Not My Fic - Blog Posts
Another Miraculous Crossover Nobody Wanted (DCxML)
In the midst of so many Batfamily/Miraculous crossovers, the thing I feel so many people forget is that the Waynes are...well...themselves.
Sure, they're awesome vigilantes. Trained in martial arts and with great mental fortitude to help them against the likes of Scarecrow's fear gas, Joker's venom, and Mad Hatter's manipulations.
...the problem is that Hawk Moth is a whole different ballgame.
He doesn't target their fears or dreams. He targets ANYTHING. Like petty annoyances. Frustrations. Sleep deprivation. Obsessions. Things the Batfamily generally try to ignore on a regular basis.
If he can akumatize and reakumatize the same man over his love of pigeons and people who feel they've been wronged over silly reasons, there's SO MUCH that could come from the complete dysfunction/emotional constipation that is the Wayne family. Remember, ANY frustration or annoyance or upset counts.
Meaning Ladybug and Chat will be having their hands full with the Waynes until they leave.
And given that Hawk Moth comes up with the silliest costumes and powers...
...the others would never let them live it down.
...
It was a beautiful day in Paris. And an absolutely wonderful vacation to the City of Love, where everything was peaceful and nothing was wrong.
Dick stood at the window looking out over the city.
Tim was on his computer doing some reports. Possibly Wayne Enterprises work, but more likely mission work.
Damien had apparently gotten tired of grumbling and was focused on sharpening his sword—which Bruce really shouldn’t have let him bring. But given the situation, he couldn’t argue against letting Damien have something that would help him stay calm.
Cass had found a magazine to occupy her time, though she seemed somewhat confused as to the male teen model that kept appearing in nearly every line.
And Jason…
…he was grinning. And watching Bruce with such anticipation, looking downright hopeful as he waited. Not helping was that he was holding what appeared to be a brand new camera, fully prepared to start recording.
Bruce knew why.
But he would not give him the satisfaction.
Because nothing was going to happen.
Absolutely nothing.
Bruce twitched.
SNAP!
And his pen cracked from the sheer amount of pressure he was putting on it. Which was admittedly an annoyance, but wasn’t that big of a deal…
…if it wasn’t the 15th pen he’d broken in the past three hours.
It was fine though.
Nothing was wrong.
He was calm.
Calm.
Calm.
A muffled voice could be heard from outside despite the room being on the seventh floor of a building. Which of course was a coincidence and not because someone was actually right outside the room….and the building.
And perhaps if Bruce tried really hard, he could convince himself was just someone singing a line out of “American Pie” and not someone talking about butterflies.
No.
Because there were no butterflies outside. Because he was fine!
Not the slightest bit upset!
At. All.
“That’s thirty-three…” Dick counted.
…
…
…
…Dammit.
Bruce sighed.
“Did she come back to the roof?”
“Actually, she never left.” Tim confirmed, not even looking up from his computer. “She stopped leaving after the last incident and has just been standing there for the past couple hours now, catching them as they come.”
A long pause.
“How…?”
“Her partner has been bringing her water and snacks. And keeping watch whenever she has to leave to hibernate or use the little bug’s room.”
Bruce groaned.
Why couldn’t it be a villain? Or a fan or stalker? He could deal with those. He dealt with them all the time.
It was the well intentioned young superheroes that he had a harder time dealing with. The ones that wanted to help but were misguided in not understanding that their help wasn’t necessary.
“Gotcha!”
“Thirty-four.” Dick droned.
…no matter how many magical butterflies implied otherwise.
“Maybe we should do what the nice Ladybug hero asked and finish up our business in Paris?” Tim suggested.
“I refuse!” Damien shouted, jumping to his feet. “This villain has made a mockery of us and it must not be allowed to stand! I will not leave until he has been caught and my sword has tasted his blood!”
“Damien, we don’t kill, remember?”
“I wouldn’t kill him.” Damien said, looking away with a pout. “Just…dismember him a bit.” He frowned, consideringly. “Maybe cut off his arms. He can’t continue villainy then, right?”
