Continous-mistakes - …….

MARIBAT ARROW APRIL 2023

April is dedicated to the ARROWS. This can be any member of the Green Arrow/Arrowverse extended family.

Roynette Shippers This Is Your Month!

Got an even rarer pair? Those work too!

It can also be BioFam!

Do one prompt! Do them all! Any participation is great! They just serve as ways to encourage that creativity. No Pressure.

This year we are adding an extra prompt weeks for the most popular arrow ship: Roynette! Like with the calendar, only write those prompts which inspire you. You don't have to do them all, and you don't have to do both (though, extra kudos to anyone who tries).

AO3 COLLECTION:

This is the same collection from last year, with a new tag, so if you are looking for last year's this is it now.

TAGS FOR BOTH TUMBLR AND AO3: 

#Arrow April #Arrow April 2023

BE SURE TO TAG THIS BLOG @MARIBAT-CALENDAR-EVENTS AND REBLOG SO OTHERS GET A CHANCE TO SEE TOO!

Guidelines

Any orientation or relationship style is welcome and encouraged (familial, platonic, romantic, aged-up NSFW)!

Any creative works (writing, fics, drabbles, head-canons, art, poetry, incorrect quotes, etc.) are accepted

Tag @maribat-calendar-events in your works so we can share it

Use the hashtag so others can see your work

Keep NSFW works under the ‘Keep Reading’ line with an appropriate warning above

Questions? Send us a message/ask, or contact @izanae

Get creative and have fun! We all look forward to your participation and submissions!

❀。• *₊°。 ❀° 。。° ❀ 。° ₊ * •。❀

𝙷𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚑𝚊𝚔𝚒 𝙷𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜

❀。• *₊°。 ❀° 。。° ❀ 。° ₊ * •。❀

Calendar drawn and made by @the-coffee-fandom inspired and encouraged by the wonderful @boldlyanxious

Welcome to the first Hanahaki calendar event! Hosted in the month known for its showers bringing flowers; May!

A week dedicated to a popular troupe, Hanahaki Disease, which came along in 2008, August 9th. It is a fictional disease in which a character coughs flowers which grow inside them from unrequited love.

How you use the prompts is up to your own creative interpretation! You can use the quotes, flowers, word, or all of them! Do one day, the entire week, do a poem, a masterful piece of art, drabbles and incorrect quotes, or even just a quick doodle. Have fun with it!

Need inspiration? Don’t feel like researching flowers? Flower symbolism has been premade! Just click here to view!

While created with the Maribat fandom in mind, any fandom may use it. But I do hope to see some of my Maribat fans!

Tags for Tumblr:

#Hanahaki Hours 2023 #Hanahaki Hours

Tags for Ao3:

Hanahaki Hours 2023 Hanahaki Hours

Ao3 Collection:

https://archiveofourown.org/collections/HanahakiMay

Tag @the-coffee-fandom and reblog for others to see too! I will reblog any I’m tagged in as well.

Please feel free to reach out to @the-coffee-fandom however you’d like if you have any questions! Especially if you need more information on flowers.

Written out prompts below the cut!

May 7:

Quote: “Everything is temporary, this was merely one of those things.”

Flower: Hyacinth

Word: Wither

May 8:

Quote: “I never thought I’d be the one to hurt you.”

Flower: Butterfly Weed

Word: Acceptance

May 9:

Quote: “Why do you hate me?”

Flower: Lily

Word: Dose

May 10:

Quote: “You know I’m always right here for you, right?”

Flower: Cyclamen

Word: Excuse

May 11:

Quote: “They don’t love me, they’re not that stupid.”

Flower: Lily of the Valley

Word: Term

May 12:

Quote: “I don’t care if you don’t want my help, I’ll do it anyway.”

Flower: Rhododendron

Word: Courage

May 13:

Quote: “Lie to me then.”

Flower: Rose

Word: Cover

Substitutes:

Quote 1: “I’m not going to cry, it isn’t worth crying over.”

Quote 2: “How much of that did you hear?”

Flower 1: Petunia

Flower 2: Begonia

Word 1: Smoke

Word 2: Clear

Roadside Inspiration

“Eyes on the road!” Adrien’s voice boomed throughout the car; voice distorted through the car speakers.

Marinette squeaked, eyes snapping back to the road as the car swerved slightly, which on the backroad she was on, was particularly dangerous.  The roads were narrow with no shoulders.  There was barely enough room for two cars and no room for error.  “Don’t do that!” she screeched back, one hand flying to her chest to calm her now racing heart.  “And I am keeping my eyes on the road.  I know how to drive a car, Adrien!” she growled, fully ignoring the fact that at the time, her eyes were not, in fact, on the road.

“You’re seriously going to tell me you aren’t allowing yourself to get distracted looking for the perfect view in all the lavender?” he scoffed.

Marinette opened her mouth and snapped it shut.  “Yes,” she answered resolutely, with a curt nod to emphasize the point despite knowing full well that he couldn’t see it.

