#dead boy detectives quotes

[8athena8]

UNFINISHED: GHOSTS OF KIDS

Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet (Richard Zenith translation) | Neil Gaiman, The Sandman, Vol. 2(25), (1989-1996) | Tana French, The Searcher, (2020) | Witold Wojtkiewicz, Children's Crusade, (1905) | J.M. Barrie, “Peter Pan”, The Little White Bird (1902) | Cassandra de Alba, “The Field of Dead Girls” | Martin Martinček, L’Enfant et l’Ange, (1963) | Wilfred Owen, “Dulce et Decorum Est” (1921) | Penelope Scott, “Dead Girls” (2021) | Neil Gaiman, The Sandman, Vol. 2(25), (1989-1996) | R. Wright, “God Gave the Dessert Too Many Teeth” (2016)

[mattzerella-sticks]

I'm so glad that today, not only Doom Patrol is back, but s3 premiered on National Bisexual Day

[tokenducks]

Anytime I hear Seventeen Going Under by Sam Fender I think of Charles

I mean,

Like, “Outbursts of rage” + comic daddy issues? I can see it.

[awake-my-oceans]

Ben 10

Ben 10

aka what’s likely my one-time foray into this fandom, riffing off @redrobin-detective’s AUabout the Omnitrix being 1) sentient, 2) very possessive of Ben, and 3) not seeing the problem of crossing broadly-accepted ethical boundaries to Care For Ben. This starts as prose then goes into notes and bulletpoint ideas. tw: identity crisis. is that a tag? how do I even tag this??

The worst thing wasn’t how they’d missed it; the worst thing was how they’d laughed at it.

Oh, not at first. It’d been said with gravity, and Ben 10 had enough gravity in him to pull the whole universe into orbit, when he wanted to.

He didn’t want to. Hence the quips, the jokes, the deliberately cocky-lighthearted approach. But underneath—

(The Omnitrix had been built to connect all species, and there was a reason a power like that had chose a boy like Ben. But Ben liked laughing it off, and he was so good at it that no one had realized the joke wasn’t until Ben stopped laughing. )

It had been another battle, another “why doesn’t Ben Tennyson get out of Earth orbit more, he’s dead useful in intergalactic battle” whispered behind Ben 10’s back. And it has gone exactly as expected, until—

“We have had enough, Ben snapped, shifting to one of his largest forms. “We are not a weapon. We were never meant to be a weapon. Stop.”

Battlefields didn’t stop because someone said so. Unless, apparently, the “someone” was Ben 10, voice layered with the echoes of a thousand different species. They stopped.

Ben didn’t. “Both sides are suffering. Both sides are justified. Both sides have done unjustified harm. Any victory will just perpetuate that age-old lie that the victors were always right, and the defeated were always wrong. It’s not—“

The child-warrior’s voice hitched, suddenly too fragile and too iridescent, all at once. “It’s not okay,” Ben said, back straightened not in defiance but in utter power, unashamed of his fragility. “End the fighting—it’s pointless, it’s only getting people killed. Gather the leaders; we’ll convene at the bottom of the cliffs in two hours. War is no longer an option. Prepare accordingly.”

It worked.

Not gracefully, no. There was real pain on both sides, and no one wanted to compromise when they were so sure they could win outright.

Ben 10’s glare, steel and anger and love, reminded everyone that they couldn’t win against him.

And so the war suffocated. Reconciliation and recompense talks were ongoing, but there was enough momentum behind it to carry. But the muted resentment had to go somewhere, and as usual, it went to Ben 10. (Backhanded blame was easier than admitting to the fear and shame they’d curled under, realizing that The Ben Tennyson was someone who loved them enough to refuse to let them die in easy, glorious battle.) Ben 10, it was said, was sweet but arrogant. Listen, said the reports. Listen to a direct quote from the boy-warrior, and see for yourself.

“We’ve had enough of war,” Ben had said, silhouetted against a hazy skyline. “We’re done.”

It got easier to laugh at that, over time. Easier to forget that Ben had said it in what was supposed to be a private moment. Easier to forget that Ben had really meant it. And with thatgone, well. Ben had, from declaring the war ended onward, referred to himself in plural.

He can barely speak the language, some said, shaking their heads. He’s mad with power, others sneered. He’s identifying all his forms as separate, and they all speak together, others said, remembering the brief echoes in Ben’s voice. He’s different than us, everyone agreed, some with reverence, others with disgust.

The Ben 10 fandom had different ideas, but, well, those were fangirls. No one listened to what a bunch of TV-loving teenagers had to say.

(They should have.)

“He’s got a watch so powerful that it transcends species,” they said, brimming with capslock and passion. “Ben Tennyson is two: watch and human. That’s plural. The watch is waking.”

(The watch had always been awake.)

It got to be old news fairly fast. “Ben Tennyson speaks in plural.” It got to be so old, in fact, that everyone short of those who worked with Ben regularly forgot it was a thing, leading to some awkward mid-fight conversations as new teammates remembered oh yeah, this kid’s still calling himself in plural, there’s no backup implied in “we’re here” but he’s backup enough, so we’ll overlook his little flaws.

(“Pull yourself together,” Max snapped, all military and very little grandfather. Ben just looked up with too-wise eyes. “We did,” he said, with just enough echo in his voice that Max backed off.)

The Ben 10 programs had a blast with it. “Speaking as plural” soon became shorthand for “someone cool but a little self-important, someone who thinks his vote is worth counting twice but hey, he’s powerful enough to justify it!” So said the forums, at least, and the forums were massive.

Eventually, it became so normal that Ben’s regular contacts forgot it was even a special oddity. Ben liked lazing off, Ben likes smoothies, Ben liked referring to himself in plural. Frankly, those weren’t the weirdest things about Ben. Life moved on.

Which made it all the more jarring when Ben stopped. “Yes,” he’d said, calm and a little sad. “Yes, I’d like some more breakfast, thanks.”

Gwen froze mid-pancake. “Ben,” she said, then stopped, because how did one say you’re talking like a normal person and that worries me?

“Gwen,” Ben said, wordlessly communicating great love and a great desire to drop it.

She did.

“I’ll do the mission solo,” Ben said, quite firmly, causing a ripple in the command room. They’d got past stiffening at the arrogance of Ben thinking he counted double (yes, even plumbers were on the forum boards), and long ago come round to the idea that Ben really did count for well over double the backup, so he might as well get double the vote. Only Max was a holdout, there.

“Ben,” Rook said, leaning forward. “Are you well?”

A bittersweet smile. “For the first time in years,” said Ben. “Maybe for the first time since the Omnitrix.”

Everyone was too busy unpacking the political implications of Ben Tennyson acting normal—no, not normal, acting mature—to notice the wording. To notice that Ben Tennyson had just referred to the Omnitrix as a thing of the past.

Rook pulled him aside after, though. “You’re cocky, but not nearly as much as you pretend to be, and you’re acting strange. Why did you turn down backup?”

Ben looked up at Rook, eyes glowing ever so slightly green. (Another quirk of the great Ben 10.) “I haven’t been alone for years,” he said. “Why did you think I called myself ‘we?’”

Rook, who also watched the forum boards (albeit with some scoffing) was thrown. “You’re not ‘we’ any more,” was all he could say, uneasy. He knew Ben well enough to know it mattered.

He knew Ben poorly enough that he didn’t know why. He thought he’d had a good read on the kid; now, he was forced to reassess.

Ben wasn’t a kid anymore, he thought, heart sinking. Ben was already twenty. Full-adult by the standards of nearly every species. What else had he missed?

“It’s okay, Rook,” Ben said, soft in that way he so rarely was. “You’ve been busy. So have I. It’s okay not to understand.”

“I didn’t,” Rook said, the words dragging out of him, “say that aloud.”

“Some species are telepathic,” Ben said absently. But no—not absently. Rook knew better than to underestimate Ben like that. Which meant it was intentional, not offhand, which meant—

“Ben,” Rook said, swallowing, “Ben, you aren’t in those forms, right now.”

“I’m always in those forms,” Ben said, quiet with the intensity of wanting Rook to figure out—what?

“Ben,” Rook said. “Tell me what you’re saying.”

“I don’t think I’m ready to, yet,” Ben said with such a strong ache that Rook had to reassess all notions of cockiness on the spot. “But—think on it, yeah?”

“Something’s happened to Ben,” he told his superiors, later. “Something’s changed.”

“What?” Max snapped, tense with logistics and care. “What changed?”

Rook had no answer.

Someone tried to lop off Ben’s arm about once a week, trying to get at the Omnitrix. That wasn’t weird. The weird thing was that this guy succeeded.

The attacker paused, deeply startled, before holding up the dripping limb in victory. Ben paused, a shadow crossing his face, before responding.

But how could he respond? He was suddenly no more than any ordinary boy.

Said ordinary boy closed his eyes, grieving something, before lunging into an attack. Halfway through, his skin rippled in that all-too-familiar way, and by the end of it, the attacker was squirming beneath a truly giant paw.

“I’d like that back now,” Ben said, perfectly mild, as the entire audience gaped. “It’s part of my body—I’m kind of attached.”

The quip was enough to pretend this was normal. Everyone half-relaxed.

Almost everyone. “That’s not normal,” Azmuth said hours later, point-blank.

“I’m not normal,” Ben said, vaguely amused.

“You never were,” Azmuth muttered, before clearing his throat. “I’d expect some independent action from the Omnitrix, yes. But to have it give you powers while physically removed from you? I never built that into its functionality.”

“It sure is weird, alright.”

“Ben, I’m smarter than that. What are you hiding?”

“I—“ Ben paused, awkward and unsure with a baffling edge of resentment, before sighing. “The Omnitrix carries the genetics of many sentient species, and is smart enough to use those genetics. Doesn’t that make it a genetically sentient being?”

“It sure responded like it was sentient, the way it didn’t let anyone but you carry it,” Azmuth said, amused and exasperated.

Ben smiled, soft and affectionate and bitter together.

Azmuth paused. “You’re not joking.”

“I’ve made my opinions on that quite clear,” Ben said, ever so soft.

“No, you haven’t brought it up bef—“

A long silence followed.

“The Omnitrix did,” Azmuth said, “in the early stages of development, before I made the watch as its vessel, it said it was sentient. I thought it was faulty programming. But *Ben Tennyson* has never said this before.”

The accusation hung in the air, unspoken.

“The Omnitrix is sentient,” Ben said, leaning back just a little, so casually at ease. “And its consciousness had touched mine enough that it can affect me without physical contact, hence the events of this morning.”

“You should have told me,” Azmuth said, all disapproval. “I’ll have to research the implications of that, and you knew it.”

“Which is why I didn’t tell you, that sounds like testing and poking and general disruption of my free time,” Ben agreed, and if Azmuth was less intellengent, he would have missed the weight hidden under the cheerful, easy words.

It was Azmuth, in the end, who finally asked it. “Ben,” he said, settling softly at Ben’s side. “Over the years, you’ve become like a son to me. I’m asking as a parent, not a scientist. What is the Omnitrix doing to you?”

“Nothing,” Ben said, sad with truth. “Nothing at all, anymore.”

“Ben—“

“I’ll tell you,” Ben promised. “Tomorrow. But I’d like a day first, to—wrap up loose ends.”

“Will it put you or others in danger?” Azmuth asked, whip-sharp with suspicion.

“No.”

“Then stay here until you’re ready.”

“I’m not going to run,” Ben murmured, exhaustion dripping off every word. “I’ve tried that already, running from it; that’s got me as far as it’s able. But—let me talk to my family, okay?”

Heart sinking—this sounded serious—Azmuth agreed.

Azmuth made a respectful point of not listening. He got information anyways, because Max called him in a fury not two hours later. “Why did I just listen to my grandson give what sounds like his last goodbyes before death?” he demanded.

“I don’t know,” Azmuth said, and oh, how that stung. “He’s telling me tomorrow.”

“I want a full report,” Max hissed.

“No,” Azmuth said promptly. “He’s telling me, not you. He can tell *you* when he’s ready to.”

“His status has critical implications for every species out there,” Max said, tight with anger. “You *will* tell me what’s happened to him.”

Ah.

“We’ve failed him,” Azmuth said bluntly. “We’ve never checked if he’s alright without some ulterior motive. Me, for checking if my invention was in the right hands. You, for planning military encounters. And so whatever it is, he’s kept it to himself. He implied he’s known about this for a while, and I’m not about to fail him again by putting this back into a scientific or military court without his permission.”

A long pause, then.

“This has been building for a while,” Max said, slow with defeat.

“Years,” Azmuth admitted. “But it’s never been useful to say until now. I’ve tried being there for him, but he doesn’t trust my intentions any more, as much as he cares for me. I deserve that. But I won’t make it worse.”

“Then tell him to call me,” Max said, voice near-blank, “when he’s ready. On my private line.”

Not my military one, he didn’t say, but, well, that much was obvious.”

“I will.”

aaaand unfortunately that’s where the wip cuts out, right as we get to the important stuff. in essence: the Omnitrix kept pressing and pressing and pressing on Ben’s mental boundaries, almost becoming him but also so very Omnitrix, so very foreign. and it’s not a one-way process. Ben doesn’t really want to become the Omnitrix, but he in some ways is becoming it.

at this point, there’s a power struggle between the Omnitrix, who wants more-more-more, and Ben, who quite wants to draw some boundaries but 1) he doesn’t exactly have a support network he trusts for help and 2) he legitimately needs the Omnitrix to do his duties, which matter to him, because protecting people is worth sacrificing himself, and if he has to sacrifice himself in this way, it hurts, but the more he understands the Omnitrix the more functionality he gets out of it, the less it glitches, the more other forms are second nature to him without losing any control, the more he gains skill sets he needs.

it’s this slow death spiral of the Omnitrix getting closer and closer into becoming Ben, and Ben reluctantly fighting it a bit less and a bit less.

this is all well pre-fic. at this point we enter stage two: merging. because they are close enough to be one, in some but not all ways. which means that the parts of themself that craved closer-closer-closer are tempered by understanding that’s violating personhood but it’s also half a moot point since they are well past that boundary. there’s this awkward, uncomfortable growth stage where they’re kind of one and kind of two and it’s an entiremess. enter the beginning of the fic

there is another war. Ben 10 is called out yet again. but as you can imagine, there’s been some serious soul searching going on, and they’ve agreed that while their mental space is a tense standoff-merging-longing from both sides, they unequivocally agree that their galactic role is not meant for being some supersoldier to act as a weapon pointed against whatever’s politically convenient. the Omnitrix is built for peace and understanding, and both sides of him legitimately want that and are willing to sacrifice for that.

the beginning of the fic, then, is him snapping outwards, bringing the two parts of him together on the common ground of “peace is what we’ll fight for.” the referring to himself as we is him outwardly acknowledging he is two, instead of being in tense outward denial about it as he’s been up till now. the we is him claiming himself as this new Omnitrix-Ben, and coming to peace with it to the extent that he can move forward, now, not be fighting an endless civil war.

and he understands that now he’s not fighting the merging, from both ends (Ben: wants to protect identity, Omnitrix: understands enough to know that if it wants Ben, it has to let “Ben” be separate from “Omnitrix” )

……now that he’s stopped resisting it, he will become a singular being at some point. but that was inevitable, he realizes in exhaustion and regret and acceptance, and it’s time he stopped being so selfish and turned outward to help people.

the selfishness honestly mostly came from the Omnitrix, back when they were entirely separate. but now Ben has more selfishness and the Omnitrix has more on-the-ground compassion for strangers and that’s the tip of the iceberg on how they’ve been bleeding together.

and then

mid fic

he does become one entity, himself, Ben, with the abilities of all species and a not-quite-mortal existence. the watch on his wrist is for show, since people expect it. as soon as he got vaguely comfortable with accepting this new existence, he quietly reconfigured the watch so it’s nothing more than a pretty piece of wires and plastic. he’s not letting someone else get their hands on the Omnitrix. not that they could, *he* is the Omnitrix, but—there’s still plenty of data, tech, and programming someone could rip off the OG Omnitrix and do real damage with.

this entity calls himself Ben—not because he is, quite, what Ben was, but because he’d rather be treated like a person than a sentient technology, and because he values and wants to continue the relationships Ben had.

