#there is no canon in ba sing se

[petricorah]

lee from the tea shop boutta get it (wip) [id in alt]

edit: completed illustration here

[jet-apologistmybadhomies]

the trio we should have gotten 😾

this is based on the fic "is there a way back home?" by dont_leaf_me_alone which i assume is @dont-leafmealone

in a modern Version ofc cuz idk

why does jet look so cheap next to them?? HES BROKE THATS WHY mf does not have time for clothes zuko does tho

i kinda gave up on the Background cuz they're annoying

[jankwritten]

LITERALLY I’m just over here rereading PJO having a grand ol time!!!!!!!!! Truly living my best life 😌like that one community meme where the guy comes in smiling w pizza but everything is on fire instead

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Stale(mate)

Summary: A pact written in blood.

(Vampire!au Dickinette. Vampire!Mari says ACAB. As a cop, Dick thinks this is very concerning.)

It started, as all cases of serial killers do, with a single body.

It was a particularly alarming scene, one that haunted the few officers that had borne witness to it for the next several days. Not because of the murder itself, though that was frightening on its own. When the man’s head had been lifted to check for a pulse, they were given a perfect view of why his neck could no longer support it – for there wasn’t much neck left at all. Deep claw marks poked their way through his shirt, curling themselves in his skin, leaving gaping wounds in their wake. Gunpowder residue suggested that the man had shot at his attacker, but there was no bullet at the scene, and no blood. Not even his own. Despite the cruelty involved in the murder, it was clear that there was a method behind the madness, because he had been bled of every last drop, and said blood had been stolen away.

This wasn’t why the police had been so shaken, though.

It was because the man was one of their own.

It was because, in the officer’s hand, stiff with rigor mortis, was a slip of paper, with one simple sentence in curling, elegant script:

The police department has been dirty lately, but don’t worry, I will clean it up for you all.

Needless to say, the case quickly became a high priority.

Everyone on the force was called to inspect the scene. Invited to take pictures of evidence. Begged for theories.

Dick Grayson knelt in front of the body. His lips were pressed into a thin line, but not quite out of disgust or concern like his peers’.

No, his eyes found their way to the hand that had been clutching the note. It had been taken away for the sake of evidence, but the words were seared into his mind regardless.

The man in front of him had been a dirty cop. Dick had known that even before this had happened, but he had never been able to get any hard evidence. Nothing that couldn’t have been explained away, at least.

Now, it wasn’t necessary.

The words on the slip of paper echoed the ones he had told himself when he had joined the Bludhaven PD. The promise he had made to himself. That he would find evidence on all of the dirty cops, that he would clean up the force.

It seemed like someone was going to do all of the hard work for him.

He put the thought out of his mind. He might agree with the reasoning, at least on some level, but he figured that agreeing with a potential serial killer wasn’t exactly the way to go.

He shook his head. He would focus on this case, get this murderer off the streets, and then go back to his true goal.

⋆♱✮☽🦇☽✮♰⋆

How do you catch someone who leaves no clues behind?

The night it happened, Dick had been staying late, pondering this very question. More cops had been found dead, all drained of blood, all looking as if they had had a run-in with a wild animal, all with their throats torn out. He had stared at the many pictures of all of the different crime scenes that lay strewn across his desk, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair, trying to find any semblance of a clue. But there wasn’t any.

His attention had been stolen away.

Maybe this should have been the first sign.

It shouldn’t have been all that interesting, shouldn’t have held his gaze longer than a few seconds. A cop was bringing in a woman. Based on the gem-covered, short dress with a low v-cut, and the fact that she was clearly on at least one substance, Dick figured she had probably come from a bar. Nothing new. Not worth the ruckus that had started up the moment she had come in, and certainly not worth a second glance from him in particular.

“Drunk and disorderly,” the cop holding her hands behind her back announced to the too-curious room.

Her eyes were sharp when they swept over the room. This should have been the second sign.

The third sign came quickly, the moment she spoke. For there wasn’t nearly as much of a slur to her words as the strap of her dress hanging from her shoulder and the dazed look on her face might have suggested:

“C’mooooon,” she complained, leaning back against the officer, digging her heels in to make it harder for him to take her to one of the holding cells, her head turning to nuzzle into his neck. “Can’t we just keep this between you ‘n me? I’ll make it worth your while…”

The officer’s face flushed red. Her mouth came to press against his pulse point.

Her lips curled into a kind of grin. But not the kind of grin you might expect from someone who was about to get out of jail. Dick had seen that look before. That was full of relief, or sometimes smug, but this was different. No, there was something malevolent there.

She whispered something, and this was the final warning.

Because the officer’s eyes widened in abject terror.

Dick started to rise, his hand finding its way to the gun at his hip.

He never got the chance to even try.

She dug her teeth into his neck and pulled, yanking his artery right out into the open. Blood spurted, splashing everyone in the nearby vicinity in red.

Including her, but she didn’t seem all that concerned. She held the rapidly dying man close to her, her head still tipped back against his shoulder, her tongue poking out of her mouth as if she was concentrating hard on something.

Finally, he was allowed to fall to the ground, and she showed off freed hands. The handcuffs still hung from one of her wrists, but she was no longer limited to only her teeth.

A bullet slammed into her stomach, and she stumbled just slightly with the force of it, but didn’t seem all that affected. She reached down to pick the bullet out of her dress, and then presented it for all to see. There wasn’t a single speck of blood on it.