Tim sighed.
“So that’s a no on going home early then.”
They heard a noise from the roof.
“Is she leaving?” Bruce asked, trying to hide how hopeful he was.
“Nope. It’s her catboyfriend back again.” Dick replied, blithely.
Bruce sighed.
“Do you think they’re dating?”
“Dick.” Bruce warned.
“Because the city seems to be really hamming up the romantic angle between the two and it’s kinda hard to not see.” Dick continued.
“Dick.”
“Even if it is kinda weird that they’re essentially shipping teenagers.”
“Speaking from experience there, Dickie Boy?” Jason cut in, cheekily.
“Stop it. Both of you.” Bruce ordered. “The goal of coming to Paris was supposed to be to deal with the emotional terrorism from Hawk Moth.”
“A little hard with all your emotional constipation there, B.”
Jason smirked.
“Or should I say ‘Justice Man’?”
Bruce twitched.
bucky barnes: sunscreen assassin
Bucky never thought he’d wind up using his latent skills like this.
“They invented sunscreen for a reason,” he reminded Steve acidly.
“I know,” Steve replied. He’d tried to sound nonchalant, but the fact is that even with the serum, he still burns faster and with more intensity than anyone Bucky’s ever met. After a long six hours at the beach, that day, Steve was in agony, lying on the floor in the living room because it was the coldest room in the house and the tiles were always a little bit chilly no matter what season it was.
He was trying to wait out the desperate hour before the serum got with the program and washed him out again. “UV rays are real,” Bucky said. “They’re out there.”
“I know.”
“People have died of sunburn.”
“I doubt that’s true, and even if it was, it wouldn’t kill me.”
“It’s the principle of the thing.” Bucky prodded Steve’s shoulder with his toe just to hear him hiss. “This is a preventable affliction. You would disrespect countless sunburn sufferers across the world by choosing this fate when some people would die to have the sunscreen resources—”
“I’m not wearing sunscreen,” Steve said flatly.
Steve now denies this constituted ‘issuing a challenge,’ but Bucky knows a mission objective when he hears one.
“Uh,” Sam says next time they’re at the beach, when Bucky flies out of nowhere to wrestle Steve to the ground with his sunscreen-covered hands.
“No,” Steve says sternly, fighting back. It’s not even about the sunscreen anymore, it’s about Steve being a stubborn fucking bastard. Bucky’s also not sure he can take another day of watching Steve stand in the bathroom, rolling the peeling skin off his person with an expression of vague distaste, as though molting an entire layer of skin is an unpleasant but normal human behavior after passing an afternoon at the goddamned beach.
“You,” Bucky seethes through his teeth, “will—slather—”
“Go slather yourself,” Steve hisses back, and if Bucky does get a few solid smears in, Steve throws him handily halfway down the beach, leaving Bucky skidding through the sand in a stopping crouch. He’ll have sand in his prosthetic for days now.
“Let it go, Buck,” Steve tells him, and all Bucky’s efforts wind up achieving is that Steve gets a much more mottled sunburn, like a cow, or like a dog rolled in pink mud. A lot more crankiness gets directed at Bucky when it starts to peel as a result, like it’s his fault Steve thinks he’s too good not to roast half to death.
“Ahh,” Steve hisses, rolling the skin off his shoulders. “This is so much worse. I don’t know where the burn begins or ends—”
“Then wear,” Bucky says mildly, turning the page on his book, “fucking, sunscreen.”
“No.”
“Guess your skin is gonna keep peeling off in weird streaks then.”
“You would do this to me again?”
“I will do this,” Bucky promises, “as many times as it takes for you to get the goddamn picture and put this stuff on—”
“It’s disgusting! It’s wet, and it smells like… chemical coconuts.”
“Less disgusting than shedding your fucking skin?”
“Leave it alone, Bucky!”
“No,” Bucky shoots back; and Bucky always keeps his promises.
Keep reading
Very interesting drabble, but be careful. It's a depressive mood fic.