Ben doesn’t tell people that he is no longer the full-human, mortal boy they think he is. that would cause too much pain, and he’s got Trauma over “I’m pushing boundaries in this relationship by being too in your space,” which he kind of misinterprets as “telling people about my problems would burden them too much.”

but—he’s reaching out, a little, anyways. he wants to be known as himself, even though “himself” is a messy, sad story that really doesn’t fit the narrative of what people expect of him. when Azmuth finally asks him, point blank, well—like he says. he’s got as far as he can, running from this. and so he tells them what happened. the rest of the fic is exploring fallout.

ok, on to bulletpoint notes

cut scrap from Azmuth saying “Ben, why did the Omnitrix keep working when it was cut off you”

The Omnitrix should have responded as before. But it just sat there, dead. Oh, Ben says, distant and sad. The Omnitrix became part of my body a long time ago. You’d have to kill me to stop it.

—Ben going plural was him and the watch merging identities. In Robin’s ‘verse, the Omnitrix was obvious about how it inserted itself into being Ben. Here, the Omnitrix is—not. It’s simply more and more present, until Ben has to come to terms with the fact that the present-ness is not just companionship but identity, that the Omnitrix loves him so much that it intends to be him, and that it’s powerful enough to do so.

—it’s a struggle, the Omnitrix pushing Ben and Ben retreating. The two stopped and turned outward as pointless war raged. No, they said in unison. No. This is not okay. The war ends now.

—after that—they’ve found a balance. They’ve found where they reach each other, in pursuing peace and understanding everything in a spirit of compassion and curiosity and a fierce need to know, to be, to become.

—they start losing the pieces that most clash against this unity. Ben’s lazy front disappears like mist in the sun, in the face of his need to understand. The Omnitrix’s more possessive and demanding traits ease off, as they more merge and the Omnitrix becomes increasingly uncomfortable with what it’s doing to Bensself, itself, themself. They turn outward, since inward is still a struggle but outward is the need to help people, and that’s their purpose, isn’t it? That’s why they exist the way they do.

—Ben refers to people by their role, a habit started when he was still coming together in his identity. He speaks to roles casually and easily. And thoroughly. “Yes, cousin,” he says gently to Gwen. “Yes, grandfather,” he says, as a quiet admonishment to be family over military. “Hey there, partner,” he says with a bit of a smile to Rook as Rook returns for a visit. Some of it is—he doesn’t know his own name. It doesn’t fit the way it was intended to fit the full-human Ben. And in the wake of that, it feels a little weird using everyone else’s name. And to identify people by function (watch term) and relationship (Ben term)? It’s just that little remove from what Ben before the watch would have done, would have been.

—by the time Ben starts talking about it, he is himself. What that self is? Well. It is some of a human boy with far too many expectations given him. It is some a vastly powerful, brilliant, possessive watch. It is mostly the dialogue between those two-who-used-to-be. Ben, full human proper, and the Omnitrix, full watch proper, no longer exist. But Ben, the aftermath, does. And everyone has to come to terms with that.

Final thoughts. Someone asking Ben about his feelings on this all, how awful it was, well after everything’s gone down

“No,” Ben said distantly. “It was a horror story for Benjamin when the merging was incomplete. But after—I’ve been myself for years. I’ve been healing, and growing, and becoming for years. It’s just not who I expected to become.”

Anyways I Have A Lot Of Feelings About This AU

[stoppit-keepout]

i’m rereading terra ignota...

I got Too Like the Lightning out as an ebook from my library so I was able to highlight with WILD ABANDON. I went particularly feral over:

foreshadowing/delayed decoding stuff where they have conversations about Secret Affairs right in front of you, the reader, without you, the reader, becoming aware of what was going on.

crimes and general freakery (affectionate)

Utopia ;; and Martin ;;

potential 9A sightings

Heads up that the selection of quotes/associated commentary might contain spoilers for the whole series. if you (ps?) are interested in a subset that only spoils for TLtL and/or Seven Surrenders, lemme know.

right [taps papers on desk] let’s go :)

Chapter 2: A Boy And His God Carlyle Foster: “If I were going to abuse my position, all I need is the Saneer-Weeksbooth bash’s door key to wreck the world.”


gosh, I... I sure hope... nobody in the Saneer-Weeksbooth bash’ would ever misuse their power... Wonder if this has occurred to anyone else, Carlyle! Really makes u think.

Chapter 3. The Most Important People in the World Ockham Saneer, speaking to Martin (et al.? #damnatioMemoriae): "You think just because your bash' ponces around the Sanctum Sanctorum you can waltz in here and improve on my security?"

i feel sick, and by “sick” i mean “thrilled.”

(Ockham Saneer) Humanist: "A mass crash is not the danger. The system will ground all the cars if any tampering's detected, and they can self-land even with the system dead. The problem is shutting down all transit on Earth for however long it took us to recheck the system, could be minutes, hours. The Censor told me a complete shutdown would cost the world economy a billion euros a minute, not to mention stranding millions, cutting off supplies, ambulances, police. That's your catastrophe."

looks directly into camera. DIRECTLY!!

"Martin Guildbreaker." His eyes widened as he realized his mistake. "I mean Mycroft, my real name's Mycroft, Mycroft Guildbreaker, but everybody calls me Martin. But I'm not in a cult or anything, it's just one of those nicknames that happens."

things that will absolutely convince people you’re not in a cult: telling them “I’m not in a cult or anything.” also, Martin, sweetheart... you are a Mason...

Chapter 4. A Thing Long Thought Extinct Mycroft on Danaë: But I do know who would win a worldwide vote for the face on Earth most likely to launch a thousand ships.

we’ll see about that :|

Mycroft to Danaë: "Martin understands better than anyone how important it is to keep press and public from hounding Hive leaders' children."

but he’s not in a cult or anything.

Chapter 5. Aristotle's House Mycroft: "Could you resist, day in, day out, if you could resurrect a friend?" Carlyle: "No. No, I couldn't. No one could." I did not correct him.

ok this one’s here partly because it made me emosh, and partly because uh. No one did!

Chapter 7. Canis Domini Lesley Saneer (on meeting Dominic): "What are you supposed to be?"

fucking pwned, get ‘em Lesley!!

Chapter 8. A Place of Honor Bryar Kosala just likes helping people, and is good at running things, and when invited to become the world's Mom she said, "Sure."

can’t tell if it’s my own agenda speaking or if this seemed just as sinister the first time i read it. “likes helping people” “good at running things” ok sure whatever.

Before taking Servicers out for ice cream: "She [Kosala] did not have a smile for Mycroft Canner."

... u in that crowd of Servicers, 9A? [squints] anyway, Kosala can smile at whoever she wants, Mycroft, but also you pointing this out DID make me grumpy at her so gj.

"Jung Su-Hyeon Ancelet-Kosala is a good person, a worthy successor to the Censor and deserving of a place on a legitimate Seven-Ten list someday."

looks directly into the fic that i need to finish writing... camera

Chapter 9. Every Soul That Ever Died "This will be the gentlest of sessions, as Carlyle takes a child down the many paths of skepticism, not to conclusions, but to questions. I will show you worse in time, but you will never understand this history if you do not dare read about another's God."

welp! <3

Chapter 11. Enter Sniper Ganymede at a big party in front of lots of witnesses: "It's been too long, Doctor Weeksbooth. We hear excellent things about your work on the system, innovation after innovation. Admirable. We all sleep the safer knowing the Hive has you guarding its interests."

this made me feel like I was absolutely losing my mind, I had to stand up and walk around. INNOVATION AFTER INNOVATION, HUH. you are at a PARTY.

okay I’m gonna go walk around again now.

"Poor Cato." Sniper mussed his ba'sib's hair. "You were great! No one could have lived the part better. But the spotlight really isn't your place, is it? Don't worry, I'd never mix you up in any real trouble. Cross my heart." Sniper spoke the last words, and made the gesture, looking not at Cato, but straight at Ganymede, holding his President's eyes with a rare expression of true gravity.

MAYBE I SHOULDN’T’VE SAT BACK DOWN. cross my heart.... Ada Palmer, your mind...

Chapter 13. ... Perhaps the Stars "There is one race in whom ambition flows still. I do not mean the Humanists' lust for fame, Masons' for power, or the driving need of Europeans and Mitsubishi to prove their nation-strats superior to one another---those ambitions are appetite or envy by finer names. What I speak of is the primordial ambition which brought us from the trees, which launched the first ships across then-infinite oceans, and drove one brave ape to approach the heavenly destroyer 'fire' and make it ours. Reader, we no longer aim for Earth nor atom, but, so long as the Utopians still live and breathe, they will not give up on our last great dream: the stars."

;~; whispers “never gonna give you up...”

The coat of ruins shrugged. "We're used to it." You may not believe me, but I wept.

of COURSE i believe you, Mycroft. Jesus. also, me too.

Chapter 16. Thou Canst Not Put It Off Forever, Mycroft "¿How long until the next Mars launch?" He asked Cato in Spanish, His voice soft to the point of weakness, as when one talks to one's self to relieve too long a silence. "Two days, fifteen hours," Cato answered automatically, like a child caught mid-daydream by the teacher. "¿For how many generations has the Saneer-Weeksbooth bash' been Humanist?" "I don't know. Ten, maybe." "Thank you. I am J.E.D.D. Mason. The safety of your bash' and the incomparable service you provide humanity has been entrusted to Me, by order of all seven Hives and the will of the Alliance. I am looking for My dog. ¿May I come in?"

I CAN’T PICK OUT JUST ONE PART OF THIS. Cato being as open a book as a human can be, J.E.D.D. Mason never being able to turn the dial down from an 11, the casual dehumanization of Mycroft, His dog.... catnip to me, all of it.

Chapter 17. Tocqueville's Valet Mycroft speaking to the Major about J.E.D.D.: "They are a good Person, Good, honest, kind, trustworthy, and keep Their promises more absolutely than anyone I've ever known."

let’s hope!!! Also love the capitalization of Good.

Chapter 18. The Tenth Director "These Nine Directors don't believe Utopians will really live on Mars in 2660. Utopians do."

I say again: ;~; Utopia.

Mycroft to J.E.D.D. "And if hired Utopians were to plan such a thing [as the Black Sakura break-in] for one of the other Hives, they would succeed, and they would make sure we did not suspect them." I cringe even now repeating this, reader. Do not fear the Utopians. Anyone would call Utopia a fearsome foe, but they do not play these Earthly power games, and, like a nest of hornets, they sting only when provoked.

We Thought We’d Redacted This, Episode 1

Chapter 19. Flies to Honey Chagatai speaking to Thisbe and Carlyle: "Mycroft dropped off a pretty battered young thing they said they rescued from somewhere. Servicer Mycroft, not the Mason, Servicer business as I understand, somebody's ba'sib."

[squints] whose ba’sib, Chagatai. whose!!!

Chagatai's paraphrased answer to Thisbe asking about J.E.D.D. Mason's hobbies: J.E.D.D. Mason's most common activities, at least at home, were reading, conducting business over His tracker, sitting perfectly still doing nothing, and, the all-time favourite, lying perfectly still doing nothing.

never gets old <3

Chapter 22. Mycroft is Mycroft Carlyle doesn't think Mycroft is reformed: "You create things, Bridger, you don't make people into different people." Bridger: "You should talk to Mycroft, you'll see how different they are."

uh ?? UH??? (while I fully believe Mycroft had his come-to-J.E.D.D.sus moment and got the bug protection shoes and spurned violence etc. before he met Bridger, ... Bridger, did you do something? Bridger, kiddo, I think you did something!!! )

Chapter 24. Sometimes Even I am Very Lonely "the deadliest majority is not something most of my contemporaries are, reader, it is something they are not."

;;

Chapter 25. Madame's "Can you imagine a nobler act, reader? Sacrificing his [Diderot's] own chance to add his voice to humanity's Great Conversation to safeguard the Conversation itself?"

unexpected 9A emotions here, gonna go crawl into a hole, brb

Chapter 26. Madame D'Arouet Narration: "Fear forced Utopia to act. They chose a gentle protest. When the Graff trial began they called in sick, "indefinite stasis," as they put it, not one, not hundreds, but all four hundred million at once. The laboratories, factories, think tanks, presses closed. For three weeks the world tasted life without four hundred million vocateurs. Hate rose, and fear, all the arrows of complacent Earth against Utopia, and it was that threat which steeled Mycroft MASON to step onto the Senate floor and stop the Nurturists' Eighth Law at any price. Your hero gave his all for them, reader, for Aldrin, for Voltaire, for Apollo Mojave, not for his Masons, not for Eureka Weeksbooth, not for you."

Mycroft MASON [handshake emoji] tumblr user stoppit-keepout

28. The Enemy Mycroft to Eureka about the Wish list: "You need to be careful---it may have started as a joke, but in the wrong hands it could make the whole Hive look like murderers."

can’t have that...

Ok and this part was just Mycroft’s backstory because I got kinda confused. I feel like there must’ve been foul play RE: the destruction of his & Saladin’s birth-bash’, but I can’t tell if it’s textually-supported, u know? Was this an O.S. thing? Just random bad chance? anyway:

Gardens at Alba Longa very imperial; Brill suggested Aeneas MASON make it into a Denkergarten

Emperor built 5 bash'houses, invited 5 coolest bash'es to live there

"The committee picked one bash' of ex-European Masons, one of Cousins who would later take me in, one mixed Brillists and Humanists, one Cousins and Masons, and, that rarest of treasures, the Mardi bash', which boasted six Hives and a Hiveless, while Apollo's constant visits almost granted it the seventh. Much has been written of my house, the fifth house, the service house, the groundskeepers and maintenance staff that served this think tank, and what inferiority complexes I might have picked up even before the accident as I grew up knowing all my playmates were genius children earmarked for greatness while I was not. It is somewhat unfair of me to contradict my biographers at this late point, but, for the record, I and, while they lived, my ba'sibs knew full well that a committee had chosen the other bash'es, while Aeneas MASON himself selected us. If we had to squander some hours on the not-unpleasant task of gardening, it was the only way the Emperor could secure an undebated seat for the one bash' for which he held the highest hopes. He visited me in the hospital after the accident that claimed the others, and from how he wept I might have been the last chapter of a now-lost masterpiece."

that’s rough, buddy.

Apollo Mojave to the Mardi children: "Would you destroy a better world to save this one?"

putting that in my roster for when I’m baby-sitting for my friends.

Tully Mardi to his crowd: "War! I'm talking about war! Revolution! Blood! You think it can't happen, that without nations, without armies there can't be war? We have police! They're forces enough. It can happen, and it will."