“Someone’s gonna be paying me back for this dress. I liked it.”

This wasn’t their main concern, though, because the woman launched herself at the cop who had dared to shoot her.

She didn’t even bother with her teeth this time. Instead, she slashed her throat with long claws, and the woman gave a silent scream as she went down, frantically trying to hold the blood in.

She didn’t pay her any mind, instead turning to her next victim.

Dick just… stared as she made quick work of the precinct.

He couldn’t quite bring himself to jump directly into a losing battle. He knew better than that. The only effect the constant gunfire seemed to have on her was annoyance. If she wasn’t concerned about a bullet, then there was little he could do to stop her. She was fast, invulnerable, and (if the desk she threw at the people running for the doors meant anything) stronger than a normal person could reasonably fight off. Fighting her was stupid, and so he didn’t.

And, beyond that… well, he had already admitted, even if just to himself, that he agreed with her goal, even if her methods were hard to agree with. He couldn’t quite bring himself to try and stop her when she was doing what he had been struggling with for months now.

She was efficient, if ruthlessly so.

Before long, he was the only person left alive.

She slowed to a stop. Her hair was a mess, her bun on its last legs, strands falling in her face messily. Somehow, this didn’t make her look like a mess at all. Somehow, even the blood spilling down her chin just added to the strange, unearthly beauty that he couldn’t seem to look away from.

Her lips pulled into an amused smile.

His eyes caught on her teeth, dripping red. On the long canines that might have poked out of her mouth even when her lips were closed, on the other sharp teeth that could tear him to shreds in a second. She ran a tongue over her teeth, her eyes gleaming with something that was distinctly inhuman. Something more.

“You didn’t shoot,” she said.

He swallowed thickly, and then mentally cursed himself when the motion drew her eyes to his neck. “I –... it wasn’t helping anyone else,” he said.

She hummed, pursing her lips in a way that was definitely mocking him. “Did you know your heart rate increases when you lie?”

“Well, my heartrate being fast isn’t all that surprising. I am a little scared of you.”

She laughed, and her teeth glinted in the light. “That, at least, is true.”

She walked towards him, her steps slow and languid, as if she had all the time in the world.

She did.

She came to stand in front of him, and he almost laughed aloud at the height difference between them. You would expect a serial killer to be tall, strong, imposing. She was strong, but if he hadn’t known any better he would have walked right past her on the street without being any the wiser. If not for the blood staining her front, he might have thought her pretty. Maybe he still did, but not in the way he usually found people pretty, but instead like a waterfall. A force of nature, a gorgeous thing you can’t quite tear your eyes away from, something that will pitch you off the side of a cliff, down hundreds of feet towards your doom.

Her gaze flicked downwards, to the gun pointed at her heart. It was useless, they both knew, but he couldn’t bring himself to let go of it. Maybe it was because he was human, but he couldn’t give in, couldn’t lay down and die. Not entirely. He wanted to fight. He wanted to keep her from truly trying to fight him.

Too pale blue eyes (bloodless, he realized dully) zeroed in on the nameplate on his chest. Her gaze, briefly, flicked to the side, as if considering, but either she didn’t care enough to dwell on it or her thoughts raced faster than he could ever hope to comprehend, because she found her way back to his eyes within a second.

She leaned into his space. A hand came up to cup his chin, and he only just stopped himself from flinching.

If she wanted to kill him, he wouldn’t be able to stop her. If he couldn't hold onto his life then, at least, he would hold onto his pride.

A finger came to rest against his pulse point, and even he could feel just how fast his blood was pumping beneath it.

He didn’t have much pride left, but he could at least have this. The knowledge that he hadn’t screamed and cried and tried to run away like everyone else.

“Officer Grayson?” She said, and a faint accent hung onto her words as she sounded out the name, but he couldn’t quite care about figuring out where it was from when a fanged mouth was nearing him. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about you, so I’ll let you off for good behavior.”

“You’re pretty close for someone that’s going to be letting me go.”

She hummed, an impossibly low sound that almost reminded him of a purr, and then tilted his head to the side with her hand. “Well, something tells me that your shock might wear off soon, and I want to be able to clean up in peace.”

This was all the warning he got before her teeth sunk into his neck.

Have you ever been put under anesthesia?

A sudden rush, a buzzing in your head drowning out all thoughts you could have in just a second. No matter how hard you thrash, no matter the amount of panic making your heart race, your eyes droop against your will. Within seconds, you’re gone.

That was what it was like.

Not that Dick passed out, per say. No, he was very much awake. He just… couldn’t bring himself to do much of anything. Not even stand on his own two feet. If it were not for the arm wrapped around his waist, the hand cradling his chin, he would have collapsed instantly. The gun slipped from his fingers and somewhere, distantly, he recognized that it had gone off, but he didn’t really care.

Lips detached themselves from his skin, and she carefully lowered him to the ground.

She smiled, swiping away the stream of blood sliding down the side of her face with her thumb.

“Sweet,” she mused.

“Mm,” Dick said, though even he wasn’t sure what he had been trying to say. He felt… floaty. He had never been one for drugs and had never liked the taste of alcohol enough to get anywhere near blackout drunk, but he suddenly understood why people were so into them. There was something relaxing about not being able to hold a thought longer than a few seconds, freeing about the idea of all of his worries falling away into nothing. He was almost scared of how he would feel after the weird floatiness was gone, but he couldn’t even bring himself to care about that.

All he could think about was the pleasant little smile on the woman’s face, sharp teeth dripping with blood and something that had a deep purple tint.