Looping by Fadedblood (ao3 fic)
Another good fic. This time the opposite spectrum.
I really hate Hylia. My dislike will suffocate her, I swear.
Mic Check
(sfw tickle fic)
Glisten wants a mic. Vee says no. Chaos ensues.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lees: Vee/Glisten
Lers: Glisten/Vee
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Another gameshow finally done!
Vee was backstage, cleaning away the mess from her show.
After that craft sibling managed to win yet another show, the confetti machines got busted and one managed to explode, much to Vee’s dismay.
Imaginary sweat dripped off Vee’s forehead as she brushed away the confetti from the floor.
She could ask Tisha for help of course, but she knew she would decline.
Plus she didn’t really want to see the tissue box after being stuck in a run with her.
Her high pitched, grating voice complaining about every speck of dust on each floor was enough to set her off.
Nearly done with cleaning, Vee started to feel relieved that this day was nearly over and that she could go back to her room to recharge.
But suddenly.
“Ooh VeeEEEeeeEEeee~”
Vee’s heart dropped as she heard a high pitched, grating voice behind her. But this voice wasn’t Tisha’s.
It was that mirror.
“Helloooo my bestest friend in the world! You know, you did SO good today!”
Glistens voice trailed on and on, going on about the gameshow and how ‘well’ Vee composed herself on stage.
He seemed sincere but Vee knew otherwise.
“What do you want, Glisten?”
“Oh, so cold! I’m surprised theres no snow in here!” Glisten giggled, before turning serious.
“Look, I need a mic.”
“Again?!” Vee sighed as she turned around.
“Yes! Toodles wants me to do karaoke with her but I can’t show off my BEAUTIFUL voice to its full potential without a mic! That would be just awful!”
Glisten dramatically sighed.
Vee stared at Glisten, her brow lowering.
“Glisten, i’ve just put away all the mics in one of these boxes, but I can’t remember which one. So I’m going to have to open allllll these boxes again just to look for a mic that you’ll probably break in five minutes.”
Vee opened the door to the storage area behind her, revealing hundreds of crammed boxes, all neatly stacked together.
“Oh thanks, Vee. You’re a doll! Try not to take too long though!”
Vee sighed.
“I think you misunderstood, i’m not getting you a mic.”
Glisten stared at Vee with wide eyes.
“Comeeee onnnn Vee!”
“I said no, and thats that. Please leave as i’m nearly done cleaning.”
Nonchalantly, Vee turned her back to Glisten, blatantly ignoring the puppy dog eyes, which disappeared as soon as her back turned.
“You know what, fine! I can just take this one then! I’m assuming its detachable?”
Before Vee realised what Glisten was doing, she felt a light tug at her tail.
Unfortunately she couldn’t stop a small giggle escape from her lips, quickly disguising it with a cough. She quickly snapped around.
“Don’t touch that!”
“Hm?”
Glisten heard Vee make a weird noise, but he wasn’t quite sure what it was.
“Sorry, did that hurt?”
Glisten gazed at Vee, his grip on the mic not loosening.
“N-no! The tail is not detachable! You can let go now!”
Vee tried to hide the desperation in her voice. She can NOT let anyone find out that her tail is ticklish.
Especially not Glisten.
“Are you sure? Why do you have so many mics around if you can just use this one?”
Glisten tapped on the edge of the mic lightly. This time Vee couldn’t hide her snort.
Glisten stopped in his tracks.
“Wait.”
His smile started to grow. Vee felt her stomach drop.
“Oh, I am never going to shut up about this!” Glisten started to lightly scratch on the mic.
Vee looked away from Glisten as she held in her laughter.
She was not going to let him win.
“Awh, whats wrong, darling? Ticklish?”
Glisten cooed as Vee felt her face heat up.
“O-of course n-not! Robots can’t be ticklish!”
Vee stood as still as she could, not letting Glisten see that he was getting to her, hoping that he would give up.
“Hm, I think you’re lying…”
Glisten sped up the tickling and Vee started squirming around, before she suddenly snapped around and lunged at Glisten.