Tully Mardi Shut Up Challenge. But also reminding me of my favourite Fantasy High side characters, the Cubbies. (”laws are threats made by the dominant socio-economic, ethnic group in a given nation. It's just a promise of violence that's enacted and police are basically an occupying army, you know what I mean?“)

Chapter 30. Deo Erexit Sade Headmaster Faust is an avatar of curiosity. "What project would that [the Utopians' most sensitive one] be, Mycroft? What constellation?" "Cultural preparations for Mars," I answered without actually lying.

is this finishing Apollo Mojave’s manuscript?? am I a fool?

31. Dominant Predator Saladin soothing Bridger: "No one else can hurt you while I'm here."

welp!!

Providence had its king [Bridger] defend himself: "I wish you really were Apollo Mojave." The child sniffed. "Apollo would be able to figure out what the bad guys want, and make me understand it, and then we could make a plan, and get Utopians to help."

don’t remember if this made sirens go off in my head before, but !! bridger it’s rude to wish people were other people...

Chapter 32. That There Are Two [starts off with a long Servicer interaction]

[squints VERY HARD] u there?

"I've seen this [Bridger's collection of toys] before," Carlyle whispered. The Message doesn't have to be a burning bush, reader. From the Maker of planets, atoms, and electrons, the Message can be a thought.

CHILLS.

~

ok that’s all I had highlighted! feeling better now that it’s out of my non-backed-up notes app and out into the world! also feeling regretful that now I have to like... do my job for the rest of the day... terrible. I wanna restart Seven Surrenders instead. :(

[quirklessidiot]

Title: filthy rich [1/3] Pairing: millionare!sakusa kiyoomi x y/n [filthy capitalist au] Genre: romance, major angst ahead ,fluff, yandere!au-ish 

Synopsis: Your luck had just run out when you realized that you flirted with danger. [400 followers special]

Warnings: language and none...yet….[although i will put a trigger warning that is a controlling, abusive, and kind of a yandere relationship] Notes: 

Happy 460 followers i- look, i know i promised a long kita fanfic but i got more inspired to finish this and write this one because djjdjdjd ,,, anyways this was originally a kpop fanfic i wrote years ago and i switched it up to an omi fanfic. I don’t condone this type of relationship, if ya see this shit on your partner, please run (i beg of you)

also eheh the remaining two requests will be posted soon so uwu

next  ||  series masterlist || taglist 

“Hey Y/N.”

You look up from your medical textbook to find your aunt standing there with an expensive freshly pressed suit on her hand wrapped in plastic, you had been living with her along with her two younger kids in Tokyo after your parents decided to become humanitarian doctors. Wanting to explore and get out of your comfort zone, you ended up living in the big city along with your mother’s closest friend.

“Oh, hey obaasan.” you greeted, “What’s up?”

“Ah, you see, Shoyo is out now and no one will be able to deliver the suit to Sakusa-san, would you mind doing me a favor and delivering it for me?”

You shut your textbook and stood up from your chair, “Sure, uh- could I have his address?” you ask as you took the suit in plastic carefully from her hands, not wanting to damage something that cost as expensive as your tuition in med school. After saying goodbye to your aunt and carefully placing the suit at the back of your car, you drove your way to the upstate part of the city.

Your second hand car stood out like a sore thumb in the lane of expensive and flashy cars, you wanted to waltz in and out of here quickly. Following your aunt’s instruction’s, you march up to the front desk to hand the suit over to the receptionist, “I’m here to drop the laundry for Sakusa-sa-”

Before you could even finish your sentence, she snatched it away from your grasp. You narrow your eyes at her rather uncouth attitude, “Oh, cool...thanks…” you murmur, not wanting to cause a scene or pick a fight with the rude woman, you made a b-line towards the exit. Away from the judging and prying eyes of the people who were very much above you in terms of class and wealth.

The moment you step out though, you watch in horror as your car is being towed away, “Hey!” you exclaimed, hurriedly going to the worker who was writing something down on his clipboard, “Hey, wait! Please, excuse me?”

The worker turned to you with a questioning gaze as you immediately started to explain that you were in and out of the place and that you were just delivering some laundry but all you got was a shake in the head and the words, “It’s not up to me, that guy called us in.” He points his ballpen towards the man in a suit and paired with a surgical white mask on the phone, “...The parking here is for residents only and clearly you’re not one of them.” 

Your eyes almost widened at his explanation, just what was wrong with people who lived here?

You fumingly grab the piece of paper he hands to you and stuff it in your pocket as you march up to the stranger on the phone, “Hey, excuse me!” you proclaimed, there were a few on-lookers but you ignored them, you were seeing red with the treatment you’ve been receiving here. The raven-haired stranger ignores you, still on his phone so you call him out again and when you do, the darkest pair of obsidian eyes are on you.

You clenched your fists tightly as the quote ‘eat the rich’ comes into your head.

“There must be some mistake.” You began slowly, trying to put your anger at bay because you didn’t want the whole thing to escalate in public, “I’m in and out here, all i did was deliver and I didn't know-”

“Your ignorance doesn’t excuse you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ignorance of the law excuses no one.” He simply states, “Also the car was on the way in my space and not even a parking spot.”

You let out a loud, sardonic laugh, “I’d be gone in two minutes if you waited.”

“You would’ve wasted my two minutes.” 

You clenched your fist tightly and as you were about to bite back on his snide remark, the receptionist from before intervenes, “Excuse me, he’s right. You aren’t allowed to park here.” she tries to look professional but you know she’s just siding with this idiot since he had the money.

“Right.” you nod, “You know what, fuck it, this blows. All I did was my job and I have to be shitted on because I don’t have money like Mr.fancy-pants over here.” You bellowed,your glare was intense as you turned around, stomping away before you would do anything you’d regret.

The stranger’s eyes towards you do not waver though, how interesting, he thought.

You never wanted to return to that place again, not only did you lose a lot of money to pay your toll fee for your car but you needed to buy a bunch of new books for the new semester. You groan out loud as you also realize that you needed to do a grocery run since all you had were empty packets of instant Ramen and water in your apartment.

Chunking the cue cards to the side, you made your way to the convenience store, the city was definitely alive tonight and amidst that, you look absolutely dead tired. Your eye bags were getting thicker, a few zits had popped out, and you had grown thin in an unhealthy way because of your food consumption.

Man, being in med school and being dumb wasn’t a very good combination.

Your thoughts are interrupted when your aunt calls you again and says you have to do deliveries tonight, “You remember Sakusa-san?” your aunt says on the other line.

You couldn’t help but grimace at the mention of the man and the memories of where he lived.

Man, did this Sakusa-san needed new neighbors.

“What does he need a suit for in this unholy hour?” You mentally groaned.

“He needs it for laundry, you can have the money when you pick it up.”

Your ears immediately perk up at the mention of cash, you decided to take public transportation since you didn’t want to risk getting your car toll away by that Sakusa guy’s wretched fancy-pants neighbor. Grocery shopping could wait another time, “Stupid rich people.” You muttered under your breath as you pushed open the entrance to find the same man who you despised, sitting there with a laundry basket next to him.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You mumbled, sucking in a deep breath, you say, “Sakusa-san?”

“So I was right.” he says, pulling down his mask to reveal his sharp features, “You were the one who delivered my suit that day. It’s usually a young boy with a bike.”

Boy, this man was definitely at his prime, he was probably a good few years older than you and you bet he had the ladies swinging left and right with that face. Too bad he had a shitty attitude though.

“Well, that doesn’t give you an excuse to tow my car away.” you deadpan.

“How much do I owe you for the unfortunate accident then?” his tone was rich and low but you detected no remorse in it, it was as if waving huge chunks of money would help tremendously. The asshole couldn’t even properly say sorry to you because of the hard time you had to go through that time.

“None,” you scoffed, “Just hand me your laundry and pay the fee, we’ll call it even.”

The raven-haired man tilts his head and carefully hands you the laundry bag along with a wad of cash, your eyes immediately widen out of character, “Woah, wait-”

“For the troubles.” He simply replies, “Goodnight.”

You later found out that his full name was Sakusa Kiyoomi and not only was he rich, he was filthy rich. The man used to be a big volleyball player back or something when he was in high school and college but instead of becoming a pro player, he had inherited the family business.

“Huh, so he was a capitalist.” You stare at his picture at the morning paper which was coincidentally an article about him. You decided to forget about it, expecting to not see him after that night since Hinata had no classes or practices these upcoming weeks yet weirdly enough, he started to ask for you to pick up his laundry instead.

So you both fell into a strange routine, you’d pick up his laundry and return it the next day. He was also there to pick up his things and you no longer needed to talk to the rude receptionist. You were suspicious of him yet you decided to just overlook it, he gave good tips and he wasn’t as rude as the first time you met him, in fact, he made small conversations now and you sort of got to know the man.

You had a weird dynamic but strangely enough, it worked.

“L/N-san.” 

“Good evening,” You greeted per usual, holding out your hand yet his eyes squinted at the bandage on your hand.

“What happened.” the raven-haired man asked, his gaze zeroing on the wound that you got in one of your classes.

“I’m a med student...I cut myself instead of the cadaver in class.” you shrug nonchalantly as you wiggle your fingers, “It’s alright though, I’m not going to stain your suit that you keep putting back to the laundry for some odd reason.”

“You got hurt.”

“Happens to the best of us.”

Sakusa mutters something incoherent under his breath before saying, “I’ll take you to your car.”

“Woah there-”

The man ignores you as he walks ahead of you, this was certainly getting out of character, even for him who always asked for you, “Open it.” He orders as he points to the car door, you begrudgingly obliged and did as he said. He places the laundry inside and turns to you to give you his usual pay, “Take care of yourself next time, L/N-san.”

The very next day, your aunt hands you an expensive package of ointments on your doorstep. Your brows are furrowed together in confusion as she says that they’re from the millionaire himself. You pointedly look at the package in front of you, completely lost as to why someone like him would send something like this to the person who he wasn’t exactly close with.

“Y/N-saaaaan…” Hinata drowns, you snap your gaze from your notes to the young orange-haired boy, “I’ve got news!”

You had stopped working for your aunt since you found a job at your university’s library, not only were the hours more lax but they even minus some of the tuition as long as you worked there. It was definitely a win-win situation for you.

“What’s up, orange?” You asked.

“Remember Sakusa-san?”

You hum a reply, “What about him?”

“I think he likes you.”

You almost choke on your saliva when you heard that, this little brat, why you ought to-

“He looked really disappointed when I said that you didn’t work for us anymore.” Hinata explains, cutting your thoughts short, 

“Right.” You drawl, shaking your head, “Maybe you were just hard to look at, that’s why.”

“Hey!” He clenched his fists together and pouted at your tone, “I don’t even know why he likes you!”

You feel a vein pop in his forehead as you hear his insult,  you proceeded to chunk a pillow to his direction in which he successfully dodged, “Get your facts straight and I assure you, he doesn’t like me.” you grumbled, returning to your books.

Ultimately, you thought that you’d never see Sakusa Kiyoomi ever again. It was fairly obvious that outside your job, someone of high caliber as him was someone you’d never see again yet you're immediately thrown off guard when you find him standing there around your campus.

Your eyes widen in surprise, well what do you know? it was the devil himself.

“Sakusa-san.”

“L/N-san.”

Man, you may not have seen him for a month or two but despite wearing the mask, you could tell that  e still sported the same blank and basic bitch face behind it. Hinata was wrong in all ways, this guy wouldn’t like you, he’d probably deem you too low class for him, “What a surprise, it’s been a while.” You stiffly bowed down.

“You’re acting weird.” 

You raise your gaze to meet his and you could see the glint of amusement in his eyes.

“You’re most likely a guest in the university.” You mumbled, scratching your head, “People might come at me if I treated you as casually as before.”

Sakusa raises his brow, “That’s funny coming from someone who was this close to punching me during our first meeting.”

“You were being a dick that time.”

“How you have guts to say that to my face amazes me every time.”

“Oh yeah?” You chortled, amused by his statement, “I’m starting to think you’ve taken a liking on me.”

“Was it not obvious when I kept asking for you from Hinata-san?”

You immediately choke on the coffee you were sipping, burning your tongue in the process, “Okay what the hell, sakusa-san-” you said in between coughs.

Your freeze up when you look at him dead in the eye, his eyes crinkling, was he smiling behind the mask? No way, the Sakusa Kiyoomi was smiling at you? He pulls down his mask and bends down, making you retract your steps and your cheeks flush to a brightly red color, “You’re turning red.” he points out loud and that makes you turn even redder.

“You’re acting weird.”

“You were getting dense.” 

“How was I supposed to know...to know that…” You try to stutter out, completely embarrassed.

“To know what?” 

“You know what.” You grumbled, standing up a bit straighter and ignoring his teasing tone, “I’m not interested in you.”

“Your red cheeks say otherwise.”

“It’s the cold weather.” You harshly replied, looking away again, trying to avoid his gaze, “I’m not interested in a boyfriend, a flirting partner, or whatever that is. So good day!” 

You immediately stomp away, leaving Sakusa Kiyoomi with an amused smirk. How entertaining and adorable, you looked like a bunny. His cute bunny.

A few days had passed from that little interaction and you wanted to hurl yourself out the window whenever you thought about it. Sakusa Kiyoomi? The filthy rich capitalist Sakusa Kiyoomi? Interested in you? What kind of k-drama was this?

You tried to avoid going out much in the campus, Apparently he was around after he donated half a million to the medicine department.

You immediately groaned out loud at the thought, there was in no way that all this was possible!

“L/N-san.”

You immediately jump on the spot and drop your keys, “Holy fucking-” You pause, biting back your tongue, there he stood sporting a casual attire instead of a business suit and his usual face mask,  “Sakusa-san?”

“Kiyoomi.” He smoothly corrects.

“Nice. Very nice.” You dryly replied, “Heard you donated half a million and some new equipment to our department. Sweet.”

“You don’t look that happy.”

“I mean you basically confessed that you were interested then decided to donate to my department only.” You narrow your eyes suspiciously, “You remind me of a sugar daddy.”

“Well,” He shrugged, “You didn’t exactly deny that you wanted one.”

Your brain immediately short-circuits as you try to stutter out a reply, Sakusa looked like he’d been having a field day. Gone was the fiery girl he met a few months ago, he really knew what to say to reduce you to a stuttering mess.

“I’m kidding, L/N-san.” he deadpanned when he realized that you weren’t giving him a straight answer since your mind was jumbled up, “It was purely coincidental, we’ve been eyeing certain medicine departments and yours was performing top-notch. It doesn’t mean that I’m any less interested in taking you out.”

“You do know I’m poor right…” You sweatdrop, “I could easily take advantage of you-”

“One date, L/N-san…” he says, ignoring your very weak argument, “Just one then I’ll let you go.”

You don’t know why but you ended up saying yes that day.

You didn’t know what to expect on your first date and you had your fingers cross the whole time that he wouldn’t take you to an expensive michelin star restaurant since you didn’t have the clothes for the place.

Thankfully, the date was more casual than you expected, it was in his home and he had  cooked the meal himself.

“You’re looking oddly relieved.”

“I can’t function well in expensive restaurants.” You sweatdrop, covering your awkwardness with a laugh. You’ve never gone on dates before, the idea of being intimate with someone had made you feel awkward and bothered. 