He lifted a heavy hand towards her.

She snickered and batted the hand away with ease. “Mm indeed, Officer Grayson. How about you get some shut-eye, hm?”

That sounded like a good idea.

He thought about thanking her for it, but he drifted before he could.

⋆♱✮☽🦇☽✮♰⋆

Dick, obviously, had a lot of things to explain when he awoke, his head pounding and in desperate need of something to eat.

Luckily or unluckily, the footage of the incident had been wiped. As had the blood. He wasn’t sure how she did it, because the murders had been bloody and she’d made no attempts at all to try and mitigate that… but his concern was more with how he would have looked on camera. He hadn’t made any attempts to stop her, and had allowed her to put him to sleep without any hints of a struggle. It would not have looked good.

But it also didn’t look good to be the new-ish recruit who was inexplicably the only one left alive during a mass murder.

Thankfully, his blood tests exonerated him. His inability to react was attributed to high traces of a sedative that had gotten into his system. The two pinpricks in his neck were said to be the injection sight and, thanks to the awkward positioning that would require him to contort quite a bit to take it himself, they just assumed he was dosed by a rowdy criminal he had arrested earlier that day, and that it had kicked in at a bad time.

Within a few hours, he was let go to go and sleep off the last of the ‘drug’, given a few days' grace before he would need to give a witness statement…

But he didn’t sleep.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Because it was his job. She was a case that he needed to solve, and it had suddenly become far more difficult. It would take careful planning to take her down. There was a very high chance that he would die trying.

And…

Because of the way she had made him feel. Even hours later, he couldn’t seem to stop craving the feeling of her teeth sinking into him. It hadn’t even hurt. The second she had broken the skin, he had been enveloped in a warm feeling that he couldn’t help but want to go back to. It was as if all of his problems had melted away in that second, and who wants to have problems? Wasn’t it only natural to get a taste of that kind of freedom and then crave it from then on?

As long as he didn’t let it affect his search for her, then it didn’t really matter.

He gripped his phone tighter, the veins in his arms bulging.

It might even help.

⋆♱✮☽🦇☽✮♰⋆

It had been three weeks, but there she was.

If he hadn’t seen it in person, he wouldn’t believe it.

A real-life vampire.

Standing in the sun. He supposed it wasn’t all that surprising to see that she didn’t die like in the stories. The idea of something as powerful as her crumbling away into ash over something so trivial seemed impossible.

If she had noticed him, she didn’t show it. Humming a playful little tune, her head bobbing to music playing in her earbuds, her sundress flowing in the wind, her mess of keychains clinking together as she locked up her apartment… she looked human, in that moment. Like any other person who was just going about their day. She had a job as a tailor. A couple of friends that she would meet up with later. A pet cat that was already meowing and scratching at the door, begging for her to go back in for ‘just a couple more’ pets. She was so… normal.

Maybe the reason they were seen as creatures of the night was less about that being their domain, and more about how difficult it was to see her as anything but human during the daytime. It was hard to conflate the image of her dripping in blood with the girl who looked so alive.

Dick’s breath caught in his throat.

She paused just slightly. She didn’t move, didn’t even stop humming, and yet the air around her changed. Her smile stretched wider, showing off the fangs that had been plaguing his mind for weeks.

But the sun softened even that edge. Glittery lipgloss glimmered on her lips. Sunspots decorated the bridge of her nose. Even the lifeless blue eyes he had noticed on that first night seemed bright when reflecting the sunlight.

She clapped her hands together by her face as if she was just so delighted to see him. “Officer Grayson, sweetheart, how have you been?” she greeted him, as if they were old friends, as if he hadn’t shown up at her house uninvited and she hadn’t killed a majority of his coworkers.

“Awful,” he hissed.

Which was true. His skin had taken on a pallor, sweat beaded his brow more often than not, and his hair hung limp around his face. Whenever the few coworkers he had left asked, he would say he was sick, but that wasn’t quite right. He just felt… antsy. Like something was crawling beneath his skin, trying to claw its way out. He needed to keep moving. If he didn’t, his mind would stray back to the floaty feeling that the vampire had given him, and how that might help calm him down.

“Yeah, you look it,” she teased, taking a few short strides in his direction. “That venom did a number on you. Maybe I used too much…?”

She reached a hand out, ready to grab him by the chin, looking so damn concerned that he almost believed it, but he caught her wrist before she could.

The handcuffs hanging from one of his belt loops were burning hot in the few places where they touched his leg. Which was to be expected on a day as hot as this, where he had to unbutton his shirt and roll up his sleeves for fear of heat stroke, metal does get hot… but it was more than that.

The handcuffs that his department used were plated with silver, or at least a pure enough alloy of it for the cuffs to give vampires pause. Back during her siege on the precinct, she had forgone the use of her superhuman strength when getting out of the cuffs, having to get out the old-fashioned way by stealing the key. If there was any chance of subduing her in a way that was still in line with his training as a police officer, it was through this.

He needed to arrest her.

And yet.

He needed answers more.

He knew where she lived, anyways, so it wasn’t like she could up and leave that easily.

He could spare a few moments to ask why he felt so terrible. Why all of his thoughts were plagued with thoughts of the purple venom that she had injected into him.

“What did you do to me?”

She inspected him for a minute, blue eyes boreing into his own, and he couldn’t help but look away.