Glisten quickly yanked her tail, which caused Vee to fall to the ground.
“Oopsies!” Glisten giggled as he suddenly started scratching the handle of the mic.
Unable to get up due to the overwhelming ticklish sensation and all hope lost, laughter finally escaped the tv’s lips.
“GYEHAHAHAHAHA STAHP THAHAHT YOU STUHUHUPID MIRROHOHOR”
Vee cackled loud and hard, rolling around the floor, trying to reach out to her mic.
“Aw, Veeeeeee! Thats not very nice!” Glisten chuckled as he watched the ever so cocky and confident tv be reduced to such laughter.
“THIHIHS ISN’T FAHAHAHIR!”
Vee was practically screaming with laughter, oh the embarrassment she felt.
“Tell you what, dear.”
Glisten slowed the tickling.
“I’ll stop AND I won’t tell anyone else about this..IF you get me a mic.”
Vee glared at Glisten. Oh how she wanted to wipe that smirk of his face.
“I tohohohld you nohohoho!”
“Suit yourself!”
Glisten didn’t hesitate as he sped up the torture again.
Suddenly, something caught his eye.
The brush Vee has been cleaning with came into view and Glisten had a devious idea.
“Hm, it seems theres dust on your mic, darling! You need to take better care of it!”
Glisten picked up the brush and before Vee could object, he slid the brush all over her tail.
“OHOHH MY GOHOHOHOD STAHAHAHAP THAHAHAT!”
If Vee could cry, she would. This was too much.
“D’awww, the ever so famous Vee Version 1, defeated by some tickles…” Glisten teased.
Vee couldn’t take it anymore.
“OKAYAHAHAH OKAHAHAHY I’LL GIVE YOHOHOHU THE STUHUHUPID MIC!”
With those words. Glisten abruptly stopped the torture, and let go of her tail.
“See? That wasn’t so hard was it?”
Glisten beamed as Vee slowly got up, still shaky.
“Go to hell.”
“Gladly, and i’ll see you there!”
Vee gave herself a couple minutes to compose herself, before making her way to the storage room.
“Oh, and you’ll have to be quick! Toodles is probably wondering where I am. She probably misses me so much!”
The audacity. Vee had enough.
“You know, I was talking to Rodger the other day. He told me something really interesting.”
“Honey i’m sorry but unless its about me I don’t care.”
“Oh its about you alright.”
Vee suddenly pounced on Glisten.
“W-What are you doing?!”
Glisten tried to push Vee off him, to no avail.
“Rodger told me that a certain someone had really sensitive sides…”
Vee started to scribble her fingers all over Glisten’s sides. He squealed.
“HEHEHEHEHEHEHE VEEHEHEHE NOHEHEHE”
Glisten kicked his legs around and slammed his arms down.
“I’M SORREHEHEHEHY”
“An apology isn’t going to cut it.”
Vee smirked as she started squeezing his sides. Glisten was in hysterics.
“PLEAHEHEHEHESE NOT THEREHEHEHEEHEHE!”
Glisten had tears in his eyes. The tough exterior he showed off earlier had completely shattered.
“Tickle tickle!”
This went on for a while before Vee finally gave a proposal.
“How about I stop, IF you stop pestering me about this mic AND you promise not to tell anyone about this.”
“OKAYEHEHEHE FINEHEHEHE!”
Glisten was an easy mirror to crack, and Vee knew this.
After a few more seconds, she stopped the torment and helped Glisten up.
“The ever-so perfect Glisten, defeated by some tickles!”
Vee mocked, smirking as Glisten composed himself.
“Oh shush…”
Deflated, Glisten was ready to leave, before Vee grabbed his arm.
“Y’know, maybe you should get a mic, after all this trouble…”
Glisten looked up at her.
“Really?”
“Yeah! Assuming you can find one.”
Vee pointed to the storage room.
“Wait, but-“
“I’m tired, so I’m gonna go and recharge, feel free to lock the door behind you when you’re done!”