“I’m not a big fan of public areas so I assure you we're not going on those anytime soon.” 

“Well aren’t you getting confident.” You raise a brow, teasing him a bit as you start to pick on the beef with your chopsticks.

“Call it a gut feeling, L/N-san.”

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“You asked me to call you Kiyoomi and well,” you turn red once again, “Well it would be awkward if you were all formal with me.”

You saw the small twinkle in his eyes, “Y/N.” your name rolls out of his tongue smoothly and you feel your heart hammering on your chest, “I like that, Y/N…” 

It was in that little moment that you realized that you liked it when he called your name.

The dinner went by without a hitch, Sakusa Kiyoomi was not the same arrogant man that the media portrayed him to be. He was quiet, understanding, and soft. Completely the opposite of the first day you met him. He urged you to talk more about yourself, saying how boring and open his life was since the media tailed him a lot.

“Why Tokyo?” 

“Why not?” You shrug, swishing the wine before taking a small sip, “It’s a great place, it’s new, and I had someone I knew here. My mom and Obaasan were good friends so I was allowed to move here on my own.”

“Are you coming back to your country if you’re done with your studies?”

You were silent for a moment, “I don’t think so. I wanna be like my parents.”

“A humanitarian doctor, huh?”

“Yeah.” You smile, “A humanitarian doctor. How about you? What’s your story?”

“Nothing interesting.” He glazed, “I’m an open book, Y/N.”

“Open book?” You tilt your head to the side, “You’re usually painted as an asshole by the media…”

“But you don’t believe it.”

“You kinda were when we first met.”

For the first time, you hear his soft chuckle and your heart starts beating fast. You liked that sound, you wanted to hear something like that again, “You always know how to amuse me, Y/N.” he shakes his head, “And for the record, just because I’m not comfortable with touches, public places and whatnot does not make me an asshole...I just am a very private person with interests…”

“What’s your interest now?”

“You.” He replied nonchalantly, making you look away..

“Stop.”

“What?”

“Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Flirting with me with a straight face like you mean it!” You choke out, turning red.

“Because I do mean it, Y/N.” He shrugs. “I am interested in you.”

It seemed like that little date you had turned out more successful than you thought, one date led to another and another. This went on for a few months until he asked you to be his partner one night at a very random place, you usually pictured Sakusa Kiyoomi to be the smooth type     you were, after all, always the stuttering mess between you two     but when he asks you to be his officially, outside the public restroom of all places with his ear tips turning red, your reduced to a heaping pile of giggles.

With men like him, you didn’t exactly expect anything more than the dates.

You should’ve known better that he was too good to be true.

general taglist for the next part is open aye

[outoftheframework]

characterization cheat sheet: the batfamily boys

Hey everyone! I had the idea to compile a comprehensive list of different traits and attributes for each member of the batfamily based off of both canon and fanon interpretations. I think this could be useful for new members to the fandom, or those looking to write and/or draw for these characters. Remember that these will have a slight bias considering I, a fanon creator, am creating the lists. But I’ll try to make them as accurate as possible.

Appearances vary from artist to artist, so I’ll try to stray away from general details and add more little things you can consider in your art.

Bruce Wayne:

Age: 35-45

Appearance: Extremely physically fit, but signs of aging and prolonged exertion can slip through. Has a collection of scattered scars varying from fresh to fully healed. Strong, dark features. Conventionally attractive, but can easily switch to be foreboding/intimidating. Well kept in public appearances, but can look like death incarnate when in private.

Personality: Dual personas: “Bruce” (at home, but not as batman) and “Brucie” (public appearances like galas, news interviews). Bruce is stoic, well-read and educated, well-mannered, and occasionally can be witty and laid-back. Smirks rather than smiles. Brucie is loud, spontaneous, charming, and sometimes oblivious. He is the womanizer and scandal-maker. Often the actions of Brucie are motivated by Batman’s interests.

Speech: Bruce was mainly raised by as English butler, so his speech patterns are proper and smooth. Rarely uses speech fillers such as “uh” and “um,” except when interrupted while concentrating. Despite living in Gotham his entire life, he has not picked up the accent. His voice is newscaster American, almost impossible to pinpoint to a certain region. His speech as Brucie changes to relate more to the audience he is addressing. Speeches to Gotham high society will sound different than those aimed to the general public.

Additional Attributes: Bruce Wayne in all of his personalities is fiercely protective, and can easily slip into a deeper voice to intimidate. Bruce can be extremely empathetic and slightly impulsive when it comes to children who have lost their parents. As learned through his training to become Batman, Bruce is disciplined and can work for hours straight.

Dick Grayson:

Age: 23-29

Appearance: Dick Grayson mirrors a young Bruce Wayne despite their not being blood related. This could be a subconscious action by Dick to absorb traits of his father figure. His lean acrobatic body starts to set him apart from Bruce’s image. Dick manages to be well-built but still limber and flexible. His feet and hands are rough and calloused. His hair can get long but usually stays at a length in between Bruce’s and Tim’s. His eyes are bright blue without even a hint of green or brown. 

Personality: In one comic I believe it was Superman who said that Dick Grayson is a universal constant, meaning that on every alternate earth or timeline, you can always rely on him to be good and pure. I think this really sums up who Dick should be. He is kind to a fault, and can sometimes be naive and not think things through. He loves to love, be that in his family, in his romantic relationships, in his friendships, and even in strangers. He is a chronic hero who only wants to see the world as a better place. But it’s important to note that Dick can get angry when pushed, and holds grudges.

Speech: Dick is an extremely interesting study in speech patterns. As a child he traveled with the circus, until he lived with clear-spoken Bruce Wayne and a proper English butler. So influences to his speech and accent come both internationally and locally to Gotham and Bludhaven. As a child living at Wayne Manor, Dick picks up a slight Gotham tinge to his accent with some British flourish in his vowel sounds. He regularly speaks in slang. As Nightwing he is able to suppress his unique speech to sound more evenly American.

Additional Attributes: Dick acts differently around each of his family members as to be what they need in a big brother. For example, he is more fatherly to Damian while to Tim he is more an equal. Dick can fidget and has less of an attention span than Bruce. He can use jokes as a coping mechanism.

Jason Todd: 

Age: 22-26

Appearance: Hair is often long on top and shorter on the sides, sometimes with a white streak as a side effect from the Lazarus Pit. Tallest and heaviest of all the kids, very physically intimidating. Has a lot of scars and burns, and in some fan works he has a “Y” shaped scar the length of his chest from his autopsy. Never skips leg day. Green/blue eyes.

Personality: Jason goes through a lot of character development, but for this list I’m going off a timeline of post-Under the Red Hood, where Jason is on okay, yet still a little shaky, terms with the rest of the family. Jason has a hard time separating vigilante life and civilian life; his death as Robin ended his life as Jason Todd, blurring the lines between the two. Jason is legally dead, so he is basically building an identity back up. He holds some attributes from childhood: brave, impulsive, loud-mouthed, and street-smart. But his experiences post-Robin have made him a hardened loner. He lives modestly and with some semblance of order. He’s hard to foster a relationship with, but can be a passionate friend/family member when he opens up.

Speech: Jason probably has the least influence from Bruce and Alfred’s speech patterns, seeing as though he spent a lot more time with his biological family/on the streets than he did as a preteen in the manor. He is the definition of Gotham vernacular, with a rough edge. So much so that as a child, the high society gala attenders sometimes had a hard time understanding him. Often talks in curt, short sentences.

Additional Attributes: He has trouble expressing his emotions, more specifically anger and/or grief. Can both love or hate furiously. Inherently good, but sometimes does “bad” things. Protective over children, especially those living on the street. Very much a believer in “the ends justify the means.”

Tim Drake:

Age: 17-20

Appearance: Pale skin, dark hair. Sharp cheek bones and jawline, mostly from how skinny he is. His body isn’t technically “built” to be extremely athletic, but he’s forced a nice lean build from stringently working out. Easily loses and gains weight as a direct result of his work, causing fluctuations in his build. Five foot something, will eventually be out-grown by Damian. Long hair that can still be styled to look professional.

Personality: Tim Drake is very passionate in pretty much everything he sets his mind to. He feels as though he imposed himself onto Batman to become Robin, so he works twice as hard to prove his worth. He can be self conscious and deprecating. Tim as Robin or Red Robin is very different than civilian Tim; his hero personas can be bolder and more confident. Despite dropping out of high school, he values education.

Speech: Tim grew up rich, and his speech reflects an intelligence gained from private tutors. Despite this, he knows how to interact with those his age in using less formal language and slang. Often quotes books and movies. Can be awkward and stumble over his words when teased by his friends/family. He can manipulate people easily in business settings by talking fast and confidently while explaining complex topics.

Additional Attributes: Tim’s demeanor is directly tied to his varying levels of confidence and anxiety. Tim is has above-average intelligence and is diligent in detective work, but can still act like a teenager. He can be stubborn to extremes and will patiently play the long con. He does not cope well with loss.

Duke Thomas:

Age: 17-19

Appearance: Short dark hair, shaved on the sides and/or the back. Often wears the colors yellow and black. Around the same height as Tim, but a little taller. Stronger and heavier build more alike to Jason than Dick, but he’s still light on his feet. Expressive face that can give away his feelings easily. Still a bit of a baby face, but he’s still well-proportioned and conventionally handsome.

Personality: In my works, I’ve often described Duke as having a “sun-shiny” personality. He is one to not even think twice about putting others before himself. Duke uses his own personal experiences to guide him as a hero rather than suppress his emotions. Duke went from being an only child to having a large family, so he can sometimes feel overwhelmed. He is on friendly terms with every member of the batfamily, as well as many other heroes. Duke is self-sacrificial and is still learning how to effectively work as a detective.

Speech: Duke grew up in a middle class Gotham family, so his speech is influenced by his parents as well as his city environment. Duke has a mild Gotham accent and speaks a lot in modern slang. He hasn’t had much influence from Bruce and Alfred, considering he hasn’t lived with them for long. It’s possible that as he grows he will pick up some influences from Bruce and Tim’s way of speaking, but will most likely hold onto the accent of his childhood.

Additional Attributes: Duke is a metahuman vigilante in a city where Batman typically bans them, which causes a bit of an insecurity and a perfectionist drive. These are exasperated by the long line of history preceding him, as well as the fact that he involved himself in the Robin movement rather than being handpicked by Batman. He and Tim can relate in that way. Duke is an ardent student of Batman and is dedicated to the cause.

Damian Wayne:

Age: 10-14

Appearance: Looks similar to Bruce when he was the same age, yet stronger and with tanner skin. His hair is expertly cut and styled, but still age-appropriate. He is the shortest of the batkids, but still has a lot of time and potential to grow. He pretty much won the genetics lottery with Bruce and Talia as his biological parents, and is made for athletics. He has some scars that stand out with their pale coloring against his tan skin. 

Personality: Damian is slowly becoming less of a brat, to put it bluntly. He admires his family and tries to mimic them, but will never confess it. Damian is quick to judge and will voice his opinion no matter how scathing it may be, both as civilian and hero. Damian is slowly realizing he may not want the Batman mantle as quickly as he planned. Jon is a perfect foil to Damian, and often makes him a better person when they’re together. 

Speech: His speech is proper and formal. Prefers formal titles: ex. “father” over “dad” and last names over first. Damian is at least bilingual (Arabic and English), and can switch between languages easily. Most of his speech patterns developed from his tutors in the League, and more recently, Alfred. Influences like Jon and Dick have introduced him to a more modern, laid-back way of speaking, which he sometimes utilizes when relaxed.

Additional Attributes: Damian has problems with authority, especially those that he doesn’t respect like his teachers at school. He can be arrogant and childish ever though he often acts like he knows everything. Damian is still a child and has much to learn from batman and family as well as unlearn from his time at the League. Dami was forged to be a ruthless warrior, but now has to find a balance between the hero Robin and the child Damian Wayne.

Hope this helps someone! Feel free to add on if you think I missed anything. Just please remember to be civil and respect different interpretations of these characters. Let me know if you want another one of these posts outlining the girls or other characters.

[beginagainunsolved]

RYAN: This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved, we’ll be talking about the mysterious “death” of Jason Todd.

SHANE: Why is death in air quotes there?

RYAN: You’ll see.

SHANE: I love it when you get all mysterious. Really draws me in. You’ve got me on the edge of my seat here, Ryan!

RYAN: Oh, it gets edgier.

SHANE: Don’t think that works in this context, buddy.

RYAN: It does. You’ll see. This guy’s a real edgelord.

SHANE: Gross.

RYAN: Shut up. Anyway, this is actually one of our most highly requested cases. We get comments to do this one every time we post a new video, so —

SHANE: You guys can SHUT UP now. We’re DOING IT. Get off our BACKS.

RYAN: Okay, maybe don’t — maybe don’t yell at them.

SHANE: Hey, I’ll yell if I want to yell.

RYAN: Okay.

RYAN, NARRATION: Jason Peter Todd was the second ward of billionaire Bruce Wayne, adopted shortly after his first ward, Dick Grayson, was emancipated and moved away from Gotham city.

SHANE: Why is this guy always adopting kids? Can that be the next episode?

RYAN: That would be so boring. “This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved: A Billionaire is Lonely.”

SHANE: There are better ways to deal with loneliness, Ryan.

RYAN: I don’t know. He seems to like his way.

SHANE: I guess.

RYAN, NARRATION: Not much is known about Jason’s life prior to his adoption. Unlike Wayne’s previous ward, Dick Grayson, it doesn’t appear that Todd had any sort of public persona. Most reports claim he was born to a poor family and largely grew up on the streets, but it’s difficult to confirm.

SHANE: You mean you couldn’t find it on Google?

RYAN: Yeah, I couldn’t find it on Google. I typed in “Jason Todd - Street Youth?” And nothing came up, so I called it a day and got a smoothie.

SHANE: (wheeze)

RYAN, NARRATION: Most accounts of Jason’s life begin shortly after his adoption. During this time, it appears that Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne weren’t on speaking terms, at least to the general public. Shortly before Jason’s adoption, Dick stopped making public appearances and attending galas with Wayne. Many speculate that Jason’s adoption was Wayne’s attempt to fill the void left by his first ward’s departure.

SHANE: Oof.

RYAN: Yeah, oof.

SHANE: And I thought my family had drama!

RYAN: Your family has you. That’s enough drama.

SHANE: Didn’t your dad cut someone’s head off once?

RYAN: Please stop telling people that. Someone’s gonna believe you! The FBI are going to show up at his door!

SHANE: I hope they do. I hope SHIELD interrogates him.

RYAN: NO!

RYAN, NARRATION: People who knew Jason Todd in the years immediately following his adoption into the Wayne family paint the tale of a troubled young man vying for the attention of his newfound father. After his supposed death, many of Wayne’s high status acquaintances who had met the boy at galas and public events were quick to come forward with their own accounts of his demeanor and personality.

SHANE: Ryan, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again…

RYAN AND SHANE, IN UNISON: Rich people fucking suck.

SHANE: Rich people fucking suck!

RYAN: On this, we absolutely agree.

SHANE: This one thing!

RYAN: This one thing, yeah.

SHANE: Anyway. Eat the rich!

RYAN: Okay.

RYAN, NARRATION: The real mystery of Jason Todd, of course, doesn’t lie in how he became associated with Bruce Wayne. The real mystery comes from how this association ended.

SHANE: Here we go!