She must have found whatever she was looking for regardless, because she answered him: “I used some venom – er, vampire venom, though I think you know that much at least – it was just to calm you down. It’s supposed to be used to subdue our…” she glanced to the side “food while we eat it – think like a rattlesnake or something, but a little more enjoyable for the food… less neurotoxin more vague high feeling… usually people like me tend to take more time when eating, I just tend to be on a bit of a time crunch, so I don’t really use it for that… it does make a good sedative for getaways, though, which is why I did that…”

He stared at her. It stood to good reason that she had never explained venom before, vampires were secretive in nature, but the explanation was so scattered, as if she was coming up with all of it on the fly.

How had he ever thought her a threat?

How was she?

“Now,” she said. “As fun as explaining that was, I do have to pay the bills, so –.”

“Why did you let me live?”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “I’ve already told you. It’s because I’ve heard a lot of good things about you.” Her lips twitched. “You’re ‘one of the good ones’, if you want to explain it terribly.”

“Why should that matter? I’m still food.”

“You’re not food. And, just so you know, I’m not a monster, either.”

He went quiet.

She smiled.

“Ciao,” she said.

Her teeth sunk into his arm, and that was just about the last thing he remembered before he was back to floating. His skin felt like it was buzzing where she held him, dragging him back toward his car. His vision was a blur of bright skies and a brilliant smile.

⋆♱✮☽🦇☽✮♰⋆

Dick groaned when he came to properly. He was laid across the backseat of his own car, the hand she hadn’t bitten pillowing his head. Which meant both of his arms were numb, great. His eyes struggled to focus on the ceiling of the car. Possibly because there wasn’t much to focus on, but more likely because his vision was generally blurry. His head ached, and he realized that, fittingly, he could count out his racing pulse with every throb in his temples.

Okay, admittedly, he had been a little unprepared.

But he could prepare himself now. He knew about her safehouse and, even though it was very likely that she was abandoning it now, it should give him a good idea of the kinds of places she would stay in.

And, if he could get into one of her safehouses when she wasn’t there, then he could really prepare.

He moved to let himself out of the car so he could go in and inspect the place.

… it was a cop car. The backseat is reserved for criminals to be taken in, and couldn’t be unlocked from within for fear of a criminal jumping out during a red light. He kicked the door in frustration.

⋆♱✮☽🦇☽✮♰⋆

“How old are you?” Dick asked the next time he saw her at the precinct. It was a slow day, with only a few cops, none of whom were nearby, and only one ‘prisoner’, so no one paid any mind to their chatty coworker.

You could ask why he wasn’t trying to warn anyone, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good, and he still didn’t have anything that would stop her in her tracks, much less get rid of her for good.

As callous as it might have been, his current objective had shifted. He needed to make sure she didn’t go on a killing spree while he was on the job again. He couldn’t take her down if he was sitting behind bars for collusion.

So. Keep her talking.

“Why do you care? This isn’t Twilight, y’know, I’m not going to fight a werewolf for you,” she said, leaning against the bars.

“You know Twilight? You have to be young, then,” Dick said, a ghost of a smile dancing across his face at the small victory.

She gave a quiet laugh. “Every vampire knows Twilight, trust me. I swear, I may be killing people, but it’s just rude to ask if I sparkle in the sun when I’m trying to do it!”

He tried to imagine that, for just a moment, and a laugh bubbled out of him. “I see.”

“Ugh, if another edge lord tells me that they want me to turn them so they can be with their people or whatever, I’m going to step out into the sun.”

There was a moment of silence, and he could almost feel her hesitation, the words hanging in the air, waiting for her to acknowledge them.

“Twenty-six.”

“I mean, like… actually,” Dick groaned.

She snickered. “I’m serious. I was born twenty-six years ago, in Paris, to this lovely French couple. Humans, just so you don’t ask.”

He mulled this over. She was… twenty-six. At maximum, she had twenty-six years of being a vampire under her belt, and that was if she had been turned as a newborn. If her age of turning was her physical age, then he would guess that she had had maybe two or three years as a vampire.

She had been a human for… most of her life.

How would he feel if he had gone from human one day, to a bloodthirsty monster the next? How could he live, knowing that the only way to do so was to make a meal of other people?

He had the sinking feeling that he would react much the same as she had. Grab the worst people he could get access to, and chow down. Because the other option was to starve, and starving was one of the worst ways to go.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to think about that. “Humans?”

“Mhmm,” she said. “Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng. They were great.”

Dick didn’t miss the use of were.

“How would they feel about their little girl going around killing people?”

She scoffed. “Well, I’d like to imagine that they would be glad I’m not dead, too.”

⋆♱✮☽🦇☽✮♰⋆

The vampire hummed as the door swung open. She glanced behind herself, making sure that she wasn’t being followed, and then swept a leg out to catch her cat before he could sneak past. She scooped him up by the scruff of his neck, giving the cat a tired look.

“Really?”

The cat, being a cat, meowed.

She meowed back. As all cat owners must.

She closed the door behind herself without even bothering to glance back, instead concentrating on making sure her cat didn’t wriggle away. But, finally, the risk was gone, and she set him down. Immediately, he took off in the direction of his food and water bowls, meowing loudly for sustenance, and she laughed lightly, making a move to follow...

Only to stop cold.

Her welcome mat had been turned around while she was out.

Now, most people wouldn’t notice. And, if they did, this would make them immediately wary of who was there and why they would do such a thing.

But Marinette wasn’t a ‘people’ at all, and her expression immediately twisted. She looked back at her door, and found the doorknob had been turned upside down.