Adrien snorted at the baldfaced lie.  “Sure, Maribug.  We’re just leaving Marseilles now.  How far from the venue are you?”

“Prat,” she grumbled.  She may get easily distracted and she may not be used to driving a car, it wasn’t like she had many opportunities in Paris, but she was an excellent scooter driver and really, how different was it?  And she was keeping her eyes on the road!  It was just the occasional glance to the side to look at the stretching fields of lavender.  It was a positive thing really.  They encourage you to be aware of your surroundings when you drive!

Keep reading

Bernard: wait, how many siblings do you have?

Tim: Hmm? Oh, five, officially.

Bernard: Okay, so...that's Dick, Duke and Damian. And Cassandra, though I'm convinced she's a cryptid. Who am I missing?

Tim: *slow, dawning horror that Jason is meant to be dead, that they never officially met, and Bernard will almost certainly make this into a conspiracy*

Tim:...

Tim: I meant to say four.

Ra's Al Ghul: Talia. Why is your charity case running around stabbing people and causing me a migraine?

Talia: I may have told him that coming out of the Lazarus Pit can induce a rage fever.

Ra's: That wears off after four hours. It's been three months since you dunked him.

Talia: It's therapeutic, father. He's able to express his rage without feeling guilt over it. Let him have this.

Ra's: He ruined my favorite garden!

Talia: For as much as I put into keeping this League running, he gets to ruin as much as he wants.

Okay that would be hilarious.

Jason: *goes absolutely feral*

Talia, sipping tea: You’re doing great, sweetie.

Ra’s: It’s been six months. He’s taken down nine drug rings and three corrupt governments. Will you please tell him now.

Talia: Just let him have this.

So I love the fics of the Batfam finding out Jason is alive and has been alive for a while through the mosy random circumstances, but what if he got got back to Gotham a bit saner and decided to just... see how long it took his family to notice him?

Like food goes missing from the kitchen and Alfred can't figure it out for the life of him until he catches Jason raiding the fridge at two am.

Tim sees Jason sneaking around the manor and just assumes he's hallucinating again.

Bruce notices things around the cave have been moved or are missing and scolds Dick and Tim, who keep denying it was them.

Give me more tired boi Bruce Wayne!

His sleep schedule must be absolutely fucked. My mom worked nights for years and even now that she hasn't been for over four years, she's still basically nocturnal. So Bruce 'Running around as a bat at night' Wayne has no hope.

I want constantly tired Bruce. A tiredness that no coffee or stimulant will fix. A tiredness that comes with trying to solve every problem around you by yourself for years.

The family is eating breakfast? Bruce has his head down on the table asleep while everyone else is chatting. Cass covers his food for him to eat later.

At a board meeting? Everyone else thinks he's wearing shades indoors to be pretentious but Tim knows that it's to hide the fact that he's conked out.

There's a gala on? People wonder where Bruce Wayne has disappeared to, if he's taken some pretty girl (or guy) back to a room to show her a good time. In reality, Dick saw him nearly topple over while talking to someone so he swooped in and led Bruce to a back room for him to nap.

That's why Batman is rarely seen during the day. Not because he doesn't want to be but because he just cannot function whatsoever due to his exhaustion.

It makes him feel a bit bad cause he wants to spend more time with his kids outside of the cowl. He wants to go to more petting zoos with Damian, do more puzzles with Duke and have more cooking lessons with Jason.

He tries his best but all the batkids can tell he's genuinely exhausted. They cover him with blankets when they catch him napping in random places. They try and be a bit quieter when he's asleep. Y'know just make things a little easier.

And while some of them will deny it (read: Jason) their favourite activity to do with their Dad is all cuddling up and taking a nap together.

cough cough @bruciemilf

I love how you know that and are willing to inflict it on the rest of us.

Harmonies of the Multiverse

THEME

When Jupiter collides with autumn, a single moment is born between two entities. Equal harmonies with balance, dancing along a fine line of too far and too near, of brightest and dimmest, of perfect alignment. People say that on an equinox, the sky divides into two parts, golden light and silver darkness.

For Damian Wayne, it meant heading to the rooftop instead of sleeping peacefully in his bed, staring at the sky, but not seeing anything. His eyes would remain blank as they stared up at the twinkling stars almost covered by the rancid smog. He learned at too young of an age that life was not about myths and fairytales, but of monsters in the form of flesh and bone which held their smiles on their face and their daggers in your back.

The equinox meant facing the demons of his past.

He always knew he was never the best person. He wouldn't ever be as selfless as Dick, he wouldn't be as level-headed as Tim, or even as passionate as Jason. He wouldn't have his father's ingrained need to help the dying cesspool they lived in, and he would never have Alfred's heaven-bound level of patience. There would always be that selfish, rash, cold-hearted, narcissistic, impatient prince lying inside of him, waiting to rear its foul head. It surfaced every second he held a blade in his hand, at every mob member terrorizing innocents and criminals alike, every abuser, every villain. A voice inside him purred to rid the world of their filth, of their moral grime. And every single time, it grew louder and louder and louder and louder.