RYAN: Here we go.

RYAN, NARRATION: Then, in 2010, not long after his adoption into the Wayne family, Jason suddenly disappeared from the public eye. Much like Dick Grayson before him, he stopped attending galas and public events. Unlike Dick Grayson, no one seemed to know where he ended up at all.

SHANE: So this wasn’t a “I’m mad at my dad so I’m gonna crash on my buddy’s couch” type situation.

RYAN: Oh, no, definitely not. This kid seemingly vanished into thin air.

SHANE: Like Amelia Earhart! We all remember her!

RYAN: Don’t say anything about the —

SHANE: She was eaten by crabs.

RYAN: Jesus Christ.

RYAN, NARRATION: This went on for some time, with Jason out of the public eye and Bruce largely dodging questions about him when asked. Then, one day, Bruce Wayne called a press conference and made a startling revelation: Jason Todd was dead.

SHANE: Not a fun press conference.

RYAN: Not really, no. It’s — You can still watch it on YouTube. It’s bleak, man.

SHANE: Well, he’s announcing his son’s untimely death, Ryan. There’s not gonna be confetti.

RYAN: Yeah, but I mean — he pretty much just gets up on stage, makes a depressing ass announcement, and leaves right away.

SHANE: Imagine being a reporter there. Just standing out in the rain. Was it raining? I bet it was raining.

RYAN: I think it’s just, like, perpetually raining in Gotham. It’s got those kind of vibes.

SHANE: Depressing noir detective vibes, yeah. That’s why all those people dress up like bats and clowns. Nobody does that in L.A.

RYAN: No, we don’t get a lot of bats or clowns in L.A.

SHANE: We had the flame head guy! Miss him.

RYAN: He comes up in this.

SHANE: HE DOES?!?

RYAN: Spoiler alert!

SHANE: No, she lives in Gotham, too.

RYAN: Shut up.

RYAN, NARRATION: Life seemed to move on for the Wayne family after this. Jason was buried in a Gotham cemetery following a private funeral. Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne seemingly reunited. Some time down the line, Wayne adopted Tim Drake, a boy whose recently deceased parents ran in his social circles. Jason continued to be a rarely mentioned subject in any public appearances made by the Wayne family and their close associates, and any time he was brought up in interviews, journalists were categorically shut down.

SHANE: This is getting depressing, but I want to circle back around to this guy’s kid adopting addiction. Nobody should have this many orphans, Ryan.

RYAN: I mean, he’s helping them, right?

SHANE: Is he? He’s just replacing one with the next! Like a congo line!

RYAN: A congo line of — You know, I say this a lot, but this time I really mean it. You are going to get us so sued.

SHANE: It’s like the Macarena. You put an orphan in and take an orphan out.

RYAN: That’s the Hokey Pokey.

SHANE: And shake ‘em all about.

RYAN: Please stop.

RYAN, NARRATION: With most cases, this would be the end of it. A bleak end to a bleak story. But instead, this is where things get weird.

SHANE: Hooo boy. This is where the air quotes come in.

RYAN: This is where the air quotes come in!

RYAN, NARRATION: A few years after his death, Jason Todd seemingly reemerged. He was spotted leaving Wayne Manor, a few inches taller and with a new hair do.

SHANE: I’m just gonna put this out there, like, as an unofficial theory.

RYAN: Oh god.

SHANE: Are we sure this wasn’t just some other random orphan? The guy likes orphans, Ryan. He has an orphan problem.

RYAN: If it was another random orphan, it was a random orphan that looked exactly like Jason Todd.

SHANE: Wouldn’t put it past him!

RYAN: How would he even manage that?

SHANE: I don’t know! He’s rich!

RYAN: That can’t be your answer to everything shady you accuse someone of doing.

SHANE: It can, and it is.

RYAN: I really hope Buzzfeed has lawyer lined up for us. We’re gonna need so many lawyers.

SHANE: I’m sure we’ll be fine.

RYAN: (long sigh)

RYAN, NARRATION: When asked about Todd’s sudden reappearance, members of the Wayne family dodged the question just as thoroughly as they once dodged questions regarding his death. Their excuses, typically flimsy, varied from person to person with some saying the man who appeared to be Jason was actually someone else, and others saying said man didn’t exist at all.

SHANE: Pfffft. “Oh, no, there’s no man here! No man at all!”

RYAN: I actually looked up a lot of the denials, and some of them get… wild. Dick Grayson once claimed that no one ever said Jason Todd died at all.

SHANE: The press conference is on YouTube!

RYAN: He said it was a prank.

SHANE: A prank? Man, fuck this guy!

RYAN: I think he just panicked.

SHANE: He can panic more smoothly than that, at least! Have a little respect!

RYAN: (wheeze) You’re telling people about respect now?

SHANE: I’m very respectful, Ryan.

RYAN: You told a ghost to eat your ass last week!

SHANE: We’ve been over this. I don’t respect ghosts because they aren’t real. I told an empty room to eat my ass. And it did not comply.

RYAN: You accused Bruce Wayne of stealing orphans three minutes ago!

SHANE: I don’t respect rich people, either, because fuck ‘em.

RYAN: (wheeze)

RYAN, NARRATION: So, what ever happened to Jason Todd? Let’s get into the theories.

SHANE: I’m sure they’re all perfectly reasonable.

RYAN: As always.

SHANE: Oh, no.

RYAN, NARRATION: The first theory is that Jason Todd’s “death” was a coverup for a ransom attempt.

SHANE: That kind of makes sense.

RYAN: Yeah! Like, obviously Wayne wouldn’t want people to know his kid was abducted for ransom. Especially if he was going to plan on paying it.

SHANE: Well. I don’t think he’d say “yeah that kid’s dead” if he was planning on paying the ransom.

RYAN: You think he left him to die?

SHANE: RICH PEOPLE SUCK!

RYAN: God. I can taste the lawsuit.

RYAN, NARRATION: This theory is a rather straightforward one: After receiving a ransom note for his son some time after his disappearance, Wayne announced Jason’s death to cover it up and prevent the kidnappers from getting the publicity that would have made them infamous.

SHANE: Like a big ole fuck you!

RYAN: Yeah, I mean, you’d get a lot of clout for kidnapping a famous billionaire’s son. Especially in Gotham, right? Out there, it’s like… Crime is currency, almost. You build up a reputation like that, you can rule the city.

SHANE: Exactly! So by taking that away… Kind of ruins their whole thing.

RYAN: Right! And then they’ve got no use for Jason anymore and, you know, killing somebody’s a lot harder than kidnapping them, so…

SHANE: Oh, I don’t think they let him go. That kid was scrappy. He probably gave ‘em all rabies and ran.

CAMERAMAN, IN BACKGROUND: Guys. Defamation —

SHANE: Yeah, yeah, we know. Let’s move on!

RYAN, NARRATION: The next theory ties back to Jason’s alleged life before his adoption as a street kid. This theory states that Jason, like many young people in Gotham, got tangled up with some of the neighborhood’s local gangs and got in over his head.

SHANE: His sordid past as an eight year old came back to haunt him?

RYAN: Well, presumably he stayed in contact with people he knew at the time and got pulled into the gangs later.

SHANE: Nah, I want an eight year old with a shiv. He’ll shank you… but only from the waist down. Can’t reach any higher.

RYAN: (wheeze)

SHANE: Except for on you! You’re, like, the size of an eight year old. Man, he’d crush you.

RYAN: Yeah, well, you’d be fine, Gumbo. He wouldn’t be able to reach anything above your foot. You’d be like a giraffe stepping on a thumbtack.

SHANE: I keep telling you, Ryan, I am average height. You’re just abnormally short.

RYAN: Fuck you, buddy.

SHANE: Ouch.

RYAN, NARRATION: According to this theory, Jason’s death was faked in order to save his life from mobsters associated with famed Gotham gang leader Oswald Cobblepot, otherwise known as the Penguin.

SHANE: Why does everybody in Gotham have a stupid name?

RYAN: You don’t like the Penguin?

SHANE: I don’t care for it, no, but I also don’t love the name ‘Oswald Cobblepot.’ Like, that sounds ridiculous.

RYAN: Maybe that’s why he chooses to go by the Penguin.

SHANE: He should choose to go by Stan.

RYAN: Stan?

SHANE: Stan.

RYAN: No clarification there?

SHANE: I don’t believe it needs any.

RYAN: Okay.

RYAN, NARRATION: Our third theory is by far the most simple: Tired of the life of a billionaire’s son, Jason asked Bruce to fake his death in order to allow him to disappear from the public eye.

SHANE: (wheeze)

RYAN: I will admit… There are probably better ways to duck out of the public eye.

SHANE: YOU THINK?

RYAN: Like, faking my death might not be my first resort.

SHANE, IN AN EXAGGERATED IMITATION OF A CHILD’S VOICE: Oh, I’m tired of people taking my picture. Papa, will you tell them all I died a gruesome death? I’m going to Fiji!

RYAN: (wheeze)

SHANE: And then Wayne, what, just went along with it?

RYAN: Well, I guess he was due for another orphan soon anyway.

SHANE: I’m so glad you’ve warmed up to these jokes.

RYAN: I’m getting sued anyway, I might as well have fun with it.

SHANE: I am loving this development for you, Ryan!

RYAN, NARRATION: The next theory ties into a legend that some of our viewers from the Los Angeles area may be familiar with, —

SHANE: OH HELL YEAH! HERE IT COMES!

RYAN, NARRATION: — the Ghost Rider.

SHANE: (cheering)

RYAN, NARRATION: This theory states that Jason Todd’s anonymity exists to cover up his identity, and that the initial ‘death’ occured when he took up the mantle. Some believers of this theory claim that Wayne may have actually believed Todd was dead at the time, as he may have dropped off the radar entirely in order to pursue work as the Ghost Rider.

SHANE: This is my favorite one.

RYAN: I don’t think there’s any merit to it.

SHANE: Oh, absolutely not. But you’ve gotta love the theater of it!

RYAN: It does have a certain level of aesthetic appeal, yeah.

SHANE: Just some random rich kid out here with his head on fire, killing guys with crowbars.

RYAN: (wheeze) Why crowbars?

SHANE: I don’t know. Crowbars feel right here.

RYAN: That doesn’t make any sense.

SHANE: And the rest of this does?

RYAN: Good point.

RYAN, NARRATION: Perhaps supporting this theory is the fact that Ghost Rider tends to go after gangsters much like the ones Todd would have been dodging as a young man in Gotham. It also seems to tie into the rash, angry personality that many people claim he displayed. According to this theory’s supporters, Todd became fed up with the state of the city.

SHANE: And… what? Decided to light his head on fire?

RYAN: Well, maybe he was a metahuman.

SHANE: I guess that’s why he didn’t stay in Gotham. Doesn’t Batman kick them all out?

RYAN: That’s what people say, yeah.

SHANE: Man. Dick move of Batman to kick Bruce Wayne’s kid out of the city. (chuckles.) Get it? Dick?

RYAN: Oh my god.

RYAN, NARRATION: Our fifth and final theory is that Jason Todd was abducted by aliens.

SHANE: Nope.

RYAN: Don’t you at least want to hear the full theory?

SHANE: Absolutely not.

RYAN: Well, they do.

SHANE: Who is ‘they’ ?

RYAN: The people!

SHANE: They don’t want to hear your alien theories, Ryan. No one does.

RYAN: Well, it’s my video. And I’m going to tell the alien theory.

SHANE: (long sigh)

RYAN, NARRATION: This theory states that aliens, in an attempt to gain power and intel in preparation for an invasion, targeted Jason because of his close relationship with one of the richest and most prominent men in Gotham.

SHANE: So they interrogated him and then just spat him back out?

RYAN: Let me finish!

RYAN, NARRATION: According to this theory, the Jason Todd who returned after his ‘death’ was not Jason Todd at all but, rather, was an alien clone.

SHANE: I regret letting you finish.

RYAN: (wheeze) I knew you would!

RYAN, NARRATION: Believers of this theory claim it’s supported by the physical differences between the Jason Todd who disappeared and the one who lives in Gotham now, including his hair and his height.

SHANE: Or, hear me out. He grew. And he dyed his hair.

RYAN: Aliens seems more plausible to me.

SHANE: I hate you.

RYAN: (wheeze)

RYAN, NARRATION: So, what really happened to Jason Todd? Did he fall in deep with the wrong crowds and have to give up his life to find his way out? Was he kidnapped in an attempt to get money and influence from his wealthy adoptive family? Or is there something otherworldly about his disappearance and reappearance into the world? With the Wayne family refusing comments and no other sources to consult, it looks like the truth behind the scenes of Gotham’s most prestigious family will have to remain… unsolved.

WHAT UNSOLVED MYSTERY DO YOU WANT TO SEE NEXT?

[mirror-vicit-omnia]

Ya know what? F*ck it. DMC Heathers!AU where Dante is Jason Dean but never tries to blow up the school or murder anybody and the reader is Veronica.

Dante has an adoptive jackass dad, Big Blood Dean. Sparda is in hell and Eva is dead. Vergil is a missing person's case no one can solve. Big Blood Dean adopted him for the money and drags Dante all across the map with his shady deconstruction company.

The reader is in the same situation as veronica, it goes to canon. They get an in with the Heathers, there's probably a Martha involved.

Fight For Me. Just imagine Dante kicking ass. Those jocks wouldn't stand a chance in a million years.

I like the West End performance for all this.

Dante doesn't quote Baudelaire (if this was Vergil instead of Dante, yes he would have)

Reader: "Okay, don't just drop a snappy one-liner and then walk away! Excuse me? I didn't catch your name?"

Dante, all devil-may-care swagger: "Well, I didn't throw it."

If you think Jason Dean was a good fighter, you should see dante. He's always finding places to train with his sword and picking fights to keep sharp. Yep, he still has demonic powers and demonic heritage and a demonic sword.

He's been dragged to 10 different high schools. Now, Dante is the kind of guy who can just drop everything, pick up and go, if it weren't for the fact that he's adoptive dad sucks. Yeah, he's asking himself these days why he didn't just bail sooner.

He probably tried to run away when he was younger and the cops found him. Even young little Dante knew not to let anyone know about his demon heritage I guess. I don't know.

Anyway, enough logic!

The reader and Dante do not cause the death of Heather chandler. Maybe they think they did, cuz Dante still made the joke of poisoning Heather, and the mugs still got switched up, but later on after the entire world thinks Heather Chandler died a saint, the reader tells Dante that she doesn't think whatever Heather drank was what killed her.

Of course, the body is gone and so is any evidence that could have told them otherwise.

Meanwhile, Heather Duke rises in red and Kurt and Ram insist that they slept with the reader and did drugs.

Dante picks the reader up when they fall apart crying. He does set up the plan of baiting the jocks to the cemetery at dawn. But he's actually planning to knock them out and do some crazy embarrassing stuff with them, the kind of immature terror that only Young men can conceive of and inflict on one another.

Chloroform is involved. Dante packs his gun for safety. He's not a demon Hunter yet, but he knows what's out there, and there's no way he's walking into a cemetery without one weapon at least.

So, the jocks were probably going to wake up naked and tied up on a monument in the Town square or a landmark for everyone to see. It might even make the papers, since this town is so small. Dante would fleece them for their money, and encourage the reader to do the same.

"Hey, how about we divvy it up? One for you, one for me. One for you, and one, two for me- Ow! Fine, whatever, take what you want!"

