Normally when the bats had to work with the Justice League, Jason was left out of it. He was violent in a way they didn't approve of, and didn't exactly like mincing his words. But this time, apparently they were working with someone from a more violent culture, and they thought Jason could bridge the gap.
The Ghost King they called him, or just the Phantom. Apparently he was the resident hero of the afterlife itself and the ghosts currently terrorizing New Jersey, New York, and Ohio were his jurisdiction. But they were clearly targeting Justice League affiliated locations, so the idiots in spandex wanted to work together. And in ghost culture, physical violence is a show of respect or even a form of affection, so Jason had been called in. A few years ago they probably would have called in Damian, but the kid was currently having a morality crisis as he realized he wasn't as okay with murder as he thought. Fair, Jason guessed. He'd done pretty much the exact opposite after all.
"So did you guys actually establish contact with this Phantom guy, or did you just leave a note and expect him to follow it?" Jason gave the idiots a Look, because it really wouldn't be the first time it was the latter.
"We established contact Hood, gods just wait like thirty seconds." Fuck these moral high-ground types were the fucking worst.
"We've been waiting here for two hours, I have a right to be a bit snippy." Of course, as though to mock Jason specifically, a glowing green portal opened up as soon as he'd spoken. And out walked, wait-
"Danny?!"
"Jason?!"
Jason's twin brother.
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mmm thoughts of private executioner!blade, who is high priestess!kafka's bodyguard. well, more like her guard dog, as many fearfully seem to think.
he is aloof and gruff and rough around the edges, his name capturing it perfectly. when in the eyes of the public he either keeps to himself or stands ready by kafka's side, but when out he lurks in the shadows ready and waiting to carry out her death orders.
you, yourself, haven't had very many pleasant encounters with him... if you can even call them that. that being said, you haven't had many pleasant encounters with anyone. notorious for your... less than pleasant disposition, for a lack of better words, you have more people who'd rather see you run through than those you can call a friend.
in a dog-eat-dog world, you had no choice but to protect yourself. that, however, ultimately became your demise.
"oh? so you're the one sent to kill me. can't say i'm all that surprised."
standing before you is the feared executioner. his sword is tucked inside the sheath attached to his hip, that ever-present dark swirl of an aura stifling the air. he doesn't say anything, instead opting to silently stare down at your slumped and worn-out form. you find that his gaze doesn't bother you; rather, it's oddly comforting knowing someone will see you in your last moments.
"i've never asked you for a favour before, so this will be my first and last request for you." in all honesty, you're not sure where this chattiness stems from. considering you're currently in a holding cell under the crime of attempted murder towards kafka (a poisoned wine you were most definitely framed for, though you can't say you were surprised) and are awaiting for your turn to be under the guillotine for your public execution, you probably should be a little desperate towards the private executioner in front of you.
and yet, your mind is nothing if not peaceful.
with a huff, you relay your request, "can you make sure it's quick? painless, preferably, but i'd rather you just get it over and done with."
silence blankets the cold chambers. moisture accumulated along the cobble ceiling drip in a steady rhythm, like a clock ticking away the seconds. it's unnerving, almost, how there is not a single sound other than your impending countdown.
"why?" comes his low mutter, effectively causing a ripple within the stagnant air. you almost think you misheard him, but his following words cease the thought, "why won't you ask me for help?"
had it not been for the abrupt shuffle and clanging against the metal bars, you would have never looked up to see him in your last moments.
his scarred hands gripping the metal until his knuckles turn a ghastly white and blood dripping from his palms is what greets your sight. as your gaze slowly trails up, you almost let loose a laugh of disbelief; who would have thought blade, the infamous guard dog of the high priestess, could make such a desperate expression? one looking as though his whole world crumbled before him, in which he can do nothing but sit and watch.
(you will never know of the anger and desperation which coursed through his veins the moment he heard of your predicament. had it been anyone else, he wouldn't have cared. but you're not anyone else; you're you — unapologetically, wholeheartedly. it didn't take him long to hunt down those behind it, cutting them down without thought and putting an end to their miserable lives. he rushed as soon as he could when kafka gave him the order, no thoughts other than you, you, you, occupying his mind.
you will never know of the anguish which overcame him when he found you in such a state, your once healthy complexion and defiant gaze reduced to nothing but a tiredness which had always sat quietly behind your disposition. he's almost positive the muscle which unwillingly keeps him alive tore at the seems from your request, the acceptance in which you displayed causing his mind to go astray. even as he damn-near begs you to rely on him for help — to run away with him to some place no one knows of you and start anew there — you merely smile, resigned and peaceful.
you will never know of how much blade is willing to put on the line for you, for you never made it to see the complete and utter carnage he wrecked in your name.)
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some thoughts about furry au:
while Adrien is still a model, he also participates in "cat shows", which are like the real world counterpart we have, except its more to show off agility and a well-groomed coat...but this often results in Adrien batting a cat toy around on stage and the audience going "his FORM! it's immaculate!" i don't think he'd like participating in these shows very much. he finds them fake (and boring. Because he always wins)
marinette, like a hamster, uses her cheek pouches as a place to store things. she will bring her friends snacks this way. they are polite and accept the treats...even if they're like "umm...this was in your mouth?" sometimes she forgets she put something in there until someone points it out
Adrien's fur is softer than soft. supremely soft and conditioned. he takes very good care of his coat and brushes it daily. this may or may not be because his mom scared him as a kid telling him if he doesn't take good care of his fur, it'll fall off and he'll look like his father (a sphinx cat)
nino's tail is almost always wagging. especially when he is with alya. that is one happy dog
you know how baby hamsters start as "pinkies" with no fur? yeah that was Marinette. have fun with that visual
lila tried to say she was a rare breed of fox for the longest time. people bought it
gorilla is a silverback gorilla. you can't change my mind. it's practically canon
chloe is extremely conceited about the fact that she is a mink
Felix still tries to impersonate Adrien. when people question where all Adrien's perfectly groomed fluff went, felix tells them he had a bad trip to the groomers. that becomes a headline in all the magazines
when Adrien first develops a crush on Marinette he physically cannot stop himself from purring at the sight of her and Nino has to discreetly be like "bro, your motor started up again"
whenever luka is getting into a really good jam it's hard to stop himself from howling to the music
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