Dick’s heart pounded in his chest, and he had to hope that she would just assume it belonged to her cat.

Whether or not she was fooled, she seemed to have bigger problems.

For, you see, he had done some research on vampires and their houses, and found very little that he could use. But in the footnotes of an article about classic vampire mansions (which didn’t apply in this dingy little apartment), he found a strange detail: that, when someone you knew turned into a vampire, you were supposed to flip the doorknob upside down so they couldn’t get back in. Vampires were creatures of habit, the article claimed, and this would confuse them so much that they would have no choice but to leave.

She didn’t look like she was all that confused, admittedly, but she wasn’t making any moves to attack, nor leave. She stood perfectly in the center of the mat, trapped.

“Fuck,” she breathed.

He breathed out a sigh of relief.

Her head jerked to look at him and, for once, he got to see her when she had been thrown out of her element. There was no smile on her face, just pure terror.

It… didn’t feel as good as it probably should.

“The welcome mat?” she said, sounding genuinely offended.

“Well, you vampires aren’t supposed to be able to get inside without being invited,” he argued, coming out from behind the counter. “It’s only fair that I change the mat.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I was invited. This is my house. You are the one who showed up uninvited.”

He decidedly ignored her in favor of pulling out his phone. Trembling fingers scrolled through tab after tab on vampires, until he came upon the one he wanted:

An exorcism.

For just a moment, he hesitated. And not just because the video warned that you had to be a priest to perform an exorcism.

No, it was because she looked so human at the moment, her eyes wide and her fingers bunched in the fabric of her dress, anxiety rolling off of her in waves. Dick had killed people before, it was a part of his job, sometimes he had to make tough choices… but shooting someone was far faster than any of the methods for killing vampires that he had been able to find. Shooting someone was a split-second decision, something that could haunt you but ultimately didn’t give you enough time to regret, to have that horrible second thought.

This was more.

And, though he hated to admit it, there was another, less virtuous reason.

It was also because of that purple liquid she had injected into him. It was… nice. A horrible part of him was dangerously aware of the fact that she was trapped here, would starve without his help, and that she would likely do anything he asked once she got hungry enough. He could get a constant buzz, at the cost of a murderer’s freedom.

At least this jail was nicer than the one she would have gotten were she human.

He shook his head to clear it.

If he didn’t do this now, it would only be harder to quit later on.

He clicked play on the Youtube video, and then repeated after the kindly priest, chanting, a cross held out.

She pressed back against the door and started sliding down, but not in horror or because she was weakening. She looked… bored.

“Hey, an important thing to know about vampires: Christianity doesn’t mean shit to us. Christians are just liars who saw scared townsfolk and decided that they could capitalize. ‘Hey, look, we conveniently have all of the solutions to your vampire problems’.”

Dick… didn’t know what to do about that. Most of the solutions he had found were Christian-based.

But perhaps she was lying.

⋆♱✮☽🦇☽✮♰⋆

She was not. Dick had tried everything. Silver to weaken her. Garlic. Holy water…

He had even had time to feed her cat!

He sat on her counter, among aged wine bottles filled with blood (she had gleefully explained to him that the alcohol stopped the blood from coagulating, which he had not needed to know), scrolling through the internet frantically for something that might work.

She glared at him, her face half-buried in her cat’s fur. Like he had done something wrong. Sure, he had gone into this fully expecting the exorcism to send her crumbling into ash, but she had been trying to drain people of their blood, so he thought that this was kind of fair game.

Still, he bristled. Offended and defensive. “What, was I just supposed to let you go on killing people?!”

“They were going to die anyways, were they not?” she argued.

“Not for several years!”

“That’s the problem,” she said, rolling her eyes. She stroked her cat’s fur, scratching it behind the ear, and the cat purred as it leaned into her. “They would have used those ‘several years’ to cause harm. Wouldn’t it be better this way?”

“They have families! Those people were innocent, and now –!”

“Their victims were innocent, too. So were the victims’ families. But you never see people talk about them.”

Dick… didn’t quite have a retort for that one.

He sighed, running his hands through his hair. “They’re bad people, okay? I agree. But you can take them down using the system, you don’t have to kill them.”

“How’s that been going for you?” She said, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

Dick, once again, wasn’t sure.

“We have the same goal, sweetheart. I’m better at achieving it, obviously, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t work together. I can get all of the people you can’t get evidence on, you can get me schedules and stuff so I don’t accidentally incriminate you or anything. We could work.”

He shook his head. “I can’t let you do that.”

She sighed, tipping her head back to rest against the door. Her expression shuttered closed. “Then do me a favor and go through the actual process to kill me already.”

He perked up.

“Stab me through the heart with a wooden stake, use it to pin me to the earth until I stop moving, burn my body, and then scatter my ashes in a river so I can’t reform.”

“That’s…” Dick said, deflating.

“A lot. But still better than starving. So, prove you’re a good cop, do me a mercy.”

Dick hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip. He could tell she was manipulating him, but to what end? Was she really so scared of starving that she would advocate for her own murder? Or was this all just her version of reverse psychology?

Damn, his head hurt.

It was still hurting from the pseudo-hangover the vampire venom had given him, but this certainly wasn’t helping.

He combed his fingers through his hair, thinking hard. “I’m not going to let you starve...”

She raised an eyebrow.

“What? Going to start body snatching from the morgue or something?”