Vee tossed the keys to Glisten.
“Oh and make sure to tidy up afterwards, you wouldn’t want to make me anymore mad.”
Vee smiled smugly before leaving.
Glisten stood there, staring at the hundreds of boxes before him.
“…Oh i’m SO telling everyone about this.”
-
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Another fic with Glisten, can you tell he is my fave lmaooo
Anyways I hope you enjoyed!
you know that catco employees are already groaning whenever Kara walks into the office with a new hairstyle or a new outfit bc they know they're going have to put up with their boss staring like she's never seen a woman before
Kara Danvers is, objectively speaking, an incredibly worthy object of one’s workplace crush.
Most of CatCo’s employees will readily admit that they’ve all been there: Kara Danvers is lovely and kind, she has the nicest laugh, she’s practically sunshine personified. She remembers people’s birthdays, brings them coffee unasked, and attempts to temper Cat Grant’s wrath whenever it threatens to strike. Even when she gets bumped to junior reporter, she’s still the same charming goofball, only she now rushes in and out of the building chasing stories with a vengeance instead of lattes. Who could ever resist a crush on her?
Most of CatCo’s employees, however, will also hasten to point out that they could at least keep their infatuation to a reasonable level.
When Lena Luthor first walks into the CatCo bullpen, heading towards Kara without sparing a look for anyone else, the bullpen falls so deadly silent for a second, the clicking of her Louboutins is the only sound that can be heard. Then they all go back to acting totally, extremely normal, as if the most notorious new citizen of National City (a billionaire tech genius at that) isn’t flirting up a storm with a cub reporter right before their very eyes. They only snicker about the gala invitation in a very restrained way, with the appropriate amount of concern and jealousy, Luthor sure knows what connections she needs, Danvers better look out and You’d be trying to make that connection too if you were in her position.
Then the visits become a regular occurrence.
Lena Luthor, CEO of a Fortune 500 company and a staple of 30 under 30 lists, shows up every week, and patiently waits around till Kara, who earnestly says golly and has to be reminded that exclusive is spelled without a ‘k’, stumbles across her. She beams at Kara’s rambling, laughs delightedly at her bad puns, calls her darling in a tone of voice that makes eavesdroppers blush, and bites her lip like she knows exactly what it is that she’d like to devour, and it’s certainly not the vegan bar that she’s dragging Kara away to for lunch. (CatCo refuses to publish the paparazzi shots that surface every third day of the week, but other outlets are not so squeamish.) And Kara meets her every step of the way, face lighting up whenever she sees Lena (even on TV, some note), hugging her tightly with every hello and goodbye even longer than necessary. She gushes about Lena’s projects and meets Lena’s own compliments to her writing with bashful smiles and fidgeting hands. Properly and utterly enamored.
The office settles into the new status quo, young love and all, though it seems to be incredibly slow-burning, with the entirety of CatCo (and likely half of L-Corp) getting front-row tickets to its process. Snapper mumbles about professional boundaries. People start a betting pool, and stare at Kara with a bit more hopeless yearning when she storms past them to greet Lena with a wide smile.
But then, there’s something else that changes with their courtship: Kara starts to get dapper.
She’s already looked unreasonably dashing in thin cardigans and pastel button-ups before, drawing dreamy sighs from the interns she’d stroll past. Now, it’s starting to verge on it’s a public menace to look that hot. The shirts get tighter, more crisp, and with it, her biceps and powerful shoulders considerably more accentuated. Well-tailored jackets start to make an appearance in her wardrobe, along with slim ties (their quirky patterns a testament to Kara’s nature), and elegantly knit jumpers come winter. And Kara starts to stand a little taller, too, shoulders squared and chin held high, her steps ever so slightly wider and more confident every time she has to chase after Snapper in one of their daily bouts.
The effect of it in the office is most profound. A rolled-up shirtsleeve and a hint of tensing muscles, and Jen at the art department almost scraps a magazine cover in her stupor. An unbuttoned collar and loosened tie at a late night editorial meeting, and Mackenzie nearly pours her coffee into her lap.