But what was meant to be a life ruining prank goes horribly wrong. They got Ram, but Kurt's streaking through the graveyard in his skivvies.

Dante sprints after him. "Don't worry, I'll get him back!"

Funny. Kurt should be here. Dante knows how fast a human can run. He checks behind the tombstones, but the jock simply isn't here. Like he just disappeared.

There's a shift in the air. Dante stands still. Even for a cemetery, it's too quiet. Not peaceful. Tents. Restless. Dante's just trotting back when he knows. The reader feels something, too, that pricking in the hind brain that sets the hairs standing. Dante flicks back the red tails of his duster and pulls out his gun.

Reader: "Woah! Are those guns real?!"

Dante flexes his bicep: "'Course they are, babe!"

Reader: "No! I mean th-!"

Bang! A murder of crows take to the air. The only thing more unnerving than the mist and the gunshot is the cold hard gleam in Dante's eye.

And something in the tombstones growls.

Basically, there's probably some small hellgate in the area. Weak demons are leaking through.

The plot turns away from Heather's and fake suicides and mental illness into an '80s horror slasher flick in which Dante and the reader survive and work together to break the hell gate. Dante's dad might end up dead in the process, not by his hands but just because. Alternatively, Dante decides that he's turning 18 in a couple of months and soon the law won't be able to chase after him. He doesn't know what he's going to do with his life, but he sure as hell isn't letting big blood Dean drag him anywhere anymore.

Either way, it's implied that Dante finds his calling through this story.

And becomes a demon hunter.

Demons might have been possessing people or killing people and making it look like suicides so they can drain the humans of their blood when they're brought to the morgue. A bunch of lesser demons serving a relatively stronger demon.

It serves a similar effect as the sensationalization of fake suicides in the musical's plot. Only now the reader forged the suicide notes and set up the fake suicides in order to protect them both. There's no way the law was going to buy the truth.

The reader still has to deal with Heather duke, Heather mcnamara, the horrors of the hierarchy of the high school. They deal with Miss Fleming and the assembly. Is Heather McNamara from actually committing suicide, but then there's still a demon attack that they have to somehow protect both of them from. And this is taking place in the '80s, so there are no cell phones and the landline is cut.

The hellgate was dormant under the boiler room in the high school.

If Dante got possessed, we could still have some Dead Girl Walking (Reprise) and the reader shoots him but it's Dante so he survives!

Whatever was possessing him was nowhere near as good at fighting as a human.

Cherry flavored slushies. Dante drinks cherry flavored slushies, and when he sings I thought emotional part where he accidentally reveals thoughts of suicide, he tries to brush it off with humor, as always.

Still our favorite chaotic half demon.

Cherry flavored slurpees and pizza and teenage detective work that dpuble as dates. Dante doesn't give a s*** and just wants to be pointed in the direction of the fight. The reader is actually doing research and carefully trying to piece together what is going on. Dante provides whatever he knows on demons. And hell.

Dante: "Yeah, my dad is the legendary demon Sparda. My mom and brother died in a demon attack on our house and that's why I'm in foster care."

Reader: "Okay... Sounds fake, but okay..."

Dante gets shot right in the chest. Reader freaks out, but still manages to blow up the hell gate with a bomb and thermals. To collapse the whole gymnasium, which is empty.

They crawl out of the dust. Shaking, a lot to process all at once.

Then there's a whistle. And impressed whistle. The reader looks up. It's Dante, standing strong and straight and waving at dust like he's not squirting blood out of the hole in his chest. "Now, that was some fireworks! Remind me to invite you to my next birthday party."

And that was when the reader believed that he was actually half demon.

Plot twist a faculty member opened the hell gate and it's Miss Fleming the hippie.

I wanted to feel more 80s than it sounds here, and other than that that's all I've got.

Edit 8/20/21

The reader wears the blue Heathers uniform. Short grey skirt and all.

Or if you don't like skirts, then trousers. Tight, flattering trousers. Dante loves to watch how they pull in all the right places.

The two of you are hanging out upstairs in his room, talking about the deaths. The read is worried, fretting over the mystery, flipping through pages in their notebook; Dante sprawls next to them, half hanging off the bed, head in their lap, yawning. The front door opens and bangs shut. Dante springs out of his seat. Suddenly, he wants to get out if the house.

"Hey, do you want some ice cream? Dairy Queen, strawberry sundae, you and me. C'mon!"

Big Blood Dean stomps upstairs. "Dante! Get yer worthless ass in gear! We gotta a job, you gotta go on a supply run-"

Dean barges right on in. Looks at Dante. Looks at the reader. "You got company."

"S'there a problem?" Dante sounds cool. Too cool. He's on his feet and wandering about the room, like he's bored. The reader tenses. Dean is huge, but he somehow looms beyond his size.

Dante does his careless waltz. The reader can't take their eyes off Dean. Like a frightened animal. How can Dante expose his back like that?!

But by getting up, he's put himself between you and his adoptive parent.

"Get rid of them," orders Dean.

Shrugging, Dante pats your knee. "Alright, c'mon, babe." He leads you by the elbow to the window. You still keep an eye on Dean. He's glaring.

Dante throws open the window and bows. "After you!"

"Um, the front door is...?"

He's not serious.

"Go on!"

He's serious.

Hesitant, you stick a leg through and let him push you the rest of the way out. Then he slips out, too

"You come back here, boy-!"

"See ya, old man!" Dante slams the window shut.

"Is he going to lock you out?" You ask as you shimmy down the drain pipe.

"He can't. You broke my window lock."

Dante buys two Sundaes because he doesn't want to share; after he polishes off his, he's snatching bites of yours.

He used the "Nevada account."

(Update 9-20-21)

And this whole story would be even better with JD!Virgil instead.

Virgil didn't have time yet to harden from the demon attack before Big Blood Dean adopted him.

This is all much the same as with JD!Dante, except that Virgil gets darker (not that Veronica!Reader knows how bad it is; they didn't accidentally murder Heather together) carries a gun and everything.

In the big final fight, Virgil runs out of ammo. Demons have cornered him. It's the house, his Mom, Dante, all over again.

One blink later, the demons are all dead, slashed open. Virgil shakes as he yanks on the handle in his grip, and pulls out the blade from a soft belly.

Yamato. How did it get here? These demons are unrecognizable, like dead carrion at a butchers. Did I do this? He thinks, distant and fuzzy, as he watches his hands like watching a film as they flip his sword.

Humans are weak. Humans are wretched.

The reader's smile passes through his mind.

... Perhaps not all humans are... Deserving of death.

They're just weak. Virgil flicks gore off the sword, and heads to his house, looking for Big Blood Dean.

He didn't like the way Dean had scared you with the "Norwegian in the Boiler Room" talk, anyway.

(Spoilers: Dean doesn't live. And Virgil loves you, but this was mostly for him. It's the tipping point, and afterwards he chooses his demonic heritage over humanity. But less "kill them all" and more "purge those who dare cross our path- but don't tell Reader, they get upset easily." What they don't know can't hurt them- and you have Virgil to thank.)

You two definitely run away together at the end. Off to explore knowledge of demons and Hell and whatever else.

You want to seal off the Hellgates that are being all over the world.

Virgil wants to level-grind.

It's couples-time, really.

[obeymeluv]

Random Headcanons for the Bros (SFW + NSFW)

I’m bored and was thinking about the more ‘demon’ noises they’d make. It turned into a bunch of random headcanons (SFW + NSFW).

Enjoy!

These got really long so I skipped Belphie for now. I was getting sleepy and I need more time to think up some headcanons for him.

I think I caught all the spelling errors but I’m not sure. Super sleepy...

Lucifer

His ‘angry’ demon noise sounds a lot like the ones koalas make. It’s not an especially deep or rugged noise, like a lion, but this simmering mess of hisses and clicks with a bit of air in it.

Tends to keep his mouth closed and tongue fluffed when making the noise so it sounds more subdued/reptilian

Lucifer’s horns are very sensitive. Mammon found that out at an early age. His beloved could use this to their advantage, but it does bring the teeth.

Would deny to his last breath that he likes head massages or temple rubs. If you can manage, give the guy a shoulder rub and he’s putty in your hands. Won’t even speak. Might make a clicky purr sound though.

When he doesn’t want you to leave or could really use another minute with head scratches, his tail will wrap around your wrist and hold it in place.

When you share a bed, he’s not a snuggler. Lucifer’s the type to be content knowing you’re in the same space. He moves in his sleep, though, so you always end up a little spoon

Asmo says he has a size kink, but he’s not sure. Lucifer will begrudgingly admit he likes power dynamics. There’s something thrilling about grabbing you by the throat, as delicate as you are, but being so gentle with you.

He’s not the most aggressive biter in bed, but he will use his teeth and claws for the sensation. Lucifer’s big on anticipation and overstimulation

Weak for neck kisses, especially at his pulse. Attack! He WILL get even though, so beware.

Doesn’t openly think he has any clothing-related kinks, but he’ll stare a bit longer if you dress up in red or black.

Would never do it in front of his brothers because of the teasing, but very much the ‘come sit in my lap’ type.

His pride won’t let him allow any public fun times, not even the fear of getting caught, but he does get off on flustering you and watching you pull yourself back together before anyone catches on

The ‘lots of strong, long kisses’ kind of guy. Not big on French kissing unless he has time to indulge and knows he won’t be interrupted

Runs very hot when he sleeps. He prefers to be shirtless so cold sheets take the edge off.

You’ll come before he does. It’s a matter of pride, after all.

His love language is helping you get organized (if you’re not), and tracking down resources to things you’re interested in because that’s within his skill set. Also good at creating absolute silence for you if you have a migraine.

If Lucifer makes a pact with you, it’ll be around your heart because it takes a lot of self-sacrifice to do. He’s TRUSTING you.

Mammon

Mammon sounds like an angry tortoise when he’s woken up too early, when he’s embarrassed (or in denial), or telling one of his little brothers to shut up without saying it

I head cannon that he actually needs the glasses he wears. Or that he has contacts and just wanted yellow frames because yellow is the color of Grimm

It crossed my mind that he might wear them just so he can see everything as golden and beautiful because he remembers the Celestial Realms and misses it

He says he stays with you because Lucifer assigned him, but once you connect with him on ANY level (say something nice, defend him, just give him attention instead of suspicion), he’s 100% whipped. Wants to be with you all the time and chase that feeling you give him. He needs more of it. Has to have it!

Mammon’s a sucker for getting his hair played with. Run your fingers through it, play with the ends, and you could probably rob him blind

Will also pester you for back massages because he jacks up his back running from Lucifer all the time (and trying to run off with heavy shit to pawn)

Is really good with math, has bad impulse control, and gets very distractable. Would probably surprise a few of his brothers with his math mark is and the fact that he could tutor if he stays in the right mindset. 

He’s the sloppy/needy kisser that has to be as close as he can. He’ll end up between your thighs and somehow surround you.

Big on little butterfly kisses.

He’s not a full-on biter, but he’s a nibbler. He’s a hickey expert and he wants them to be seen.

Actually super easy to turn on. If you take his glasses off and get close enough to see him, he’s hard because you rubbed up on him coming into view. Also: praise him. IT WORKS!

The Avatar of Greed probably has a breeding kink. Just saying.

Might complain about it, but he’ll give you piggyback rides and carry you if you ask. Literally, all you have to do is ask.

You can’t do the whole ‘laying in nothing but my earrings’ because he’ll either take your earrings out before sex to look at them (very much an ‘oh, shiny!’ person), teeth them during sex and break them, or he’ll think you look so good he’ll want to pile on ALL the jewelry.

Steal his clothes to wear them? He’ll lowkey cry. YOU LOOK SO CUTE, ALMOST AS GREAT AS THE GREAT MAMMON!

Prefers to be the little spoon, but honestly if you fall asleep with him you guys end up tangled up together. Usually face-to-chest, but some kind of tangled up together

Can’t always keep up the dirty talk in bed because he gets so sappy, but he’s big on soft touches, hickies, and needing praise if you want him to go harder/faster when he’s in his gentle moods

Will fight Belphie for King of Lap Naps. Mammon would monetize your nappin’ thighs but then he’d have to share them and that just seems like a bad business idea.

Main fantasy? You begging. Beg for him to do anything and you’re occupied for the next few hours.

Has a bit of a smart mouth so he’ll also get into banter with you and if you get the last word, he’s super embarrassed, proud, and give him a consolation kiss or something, huh?

Helpless when you initiate it because SHIT that was bold and he can’t believed it worked! All you have to do is say his name, look him in the eyes, then his lips, and kiss him. If you think you’re walking away, you don’t make it far.

The type to con you into a quickie in the closet our just out of view/hearing of the others.

The type to write checks his mouth can’t cash 85% of the time. Call his bluff. If he invites you into the bath, do it. Walk in naked. You might have to save him from drowning. 

Leviathan

Levi’s angry noises sound like bearded dragon hisses. Those hisses are used for warning, frustration, and when he does the uncomfortable prickle of awkwardness. When he disagrees or is bashful, they get a warble/chatter to them.

I headcanon that they can also take on their demon form when they feel threatened, as it puts out an aura and makes them more defensive. Levi can transform the easiest due to him feel uncomfortable and not being the most sociable.

When he’s in demon form, his tail will either wrap around him for comfort or will go over to the person he most trusts to comfort him. He tends not to consciously want to touch Lucifer with his tail, but there’s something instinctual about going to the oldest brother. He usually goes to Satan or you (if you’ve reached that type of intimacy)

You would think a guy that shamelessly plays a lot of otome games and uses them as social guides (even though they’re far from perfect) wouldn’t be so susceptible to a peek of skin or nudity, but LEVI IS WEAK!

That whole ‘shirt rides up getting a library book’ thing? He’s dead.

The biggest virgin, basically. Boy’s got a strong imagination and he’s sensitive from the whole ‘gross otaku’ complex.

His biggest fantasy? Water play. He wants to be the big, scary monster who grabs a tasty, tiny human and has his wicked (totally consensual) way.

One of the more adventurous bros because he’s seen a lot of stuff in anime and wants to know if it would really work.

Will definitely ask for a blow job. It’s the shortest blow job ever but he loved it.

Is weak for any kind of kiss so have at it! Especially likes kisses on the mouth, shoulder kisses (because that means cuddling!), and kisses on his chest or belly.

The type to get addicted to sex once he has it, but not helplessly so. He won’t say no if you ask.

Is too embarrassed to ask you to wear some of his clothes so he just kind of leaves them in your room and waits to see if you wear it. If you don’t, he buys you matching clothes so you HAVE to.

Once you’re dating, you’re his good luck charm. No ifs, ands, or buts! He NEEDS you for game night, even if you fall asleep in his arms, okay?

After getting used to the idea of giving you affection and understanding your boundaries, he’s dropping a forehead kiss 24/7.

He hisses more than his brothers, and his tongue can do some tricks the other bros can’t. He’s WAY better than those other dumb humans, too.

You’re one of the only people who can pull him out of his room. He becomes aware that you get him out for exercise (or because Lucifer asks) but if he leaves the House of Lamentation and has you to himself, he won’t complain.

Satan

Cougar noises--the chuffs, the growls, the yeowls, all of it. He is big angry kitty boy

He’s afraid of losing his temper but he’s got a ridiculously tight grip on the reins. You wouldn’t think he’s the Avatar of Wrath until one of his brothers set him off.