He snorted a little, shaking his head. “No.” He walked across the small apartment and held his arm out, wrist bared. “You need blood. I have blood. Problem solved.”

“I’m not going to be your pet, I hope you know.”

His lips twitched into something of a wry grin. “I know.”

“I could drug you out of your mind. You wouldn’t even know your own name, much less that you need to run. I may not be able to leave here, but it would not be difficult to make sure that you reach the same fate.”

“I thought you weren’t a monster.”

She grinned, sharp teeth flashing in the light. “Treat me like one, and I will deliver. When I get out of here, I will tear you to shreds. And I will make sure you feel every second of it.”

“I knew the risks when I got this job.”

“Funny. All of your coworkers used to say the same thing.”

He offered her his hand again, and this time she took it.

Teeth sunk into his wrist, and this time it hurt.

[anakinh]

me labelling stuff in my dnd world map using the font consolas: you have to think about the consequences of your actions. your aesthetic choices have meaning. why does your fantasy theocratic dnd world get more sci fi every time you work on it

[flintfeatherrr]

I loooovee the trope where a character actually ends up making the wrong choice to get everything they ever dreamed of getting but it still doesn’t fix the hole in their life (zuko, hopefully aziraphale)

There are no longer what-ifs for them. They think they accomplished their goal, but it was never what they actually wanted

[tinydancer2883]

my first fanfic on ao3, 60k two-shot!

[hella1975]

wait hold on a ursa takes both zuko and azula away fic??? idk how anyone hasn’t done this concept but hella you’ve tapped into a concept that has to be explored at this point! making it zukka is also just the norm around here too.

ah im glad you like the sound of it! i refuse to believe im the first to think of that idea bc i dont think ive ever had an original thought but there's definitely a lack of ursa exploration in the fandom. the thing with this wip is that it's going to be so ginormous and so multi-faceted that it's actually really hard to explain the plot of? like ursa takes zuko and azula with her but ursa is so damaged by what she's been through and is too busy prioritising survival to be loving anymore and their life on the run is so brutal that zuko and azula - still only 9 and 11 years old which is a big reason of why their relationship is able to heal, bc they're still so young - really lean on each other to cope. initially it's a survival thing, but they grow to just genuinely get on well with and care deeply about each other. and one way they do that is that zuko starts telling azula stories! like the two of them become huge avatar nerds bc of these stories and actually i might just give you a snippet bc this is rlly hard to explain LMAO

Neither of them had any idea how to just be nice to each other, but Zuko wanted to be nice. He wanted Azula to be safe. He wanted to protect her. She was his little sister. She always had been, and she needed him. Now, more than ever. 

“You know, Mother used to tell me about our great-grandfather.” Zuko said quietly into the shadows, a whisper to ensure Ursa, always so quick to anger these days, didn’t wake up. “You know he was Avatar Roku?” 

For a while, it was painfully silent, to the point Zuko was certain Azula wouldn't respond. Then; “Of course I know. Some of us actually paid attention in our lessons.” Azula sniped, but she sounded a little too cutting, in a way she only sounded when she was unsure. She didn’t like it when she didn’t know what Zuko was leading to. 

Zuko turned to face her direction, the cheap blanket scratching his chin and not covering all of his body. At eleven-years-old, Zuko was finally starting to grow into himself.  

They were in a town on the outskirts of the Earth Kingdom, barely a speck on the map, and currently, their names were Riku and Aoi. Ursa has been very clear; her children were to never use their birthnames, no matter how alone they thought they were. They were living in a cottage with half a roof, their mother funding the rent by sewing patches onto dresses for a seamstress. She was barely in the house, but Zuko knew even when they left in a few day’s time – as they never stayed in one place longer than a week or two – he would still barely see Ursa. He wondered if she knew how reclusive she’d become. 

“She told me stories about all the Avatars. I always wished she’d tell you them too.” Zuko said a little sadly. “I never understood why she didn’t.” 

This silence was different, and they both knew Zuko wasn’t just talking about the stories. 

“Tell me.” Azula breathed, so quiet Zuko almost missed it. 

“The stories?” Zuko asked in surprise. He had been waiting for Azula to cut him down, to tell him to go away like she used to. But...  

He realised maybe Azula wanted to be nice too. Maybe she was tired of being looked at like a monster by the people supposed to love her.  

Maybe she was just a nine-year-old girl who needed a bedtime story every now and then. 

“Yes, Zuko.” Azula hissed, and his name was so shocking it was like a curse. “The stories. Tell me about the Avatars.” 

So, Zuko did. 

“Water, earth, fire, air.” Zuko whispered, remembering how Mother told it. In the shadows, Azula’s eyes burned gold. “Long ago, the four nations lived together, but everything changed when the Fire Nation, the superior nation, began to share its wealth. The Hundred Year War began, and the only person able to stand in the Fire Nation’s way was the Avatar, master of all four elements. But when the world called for him, he fled...” 

It became a tradition, after that. Zuko would lie beside his sister on the nights neither of them could sleep, and after an entire day of hiding himself, he’d turn to Azula and just talk. In Kyoshi Island, he told her of Avatar Kyoshi murdering Chin the Great. In Makapu village, he told her of Avatar Roku – Great-Grandfather Roku – battling a volcano. And in the Western Air Temple, he told her of the Avatar who never was. 

“He’s out there somewhere, though.” Zuko uttered wondrously. “One-hundred-and-twelve, the last airbender. Can you imagine it?” 