And the very cause of this upheaval is certainly not immune to Kara’s newfound charms, either. There’s already been plenty of physical affection between the pair, as most of the office and a whole wealth of pap photos would attest, but now, it’s bordering on handsiness. Lena takes any opportunity to squeeze Kara’s arm, run a hand over her shoulder, or rest a hand on her forearm as they talk, and the bullpen grows green with jealousy.
When Cat Grant departs for the White House and L-Corp swoops in for the acquisition, the mood turns explosive.
Any illusions about the lovebirds keeping things more strictly professional with the change of management are shattered when Kara strides into the boss’ office with a gift-wrapped planner, all giddy, only to be greeted with their usual hug. Someone lets out a groan.
It only gets expectably worse.
It’s no fault of Lena Luthor’s overall management style – she’s a decent boss, a shockingly good one, even, if one considers the family name and all its implications, and infinitely milder than Miss Grant had been. But there’s only so many times one can witness their chief blushing in the middle of a meeting, or get lost in impure thought staring through the glass walls of the boardroom, out into the bullpen where the office heartthrob is currently stretching, providing an ample view of her entire upper body musculature. There’s only so many times they can watch Lena lean against Kara’s desk and reach down to gently smooth out her shirt’s collar or fiddle with the lapels of her jacket as they talk. At some point, Lena helping Kara tie the bespoke silk tie that she’s recently gifted her after a trip to Italy, batting away her “Lena, you really shouldn’t have” with “Nonsense, darling” and then stopping to fiddle with the damn thing, staring up at Kara with that unmistakably smitten expression becomes just another Tuesday morning at CatCo.
To say that there is a sigh of relief once news of CatCo once again changing hands start to spread is no understatement.
Andrea Rojas seems like a hardass and people start to feel a sense of comfort. She’s a businesswoman through and through, one whose ideas about running the place might be battled, but one who certainly won’t be head over heels for a pair of pretty blue eyes and jacked arms.
Antsiness and relief thus both settle over the first office-wide meeting Ms Rojas calls, preparing to address the entire staff. The first couple of sentences are delivered smoothly, with none of the longing looks cast into the crowd towards a certain blonde that they’ve had to get used to before, and people are starting to feel safe.
Then, getting to the meat of her speech, Andrea Rojas takes a breath and turns towards where the cream of CatCo’s crop is gathered, with Kara Danvers standing at the very front, arms crossed, navy suit hugging her imposing figure tightly, forehead crinkled in annoyed concentration.
Andrea Rojas looks, then looks again, and skids to a halt, lips parting as she takes in the view. Twelve seconds go by, an agonizing eternity, before she’d continue her speech, her gaze returning to Kara again and again.
“If you have any questions about the future of CatCo, I’d be happy to hear them now,” she finishes. “Or in my office, if you’d prefer to sound your concerns in private.”
She looks around, almost haughty before she’d turn her gaze to Kara again, biting her lip as they lock eyes, and someone in the back finally decides to give voice to what they’re all feeling:
"Oh, for fuck’s sake!”
hey so, quick podfic/visual novel update; it’s still on the way! we’re still in the process of finding VAs. (Tessa, Uzi, N and a few extras)
Funding has come up a bit short so i’ll be opening up some spots in the discord server for volunteer positions for those who would just like to help out for the sake of helping out. we’re looking for assistance with sound design, music, voice work, background art/coding/sprites etc.
Those i have promised to pay still will receive compensation as it would be disingenuous to say otherwise, though if you’re interested in taking on a spot to ease up the workload, it would be a tremendous help. hopefully we’ll have the podfic itself out by sometime mid summer, and the visual novel sometime in the fall or winter if all things go well.
“It was embarrassing, resorting to such primal threat displays to get N to back away from her, but right now, she couldn’t care less. J felt cornered, trapped, like some kind of animal. A scared, pathetic, disgusting animal.”
requiem chapter 9 doodle