.

"I destroyed a part of the house that Camille won't care about but will still lower the price dramatically!" Mrs. Pashos said proudly.

Her husband closed his eyes and counted to ten in his head.

When he had done that twice, he finally asked, "Which part?"

"The reputation!" She bounced down on the couch next to him.

He opened his eyes. "Excuse me?"

"Okay, so, I wrote a story about this house, talking about how it's haunted-"

"But it's not," Mr. Pashos interrupted.

"It is now!"

"Oh my God, woman!" He sat up."Did you kill someone?!"

"No! That's plan C, we're still on plan B. It's a fake story, obviously. I uploaded it to one of those websites that posts really realistic fake news stories, and mine went viral!"

"How on earth did you manage that?"

"I made it really dark and gruesome. A family died here, lots of kids, lots of puppies. Very tragic."

"It sounds like it."

Mrs. Pashos then went into great detail about her story, more detail than her husband ever wanted to hear. She was truly a gifted storyteller, and it was truly a gruesome story. Luckily, Mr. Pashos had had a light lunch.

She was at the part where the murderer killed the butler, when the door bell rang loudly throughout the house, cutting her off, to Mr. Pashos' delight.

Mrs. Pashos sprang up from her seat to answer the door to a very angry Valene Cutler, their real estate agent.

"Mrs. Pashos, we have a serious problem. Please put some pants on so we can discuss it.," She said as she pushed her way inside.

"I'm not putting on pants in my own home!"

Ms. Cutler ignored this. "Someone has spread a horrible rumor -across all of the internet!- that this house was the scene of multiple murders. Now, I've looked into the history of this house and I'm absolutely positive that there has never been a death here-"

"Except for my sanity," Mr. Pashos interrupted.

"Mr. Pashos," She turned her anger on him, "This is not a joke. No one is going to want to buy the Puppy Murder House, as it is being called."

"Ms. Cutler, we have to sell this house," Mrs. Pashos told her urgently, "Even if we have to lower to price!"

"We'd have to give this house away to get rid of it!" Ms. Cutler threw up her hands in frustration and headed into the kitchen for something to soothe her migraine.

Behind her back, Mrs. Pashos smiled proudly at her husband.

A scream came from the kitchen.

"What did you do to your kitchen?!"