“You’re in your head too much.” Azula sighed. She always pretended not to care, but as the months dragged on, she allowed herself more. First, it was in her asking for a specific story. Then sometimes, she’d slip up and laugh. In the fragments of these nights handed over to ancient legends, as scraps of lies left behind in their wake with every new roof they found themselves beneath, Azula was more herself than ever. She could be, in front of her big brother. That was something she learned. 

They learned other things, too. They learned that the Earth Kingdom was starving, that the Fire Nation was hated, that people weren’t rebelling; they were suffering. The story changed. When Zuko saw technological advancements that bewildered him in the Northern Air Temple, he stopped saying that the Fire Nation was the superior nation. When he saw children with burn scars and amputated limbs, he changed ‘began to share its wealth’ to ‘attacked.’ When the stories he told his little sister of the Avatar turned into a lifeline, a speck of hope in a world of ashes, ‘fled’ became ‘vanished.’

Zuko learned that a war was a war, that his father was not a hero by any means, that they got out just in time. 

And it was hard, but the two had their own rebellions. Zuko and Azula didn’t get on in Caldera, but out here with a string of fake identities behind them and a death sentence at the end of it, they only had each other. Their mother was a wound, their father was a blade, and they were, through it all, still just kids. They leaned on each other in the places they used to bruise. Azula took the softness she tortured her brother over and began to protect it. Zuko took the coldness in his sister he used to despise and chased it away. When Azula drew the curtains and hid in cupboards to hold a flame in her palm and just breathe, Zuko made sure Ursa didn’t catch her. When Zuko lay beside Azula and talked to her until she finally fell asleep, Azula didn't push him away. 

Azula, he whispered, and it was a promise that she could still be who she wanted to be. 

Zuko, she breathed back, and it was a recognition that, through it all, she still saw him. 

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

Somebody to Love (Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson) Masterlist

Summary: Vecna is finally gone and the gates are closed for good. Now what? Life goes on. Now that the world isn't ending, would it be an appropriate time to have a personal crisis? Steve felt like he was owed one. Maybe he can still have that road trip with six nuggets and a curly brown-haired partner by his side.

Warning: Post S4, canon divergent, minor swearing, slow-burn, hints of child abuse, hints of internalized homophobia, slight ooc, implied smut

Background Robin/Vickie, Jopper, Lumax, Jancy, and pre-Byler.

Let me know if there's any more warnings I should add as the story progresses.

No Taglist for this series

Status: In Progress; # of Chapters: 6/?

Chapter One: Returning to Civilian Life

Chapter Two: Welcome Back to the Land of the Living

Chapter Three: Fragile Baby Bird

Chapter Four: Closure and Crushes

Chapter Five: Shakespeare's a Freak

Chapter Six: Paladin of The Party

Chapter Seven: Being The Man His Father Never Was

Chapter Eight: Deserving Happiness

Chapter Nine: Be like the Cool Nerds

[seas-of-silver]

So I see ATLA as an option. May I humbly ask:

Zuko stared in wonder at Katara, watching her in her element. "Whoa."

Thank you for your ask! This is my first time writing for ATLA, so I hope you like it!

~/~

Zuko stared in wonder at Katara, watching her in her element. ‘Whoa.’

After arriving at the Western Air Temple, determined to make amends and finally do the right thing… they had rejected him. If he was being totally honest with himself, he hadn’t expected that outcome. He had instead imagined that they’d umm and ahh for a while before begrudgingly yet kindly welcoming him aboard. The cold reception was like being slapped in the face by a penguin seal. And then when he accidentally burned that blind earthbender girl, he just wanted to dig himself a bagermole-sized hole. If that wasn’t enough, the next morning, when he went to visit again after breakfast, the assassin he had hired made an appearance. Zuko tried to stop the assassin from killing the Avatar, but his orders and negotiations failed. Thankfully he, the Avatar and his friends managed to stop the assassin, and only then was he allowed to join their group.

It was awkward at first, but as lunch progressed and jokes were made, things got better. Sokka, the boomerang guy, cracked a few jokes at Zuko’s expense; and after Sokka broke the ice, the Avatar- Aang, as he insisted on being referred as, quickly followed, as did Toph, and most of their companions soon took the Avatar’s lead and warmed to him. The only person who still wanted nothing of him was Katara. She stiffly and quickly ate her food before storming out in a huff. It made lunch a little tense after that, and once he finished helping with cleaning up after the meal, Zuko went for a wander.

When he and Uncle had been lying low here after the banishment, Zuko had little to do while he recovered except for exploring the temple - if anything, it was the one thing Uncle actively encouraged him to do. When Fath- when Firelord Ozai had burned his face, Zuko not only gained a giant scar, but his hearing in his left ear was impacted a little, and it messed with his sense of balance. With the aches and pains and embarrassing stumbles, it took him a few weeks to rest, recover, and acclimatise to his new norm. In that time, he had discovered much of the temple, including a few spots he favoured more than others - one of which was a large cavernous room that gathered water from the earth and cleansed it, before the water was distributed to various locations around the temple. This room, with its gentle watery soundscape, was the place Zuko had found the most relaxing and peaceful, and was a space he returned to frequently during his last visit. But unlike every other time he came to this room, there was someone else in there.