His love language is gentle pets, a good book, and a cup of tea. He’s your guard when you don’t want to deal with the outside world. Because Satan’s super logical and admires detectives, his love language is also helping you solve your problems. He just conveniently shows up with something that helps (because he’s been listening and is a background type).

Is emotionally keen, perhaps because his cardinal sin is wrath and he can be sensitive. He has a radar for you and it calls him like a moth to a flame.

Want to seduce him? Read to him. It’s that easy. Share your favorite quotes.

Or just take a cheap shot and do something with cats. He may enlist you to smuggle Hellcats into the House of Lamentation since Lucifer can’t do anything to the precious exchange student. Being its ‘parents’ will bring you close.

Doesn’t like mornings but forces himself to be a morning person. HIGHLY enjoys it if you’re not because it’s so nice to see you go through all the stages of discontent before resigning yourself to getting up and starting the day

He’s not easy to fluster, but he’s the ‘tried and true’ when it comes to getting bothered. If you find something that works, file it away because it will ALWAYS work.

If you fluster him, he has to make it even. It’s the only way he’ll feel good about his weakness. Much prefers if you’re worse off than he is, actually, because there’s something delicious about it

A bit of a sadist. Prefers drawn-out pleasure and taking you for all that you can give

Loves to catch you with that studded tail and keep you in place. Very much likes to drag you back to him. That looks pretty, too.

HIS TAIL IS SENSITIVE. TOUCH IT. PET IT. HIS IQ DROPS TO THE SINGLE DIGITS.

Doesn’t know what to call his kinks, but the idea of restraining you is a nice one. Likes the positions where he has to hold you against him or in place, or can move parts of you to better fit with him. Big on taking you from behind.

Doesn’t care if he’s the big spoon or the little spoon. Just wants to make sure you’re there with him.

Has a fantasy about you serving him tea naked in his room.

Big on biting, and is usually embarrassed about the marks the next day

The type to let you throw your legs over his lap and read in contented silence with you, occasionally massaging your leg

Boy likes legs. Show ‘em off.

Interrupt intense studying sessions (because he over-studies and studies WAY TOO EARLY FOR TESTS) with snuggly pop quizzes (”Who’s cute? A) You, B) The Avatar of Wrath, C) Satan, or D) All of the Above”) because he lives for it.

Cheeky and unexpectedly playful. Will wake you up with tickling or tracing. If you are romantically involved, he’s definitely woken you up with a squeeze or kiss at least once

If you’re in a pact with him, it shows up on your thigh or hip.

Very proficient with magic. Has probably found a way to bring it into the bedroom.

Asmodeus

The cuddliest boy

His angrier noises tend to sound like a giant salamander but his cute flirty/chirpy noises sound like a toy gecko.

I headcanon that Asmodeus became part incubus when he fell to Devildom, or that he ended up with some of those traits once he became the Avatar of Lust

He can feed off the various types of love emotions (genuine love, sweet crush love, jealous love, sex, etc.) but it doesn’t fill him up as much as hunting humans or other demons. It’s just something he can feed off of more frequently so it keeps hunger at bay.

Will pamper his crush or someone he holds dear because that’s bonding. He wants SOMEONE to understand the lengths he goes through to be beautiful! It’s a process! Respect him!

The biggest hype boyfriend ever. Will take your confidence to new levels and show you that you can rock anything

Epitome of ‘looks like a cinnamon roll but could actually kill you’ trope

Are you having a play date with makeup? Turn those lipstick swatches into lipstick kisses and he’s got to stop and recollect himself. His little heart’s going so fast!

Glows when you praise him. It could be something he’s heard for centuries but somehow you say it better than anyone ever has.

When he’s feeling extra affectionate and just really loves you, his eyes will be a pinky-red.

Wants to be babied. Please kiss him.

100% down for soft cuddles and luxurious touches. Long days spent in bed and slow, dream-like sex.

Doesn’t really like his hair messed with because he works on it a lot.

Touch his arms, his back, and his chest and he’s all yours.

Will kiss you anywhere, but his favorite place to kiss you when you’re cuddling is on the inside of your wrist

Prefers to be the little spoon.

The skin on his shoulders can dry out when he takes on his demon form. Something about the texture of demon wings dries them out really bad. Put lotion on him and he’s singing your praises.

Gets you into the most exclusive places and plans the best shopping days. Your off days will be the envy of everyone in the Devildom!

Asmodeus is very perceptive when it comes to his love, and very receptive in terms of sex. It feels like the world’s longest questionnaire before you have sex, but he needs to be ABSOLUTELY clear about your experience, comfort, what you like, and what you don’t.

Probably gets off first because the act of having sex is very heady and strong. It’s a massive energy boost at once. It’s the second-best type of feed he can get and makes him feel drunk/light-headed.

Definitely makes up for it. You probably won’t be able to walk afterwards.

Big on PDA around others. Holding hands and matching nails!

When Asmodeus makes a pact with you, it shows up in aesthetic places like your shoulder, your wrist, your ankle, or above your chest.

Is big on receiving praise but not as big as Mammon

Sex with him can be rough and hard, sweet and gentle, and everything in between. Is very likely to mess up your clothes because he has a hard time controlling his claws when he’s in the moment but you can wear his clothes. It’s fine.

Will give you hickies. Loves the colors they take on your skin.

If he’s helping you get ready for an event, all that pretty makeup might get messed up when he takes you against the vanity. He can’t help it!

10/10 the best, most supportive boyfriend. A sweetheart with claws.

Beelzebub

Sweetest boy. The one that has good intentions even if things don’t go to plan

Very loyal. He’s neutral to everyone when they first meet him, but he’ll quickly pick favorites or befriend someone if his intuition says he should.

Beel’s a pretty good people-reader. Maybe it comes from being an older twin, but he knows a bad heart when he sees it

Is very empathetic and can get really upset for his hungry fury. It’s hard to shake but if you’re gentle/persistent, you’ll get a smile.

If you get some tears, just hold him and tell him it’s okay. You know it’s hard to control.

Also on team ‘play with my hair’

He’s a sucker for kisses around his ear, the base of his throat, AND HIS STOMACH. KISS THAT TUMMY!

Forgets that he’s built very differently than you and is honestly amused by how awe-struck you get with his muscles.

Squeeze his bicep. It makes him blush.

Quiet fawning over his muscles really warms his heart. Just praise him, kiss him, and run your fingers over his chest and you’ll get the good, deep rumbly polar bear purr.

Beel has deep, rolling demon noises. It’s something about how tall and wide he is that makes the reverb shake deep in your bones no matter how gentle it is

Will think the stars of you if he catches you looking after his family.

His heart skips a beat and his face goes super red if you pack him snacks with little notes on them

Is 100% down for food dates.

Loves carrying you. He’s nice and helpful and when you start dating, he just loves having his tiny human close.

Has to learn to temper his strength when you start dating because he tried to be cute and scoop you up but almost threw you into the ceiling

Very gentle bear hugs from very gentle Beel

Prefers you to climb on him when you want to cuddle that way he doesn’t accidentally hurt you. Loves to feel you struggling to climb on his back.

Likes to snuggle your arms when they’re wrapped around his neck (especially when you’re getting a piggyback). Absently rubs your thighs/knees because they’re in his hands.

Lots of absentminded but heartfelt kisses because you smell good and he loves you. He just wants to kiss you, not taste you! (”One more, please?”)

Has a size kink. He’s a big boy so you’re probably smaller by default and you’re just easy to pick up and hold and--boy’s going to bust a nut just getting you into position

Big into oral because you smell good and taste good and he could eat you for HOURS. He has the strength and stamina, trust me.

Has the best jawline of the bros because he’s always working his mouth muscles.

Tends to take you from behind just to minimize the height difference but he’s also had sex in the kitchen, in his bed, and is coming around the idea of you being on top of him.

Won’t leave hickies but he’s the suckling type. Most likely to leave fingerprints/handprints

Heavy post-cuddler.

If you feed him (even jokingly) after sex, he’s going to immediately roll over and want to go again.

You love him enough to feed him and he just loves you and--?!!

If you cook him anything, he’ll definitely give his compliments to the chef

Always buys you cute aprons and things to wear in the kitchen. Has a matching set even if it doesn’t fit him very well.

If you make a trip to the human world, please come back with a bunch of cheeseburgers for your baby. He’ll love you forever (even though he already does).

Loves to cuddle. If you rest your head on him, he puts his arm around you and pull you in close. He’ll initiate the ‘in lap cuddling’.

Is surprisingly good at potions because he’s familiar with the ingredients and can tell if you’re on the right track based on how it smells.

Loves to feed you. Won’t say no to being fed. Didn’t know he had a finger kissing/sucking kink until he was being careful with a bite of food and somehow still got your finger (no damage though).

When you make a pact with Beelzebub, it shows up on your stomach.  

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Friday Night Stabby best quotes part 27 (23/07/21)

Pearl has replaced Joker for this session. Grian also played for a while despite it being 3am his time.

…

Tango: Mrs T, are you good? Are you good? Mrs Tango: I was talking to people, I’m sorry. What do I need? Impulse: You need to get ready to stab some people in the face.

...

*Grian has altered his outfit and accessories to match Etho’s, complete with blue colour* Grian: I’m also Etho. Brody: It looks like it. Tango: Oooh! Look at that! Etho: Ohh, you’re looking good, actually. Grian: I’m off-brand Etho. Brody: Hold on. *pause* Etho: Oh no, no. Don’t, Brody. Brody, deadpan: What are you talking about? I don’t know what you’re talking about. *Brody has also put on Etho’s outfit, making 3 blue-coloured characters with the green alien and lab coat* Grian: Well that’s just copying.

...

(due to technical issues, the crew had to go back to vanilla Among Us. in the process, Grian managed to nab the cyan colour from Etho and now looks exactly like Etho usually does)

*votes are revealed, everyone skipped except Grian who voted for Etho* Grian: *laughs* Etho: Oh come on! What? We were together the entire time, Grian! Grian, still laughing: I know. Etho: Now that’s just spiteful.

...

*Grian runs up to the top reactor panel* Impulse: I got the bottom [reactor panel]. Etho, running down to join him: Etho powers! Oh. Impulse stole it. Okay. Grian: Did you just call me Etho?

...

Grian: Alls I wanna say is Tango was running at me really hard, like- Tango: I was going to weapons. Grian: He had his head down and he was sprinting, saying nothing. He had vengeance in his heart. Tango: Watch as I modify my speed, yes. Grian: Just saying. He didn’t say anything, not a friendly hello. And I know Tango; he is a fan of friendly hellos. I’m just saying, this is really suspicious. Tango: Not when I’m tryina kill you, I’m not gonna give you a hello.

...

(Grian has changed his skin back now to the lighter red with a balloon accessory, Etho is back to normal)

Brody: Did you say Grian intentionally talked to you? Endless: No, he was ignoring me. Brody: Oh well that checks out.

...

*after Impulse framed Endless for Grian’s murder but got voted out the next round* Endless, dead: I hate you for getting away with that, Impulse. Impulse: *laughs* Endless: I hate you for other reasons too but I hate you for that especially. Impulse: I can’t believe they believed me.

...

Grian: *reports Skizz’s body* Grian: So this is pretty clear-cut. Evil, do you wanna- I’ll let you defend yourself before I tell everyone what happened. Evil: I would like to hear what story you’ve got to come up with, Grian. Grian: Alright, well, it’s as simple as I went into electrical and you were walking right out past the body. Pearl: But this happened, like, literally 1-2 seconds ago cuz I just walked away from Skizz. Grian: Yeah, I caught him killing [Skizz]. Impulse: Was he cleaning his knife off, by chance? Grian: He had it in his beak, shaking it side to side. Impulse, laughing: That’ll do it! *pause* Tango: Evil? Defence? Evil: I was… *pause* Grian: …killing someone? *long pause* Evil: You told the story perfectly.

...

Brody: Impulse is laughing. I don’t trust it. Impulse: You shouldn’t :)

...

Grian, whispering: Guys. It was Etho. Brody: Grian thinks it’s you. Grian, whispering: Grian KNOWS it’s you. Brody: KNOWS it’s you. *pause* Etho: That’s fine, you can vote me. See what happens. Impulse: If we vote Etho off, it’s gonna be really fun trying to figure out who it is after, cuz I got sus on nobody other than Etho. Brody: Okay. You said fun and I like fun. *votes* There you go. Impulse: Mmhmm! Let’s go for fun! *pause as everyone starts to vote* Grian: It might be Impulse, guys. Impulse: Yay for fun! Let’s go, Mrs Tango! Yay for fun! Mrs Tango: I did fun. *Etho is unanimously voted out* Brody: Etho! Why did you vote for yourself? Mrs Tango: Peer pressure.

...

Evil: I thought I was safe! I kill and I go to run out and here comes Grian and I’m like “son of a gun…” Astro: He must have a camera in that balloon or something. He can see everything. Impulse: Detective Grian! Check out his second channel.

...

Etho: So what makes you think I came from the left, Grian? Grian: I- Stop gaslighting me! It’s 4am, I might actually be wrong!

...

Endless: Brody’s got too many hats on. Brody: No, this is just the right amount of hats. Endless: It’s too many hats, sir. Brody: Don’t tell me how to live my life. You’re not my real dad.

...

Endless: Miss you, Astro. Evil: Did you miss him with your knife? Endless: I was standing right next to you in electrical!

...

Etho: I’ve got my eye on Balloon Boy a bit. Grian: You’ve always got your eye on Balloon Boy.

...

*everyone skipped except Endless, who voted for Grian* Grian: Endless! Why? Brody, to Etho: You convinced Endless. Impulse: Don’t worry about Endless, sometimes he just… you know.

...

Endless: I’m voting for Grian. Grian: What?! Wait wait wait wait wait, why are you voting for me? *long pause* Endless: You don’t know. Alright, let’s go. Grian: There’s literally nothing! Impulse: Welcome to Endless, Grian. This is Endless; don’t worry about it.

...

(Grian leaves the group)

*body is reported* Tango: Etho, where’d you just come from? *pause* Etho: I dunno. Tango: Mkay.

...

Endless: Pearl mocked me for saying ‘gas’ instead of ‘petrol’ so I’m voting for her.

...

Evil: Etho, are you feeling okay, buddy? Etho: I’m fine. It’s the rest of you that are crazy.

...

Astro: Okay so let’s vote for Mrs Tango because she blatantly came right in, killed Endless, and then jumped in the vent. Etho: Mrs Tango, you got a defence? Mrs Tango: Can you blame me? Etho: Good defence.

...

Brody: Hey, guess what? Endless wasn’t an imposter. Tango: Oh. We should vote him out anyways.

...

Skizz: That was VERY well done, Impulse. Impulse: Not well done enough, apparently. Skizz: No, it wasn’t good enough. But only because you’re not good enough. Impulse: HEY!

...

Astro, chasing Endless round the lobby: I’m sorry, Endless. Sorry, Endless. Endless: No, there’s no sorry! Killed first? We couldn’t just- We couldn’t just go aside and talk about it for a few minutes and then just let me not report you? I would’ve let you have that but you killed me first, dude! Astro: *laughs*

...

Brody: Tango seems like the kind of person who would kill Endless first. Tango: *laughs loudly* Ah, man. I hate you.

...

*Endless is the only person to have not gotten imposter the whole night* Endless: I love each and every one of you but this game is the stupidest game I’ve ever played in my life.