Each time a criminal escaped through his grasp was another chip in his fortitude.

Each time an innocent civilian broke a smile at him, only to die minutes later from an explosion was a stab in the wall between morally good and vengeance.

For every stabbing heart, for every gutless cry of a mother who lost their child.

Wouldn't it be so much easier to erase them before they could commit such barbarisms?

The cold kissed his cheeks, so much like a viper's poison, and he shook his head, banishing the thought from his mind. Ah, she's still inside my head.

Maybe symphonies are built on a beautiful melody. However, the melody would never work if they worked on different concepts. The one his father blasted into his mind was a righteous march, darker in tone than most melodies, but an overarching victory for Good reigned. It taught him patience, morals, ethics, light against darkness.

But, his mother taught him the cellist's devil nature. The darker tones, the echoing, vibrating puppet master giving the audience the illusion that the melody is in control, but in reality, all the melody can do is fall victim to the villainous, tragic whirlpool of misery, murder, and fascist brutality. She placed the blade in his hand, had him earn her love through feats of glorious atrocities, built him up from the ground up into the perfect weapon, too jagged and unpredictable to be used for Good, but whittled down, rusted and corrupted for far too long to be remolded into something useful.

Now, he didn't know where he belonged. Did his melody rise above the dark cello nurtured in him? Or will the melody drown under the alluring, tempest bass driven through his heart, buried deeper than the center of the Earth?

The wind, maybe sensing his demise, could do nothing but blow harder to calm his feverish head filled with questions he could not answer. The somber cold stung the sweet chapped lips all too used to the desert's ice and fire of his childhood, but it stung more bitterly as the North Atlantic ocean blew in the new change in season. Gotham was an outlier. A ghost town of improbabilities and plausibility all clashed together to create a cesspool of madness, hate, and impossibilities.

He wondered why his father, or his ancestors before him, would ever want to stay in a city like this for the rest of their rich, detached lives. Why they would ever choose to spend their lives in this miserable landfill, giving what they have to make the ever-draining city a better place. Why they gaze at the buildings and streets with fond gazes. Why they find it so easy to smile at a Gotham native without feeling like they will get a knife's edge poking their sternum the moment they show their backs.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he cursed God that he was not given this ingrained sense of belonging and mercy to Gotham like all of his family before him.

Pages rustled on in the breeze, and, by miraculous luck, the cover tipped open. Blue light shone through the darkness beyond his closed eyelids, but he did not notice beyond the salty river squeezing through the crevice.

"S'il te plaît, ne me dis pas que tu pleures." Please, don't tell me you're crying. Soft French carried over the quiet din. "I never know what to do when you are crying."

He pried his eyes open, and a vision filled his eyes. A girl, no older than he was, but with a more youthful smile cracked in sorrow, dressed in a midnight blue evening gown glowing in the darkness, blowing in the wind to its own rhythm as it reflected the stars ten times brighter than Gotham Fair's lights. She floated over the torn book of ancient Tibetan magic he brought with him that night, just like he did every solstice, her legs crossed underneath her in an informal squat. Cheeks blossomed like dusky luminescent wisteria, and constellations made of stars brighter than Rigel lost across the bridge of her nose. Her blue crown of hair burned a halo around her, framing bluebell eyes that looked older than a thousand of his lifetimes staring deep into his own green eyes.

The only word he could say was, "Marinette."

Her grin made his heart's symphony subito pianissimo. "Hi, Damian. Happy Autumn Solstice."

================

not me wanting to make this a full fic ;v; (hence the chapter title "theme")

for @jumpingjoy82 for the maribat gift exchange 2022 (i posted on time on archive, just not on tumblr ;v;)

Jason: the Batfam member I see most as my brother is Tim

Dick: What!!! That's no fair, I should be your brotherly-ist brother!

Dick: No offense Timmy.

Dick, turning back to Jason: But I am the one who has been your brother longest, I helped you kill that druglord, I even gave you some of my cookie dough last week!

Bruce: uhhh, back to the druglord thing-

Steph: You shared your cookie dough with him!

Jason: Sorry Dick, but there is one thing that makes you brothers more than anything else, not blood, or time, but...

Jason and Tim at the same time: Contempt

Jason: I have contempt for Tim, like all siblings should. Really the only thing I love more than hating Tim is shit talking other people with Tim. That form of contempt is how siblings bond and I will just say, surprisingly I love bonding with Tim even more than I love terrorizing Tim

Tim: aww, I didn't know we were that close

Jason, panicking cause he doesn't wanna ruin their dynamic: *punches Tim in the gut and runs out*

Tim, shouting after him: You can't take it back now, you ass

Jason: *turns around while running to give Tim the middle finger*