Water curved around the cave in graceful arcs, winding through the air like it was carving paths for rivers and streams. Inrticate patterns were being weaved as Katara, seeming so small at the base of this gigantic moving water sculpture, bent the water with ease. It was hypnotic, meditative, and incredibly breathtaking. He simply stood there, struck dumb with awe. He had fought against her many a time before, yet somehow he had never truly understood the extent of her waterbending prowess. The amount of water currently in the air was something typically controlled by a handful of benders, and here she was, doing it all on her own without breaking a sweat; if anything, she looked incredibly calm. It was as intimidating as it was inspiring.

He remembered that night in Ba Sing Se, in those crystal caves deep below the surface. He remembered being trapped there with Katara, and the heart-to-heart they were having before Aang and Uncle found them. He imagined that if Azula never showed up and the battle never happened, that maybe he and Katara would be friends now, instead of her doggedly giving him the cold shoulder. He recalled the spirit water she offered to heal him with, the water he heavily suspected saved the Avatar from certain death. He had been very touched by that offer. After everything they had gone through - all the fighting and anger and hurt and chaos - after everything he had put her through, she had shown him an unimaginable kindness…

He shook his head. It must’ve been a tactic she was using; why else would she have made such an offer back then? They were enemies! Well, they were at the time, though not anymore, but still! Why did she offer to heal him? Why did she look at him with kindness and warmth, as if she understood his pain? Why was “yes, please” on the tip of his tongue, words that would’ve left his lips if they weren’t interrupted? Why did she look so hurt and betrayed when he (stupidly) joined Azula’s side when he was made to choose sides? It didn’t make sense! She was kind to him because it was a smart tactical move, not because she actually cared… right?

Zuko groaned internally as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. Trying to understand Katara was like trying to understand Uncle. Uncle. His heart ached when he thought of the man that was more of a father to him in the last three years than his actual father had been since he was born. His betrayal of Uncle sat heavy in his stomach and stabbed painfully at his heart. He was wrong, he knew that now, and he could only hope and pray that maybe one day Uncle would find it in his heart to forgive him. He hoped that Uncle would approve of his new path of helping the Avatar. He wished Uncle could be here with him.

Letting out a slow, heavy breath, Zuko left the cave and headed towards the rooms below. He needed to find Aang - it was time for the Avatar’s first lesson in firebending.

~/~

Ask game: Give me the first sentence and I'll write a short piece for it!

[tragedykery]

girl help the au I keep thinking of to comfort myself is getting out of hand

[ssreeder]

"Amputation"?!?! What do you mean amputation?! And I am not mentioning that one tag that I do not even want to think. You are going going to take my heart and crush it and then give it back to me, aren't you?

And I am going love every moment of it... I am just so happy to read more. You really have excellent way of writing but my friend your words are like beautiful pain.

I am going to read this new one and then continue rereading the 2 other parts.

Well we are in the EK now so crushing is going to be a pretty common theme… so sorry I’m advance about your heart :D

Awwww thanks I am so glad you’re enjoying my many many many words.

I hope you enjoy your reread haha!

[alstroemeriatea]

guys for as much hate as the prequel trailer is getting,,,

i still don’t care i ride the spn train until i die even if it’s disregarding an entire series that hasn’t been released yet as canon and i am LIVING for jackles’ sexy sexy silence and i’ve accepted my clown role for falling for casbaiting

[peony-pearl]

Going into the Iroh tag to find content

[burglar-bird]

Everybody is brainwashed AU

Zuko is taken by the Dai Li with Jet. This complicates things. A lot.

Long Feng works well under pressure. When the gaang starts ripping apart Lake Laogai for the air bison he strategizes. His men handle the little earth bending girl and her friends, meanwhile he and his latest Joo Lee (Zuko) work together to subdue the Avatar. Once they're immobile, Long Feng runs the entire gaang through the mind bending procedure. Obviously it is difficult (there are a few break outs and accidents) but eventually he has the most powerful pai sho pieces he could ever want.

He separates the group for different missions; Katara to the Northern Water Tribe under the guise of finishing her healing apprenticeship, the Bei fong girl back to her estate, Sokka to his father's fleet, and the Avatar to General Fong's army.

Meanwhile, Zuko is kept as Long Feng's personal guard due to his dao skills. Long Feng makes a deal with Azula to give her Ba Sing Se, all the while hiding his latest acquisitions from her. She doesn't think he's a player, but ye still had some tricks up his sleeve. It might take him longer, but he'll eventually have control over each nation in some aspect.

Meanwhile, at the Bei Fong estate Toph has no memory of ever leaving her parent's loving protection. But one day she accidentally bends metal, and the locks on her memory start to break...

[narrativelysignificantturtleduck]

the thing about zuko becoming firelord at the end of the show is that it's not like. a flaw of the writing that an inexperienced teenager takes on political leadership. it's important symbolically both in universe and to the show that zuko is the one to lead his country into its decolonial peaceful future bc he is the member of his family who broke the cycle and took a moral stance about the war. iroh is older and experienced, yes, and we know his moral stance on the war, but there's a lot of baggage there, what with the siege of ba sing se and being the brother of the old fire lord. it doesn't convey that same sense of hope for the future and change, either to the viewer or the in-universe fire nation. zuko's kinda politically perfect - he's still part of the ruling family so it's not perceived as foreign usurpation, but he's young and his banishment and rebelliousness make it believable that he'll actually make change in the nation. and since this is a kids show where these kids are the ones who will save the world when the adults failed it feels very full-circle to have him assume that role. will it be tough on him? you betcha! is that a valid topic to explore in post-canon fic? absolutely! was this the right choice, both in-universe and from a narrative perspective? also very much yes