[dtccompendium]

Episode 148: The Streetcar's Sudden Stopping Case

The most TV original of all TV originals. The detective boys drag Conan to Beika Land. On the way, a creepy photography group shows up. One of them decides to leave the tram to take pictures, but as the tram reaches him, he suddenly falls off a ladder, forcing them to make an emergency stop. They go outside to make sure he’s okay, and when they return, they find his friend dead in the back of the tram. The police arrive, and the inspector is an idiot who you never see again. The culprit was their photography girl friend, because the victim was going to marry her, but then he decided to marry someone in Germany.

Best Quotes:

The Detective Boys: “What’s wrong?”

Conan: “This person..…he no longer breaths.”

[theogygiaisland]

You Are Dead

Characters: Tim Drake & Jason Todd

Warnings: Teen (13+)

Universe: Batman (All Media Types)

Words: 1,292

Jason just wants to shoot Tim.

--

Jason has been watching him for the last few laps of his patrol route now, and Tim, as much as he’s smart, was not the only one who’s been raised by a detective. The little lithe body has been bouncing on rooftops in a circular route for the past hour and Jason’s pretty sure which direction the boy would be taking after this lap.

Normally, he wouldn’t mind the little bird. But he was on a mission to eliminate the bats and get to their base of operations. Tonight, he promised himself that he will have his little fun.

The rest of the bat brats were on kind of good terms with the Red Hood while he and the big bad Bat still had a little strained relationship. He wouldn’t even be there, gun ready and perched in the shadow of a fire escape if the man was out tonight and good thing he isn’t

The little birdy always starts/ends his lap on the particular rooftop of the said fire escape.

Little fun indeed.

Red Robin swung wide, landing on the ledge of the structure and triggering the grapple to unhook before he’s off again, but Hood already had his gun trained on the younger boy. He steps out of the shadow just enough for the boy to see him

“Hey there Timmy-boy, long time no see.”

Red Hood pointed his gun next to the domino mask and Red Robin cursed as he tried to evade and reached for something on his back. The action made Jason laugh, they both knew he didn’t have a batarangs on this mission and Jason is far too fast for him to activate his bo staff. Tim will not be able to get away this time. Not with Red Hood’s aim and reflex.

“Let’s talk this out Hood.” Red Robin tried to say, hands up in surrender. But Jason can’t keep the manic smile off his face.

“Nope!” The older man said cheerily, pulling his trigger and effectively planting a bullet on the younger’s chest. “You. Are. Dead.”

Red splatters on Red Robin’s chest, but Jason shoots one more round for good measure.

“That’s a double tap, if the bullet to the lungs doesn’t kill you, the one to your heart will.” Jason said in a sing-song voice. But the younger man was already crumpled on his back. His domino mask was lifeless and his face was slack.

Jason merely rolled his eyes at the scene in front of him and lightly kicked the younger man’s leg. He looked as dead as a doorknob.

“Fucking drama queen.”

Jason turned around to leave but was stopped by a beeping sound next to the post he was taking shelter in. The shrill tune barely registers in his brain before--

SPLAT!

“SHIT!”

Blue paint spreads to the front of his chest armour and helmet, making it impossible to see. He knew if it were a real bomb, his front (and brains) would’ve been blown right off. Laughter erupted on the rooftop and the body on the ground convulsed with glee.

“You are dead!” Tim said in the same sing-song voice as he rose to his feet.

Capture the Flag (minus lethal weapons)™ was actually supposed to be a fun and family bonding time Dick managed to rope everyone into, but Jason just uses it as a reason to shoot his siblings without repercussions. And to be honest, it was fun, but he’s not gonna tell that to Dick.

It mainly consisted of the Gotham Crew with special guests of any available Birds of Prey or Black Bat, and they switched weapons to ones which splashed paint to replicate injuries incurred. Any paint splatters large enough to be considered life-threatening meant you’re out of the game. The game would only end if either the other team physically hacked into a command panel the opposing team was guarding, or if no one was left of the other team. Jason usually likes the latter of the two options, but they have yet to have a game that ended that way and not for the lack of trying.

The “flag” usually was some stupid quote you have to save into your gauntlet after decrypting the device, and crossed your team’s side of Lincoln Avenue. Duke still groans about the time he had to transfer the entire lyrics of ‘Baby Shark’ as his ‘flag’ courtesy of Cass and the next time Jason guarded Spoiler in another game, he saw the quote merely said ‘People like grapes’ (Tim’s, probably).

He liked to think the randomness was to keep them on their toes, but then again it probably was so that a family of detectives wouldn’t just guess the actual quote before the game started. That or his family is fucking weird.

Oracle would referee and encrypt both command panels (because of obvious reasons) and Batman isn’t allowed to participate (because of obvious reasons).

Jason growled menacingly as he fingered the latch on his helmet to remove it. He was grateful for the domino mask underneath so he doesn’t have to be partially blinded for the night. “Baby bird, what the fuck did we say about fucking suicide strategies.”

“It’s mutually assured destruction!” Tim laughed as he leaned on a support beam. He was rubbing the paint off the ‘Red Robin’ symbol on his chest. “Besides, I knew either you or baby brat would be tracking my tail, it was easy to change my route every now and then but still lead to this particular rooftop for ambush. Perfect plan for me to be quite honest.”

“We play for fun, baby bird. Not mind games!”

“Capture the flag involves strategy!”

“Strategy to live AND capture the opposing team’s flag idiot, not go kamikazeeing!”

“Well it’s fun for me! Besides, taking one of the strong hitters down was the plan, I was just hoping you weren’t, y’know, actually gonna shoot me right away. I guess the bombing could’ve been timed better.”

And if Jason really thought about it, he would’ve realized that he was in the perfect spot to be hit in the back with the blue paint. If he didn’t have such a trigger happy finger, little bird’s plan might’ve actually worked.

So it was a good thing Jason didn’t want to think about it.

“So you used yourself as bait to get me or the gremlin out?” Tim shrugged, as if he wasn’t fully listening. He was too busy rubbing his gear out of the red paint.

Jason rolled his eyes at the aloofness and pressed a finger to the comms in his ear. “Red Hood and Red Robin are down.”

It was met with a collective groan in his ear.

“Only the Reds are dumb enough to end this early!” Steph said.

“Way to get their strategist tho.” Duke.

There was a soft clicking noise that could only be Damien.

“How’d he do it?” Dick asked. There was wind blowing from his side and Jason can almost see in his head the man swinging in the air.

“The little bird had another ‘Foxtrot Hotel Tango’ ambush plan. We both died.”

“RR, what did I tell you about suicide strategies? We really got to get you to therapy.” Dick chastised, although his voice was laced with laughter.

“That’s what I said!” Jason yelled with exasperation as Red Robin made a non-committal “Eh.”

“Anyways, we’re out, we’ll be in the cave by the time you guys are done. Hood out.” There was a string of acknowledgement before Jason switched his comms off. Tim looked at him with a frown.

“I do not always have a ‘FHT’ plan.” He said, arms crossed.

“Then why is it an acronym to ‘Fucking hell Tim’?” Red Hood bites back.

“Eh.”

[therealvalkyrie]

Through the Mirror: Part 1

my body, my music

Pairing/setting: Detective!Levi Ackerman x Female!Ghost!Reader, modern!AU within the Walls

Summary: When you’re murdered one Tuesday morning, can Levi piece together the true circumstances of your death with your help from beyond the grave?

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: dead body, descriptions of blood, swearing, mentions of violence

AN: Welcome to my new series because I have no self control and can’t finish projects before starting others! Lemme just start off by saying updates may come pretty irregularly because I do have a lot of other WIPs to work on, but! I’m really excited about this idea and have a whole lot planned:) I seriously hope you enjoy. After all, who doesn’t love a good murder mystery? Drop into my DMs/askbox/comments/reblogs to let me know what you think! Be kind to yourselves and others. ~valkyrie

“Ah, shit! Hello!? I’m standing right here!”

The woman completely ignores you, stepping carefully over the puddle of blood and across your tiny living room. You cross your arms and pout. She ignores that, too. 

“‘Scuse me, boys, let the experts take it from here,” she quips, gently pushing past the two detectives and crouching next to your body on the ground. 

It’s ugly, but she’s probably seen worse, you muse from where you’re leaning against the door jamb. It’s only been lying there for a couple of hours, so at least you haven’t bloated to something out of an NCIS episode. Must smell horrid, though, judging by the mask the head detective has pulled over his face.

“So, you said the landlady called at about 7 am?” the ME inquires, cocking her head up to look at the detectives, nylon gloved hands held at the ready.

“7:07 exactly. Said a neighbor made a noise complaint, she came up to check it out, found signs of a forced entry, and called us.” It’s the taller blonde who speaks up, reading from an off-brand pocket notepad in his left hand. The kind you’d find on sale at Staples after Back-to-School season.

Interesting. You lean your head against the wall, eyes trained on the trio. You’d pegged the ill-tempered shorter one as in charge. Maybe he’s just the quiet type. 

“Hmm, alright. Moblit, get off your ass and come take the pictures before we move her,” the woman calls to someone behind you, and you turn just in time to get a face full of Moblit’s chest as he walks towards you. 

You cringe back with a “God, seriously?” to no response.

“Yes, sorry, right away, Hange!” Moblit hurries past- no, through -you, sidestepping the ottoman and the blood. It feels weird, like a strong wind, but not altogether unpleasant to have someone walk through you, you suppose. You look down at your chest to watch your misty body re-settle into itself before looking back at the group in your living room.

Were it not for the gruesome accents of blood flecked up the walls and your body riddled with stab wounds, you’d chuckle at how all four of them struggled to navigate the space. It’s cramped enough when it’s just you, fitting only a couch, a chair, a coffee table, your fern (Boris), and a narrow IKEA bookshelf. With the four of them plus a dead body, it’s like watching a freaking clown car.

“Sorry, excuse me, Captain, oh, was that your toe—?” Moblit’s struggling the most, having to move to capture different angles with his bulky camera. When he steps on the shorter man’s toe, he positively blanches, fumbling over himself to apologize while the ME laughs openly.

“God, alright, just,” the Captain pinches his delicate nose between a thumb and forefinger, then decides it’s better to wait in the kitchen. “C’mon, Gin, let’s chat in there.”

The Captain and the blonde detective both pass through you on the way back to the kitchen, but you only sigh and shake the tingly feeling of being incorporeal out of your fingers before following them.

“So,” the man called Gin takes the initiative, flipping back through his notebook and standing by the fridge. “I got statements from the landlady and two of the neighbors, numbers 303 and 304 down the hall. 301, directly across the hall, didn’t answer, but I got contact info from the landlady.” He pauses to read and scratch at his whiskery beard. “It was 304 who made the noise complaint, said she heard yelling this morning at around 5:45, and that she normally wouldn’t’ve said anything but it was, quote, the fourth goddamn time this week and I work the goddamn night shift, I deserve some fucking rest, unquote.”

You grin. Mrs. Sheffield was never one to mince words, something you appreciated when your ex-boyfriend got too loud and she took it upon herself to give him a piece of her mind. You catch a glimmer of a smile on the ornery Captain’s face above where he’s pulled his mask down before he gestures for Gin to keep going, keeping his thoughtful gaze fixed on the floor and his back against your countertop.

“Then after she called the landlady, she went to bed, only to be woken by us two hours later.”

“You said she called the landlady at 5:45 and that she works the night shift?”

Gin double checks his notes. “That’s right.”

“And she works at the hospital?”

“Yes, as a scrub nurse on the night shift.”

“But the night shift at the hospital ends at 6:30.”

“It was her night off,” you and Gin say at the same time before you catch yourself. They can’t hear you, anyway. This’d be a lot easier if they could.

Gin plows ahead. “But she says she keeps the same sleep schedule so she doesn’t, ah, fuck up her circadian rhythm.”

The Captain practically snorts at this, itching for a second under his silk cravat (can someone say pretentious) before settling back into a listening silence.

“303 says he didn’t hear a thing. College kid, looked exhausted. Said he was asleep the whole night after he got in at,” a page flip, “11 o’clock last night. Wasn’t much help, but looked genuinely upset when we told him about the murder. Wanted to know if there was anything he could do. Oh, but he did, uh, hang on,” more page flips, “He did tell us that he heard her and her boyfriend arguing a lot. Which is consistent with what Mrs. Sheffield told us.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” you correct into thin air. 

“A lover’s spat gone wrong, then,” Mr. Pretentious Captain muses. You huff in annoyance. A lover’s spat. If that’s all that this is written off as you’ll have some serious PD haunting to do. Chris may have been an angry, loud, disruptive manipulator, but he wouldn’t murder you. He didn’t murder you. “Any info on the whereabouts of the boyfriend?”

“Ex-boyf—!”

Blondie cuts you off, “Not currently, but we do have a name: Chris Henderson, works in admin down at the University. Lives across town closer to the Bridge.”

“Send some uniforms to bring him in for questioning. No arrests yet, tell ‘em to keep it friendly.”

“Right, I’ll put Dreyse and Bodt on it.”

“Dreyse, really?” Captain Cravat gives Gin an incredulous look. 

“Hey, she may look like a ditz but she gets the job done. And she might get him to let down his guard,” Gin argues, grinning. 

“Fine. I’ll meet them at the station, you stay here and make sure that mousy-haired dunce doesn’t fuck up my crime scene.”

“Hey, who’re you callin’ mousy-haired, short stack?” Hange actually sticks her whole head through yours this time, to butt into the conversation, and you shriek and jump away to the other side of your tiny kitchen, now sandwiched between Blondie and Shortstack. The latter twitches and swats at the air by his ear, as though to dislodge a fly, narrowly missing yours. You give him a weird look then turn back to listen to the ME. She’s leaning into the kitchen at an alarming angle, one hand on the doorframe and the other on the end of the gurney you assume is carrying your body. You shudder at the thought of being toted around in a dark, musty, humid glorified coat bag. Ugh. 

“—takin’ this baby”-she slaps the gurney twice and you flinch-“back so I can get started on the autopsy, Moblit’s staying to take more pictures and collect forensics. If Eld’s stayin’ here with Mob, does that mean you’re catching a ride with me, Levi?” The question is addressed to Captain Grump on your right, who gives a heavy sigh and pushes off the counter. 

“I guess so. I get to choose music though.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” she’s wagging a finger, grinning. “My body, my music!”

“How about my body, my music?” you suggest, following Levi. “I deserve it after the day I’ve had.”

Again, Levi twitches and swats aggressively by his ear, nearly hitting you full in the face this time. 

“You hear that, Gin? This place got a mosquito problem or something?”

“I do not have a mosquito problem!” and “No, sir, I don’t hear anything.” overlap in the air. 

Captain Levi only grunts, then starts spouting instructions, which Gin notes down. “I want footage from any cameras in the building, and from the shops next door and across the street. I want statements from residents both upstairs and downstairs. I want names, addresses, and numbers of next of kin on my desk by noon, and lastly, I want no one, save for myself, you, shitty glasses, and mousy-hair, in or out of this apartment. Are we clear?”

“Crystal clear, sir.”

“Good. I’m leaving you Braus to help and to show her the ropes of this kind of thing. Even though she’s on the case, she will not set foot in this apartment. I don’t trust her not to leave breadcrumbs in the bloodstains.

“Yes, sir.”

“I expect an in-person report before shift-change this evening. See you then.” Then, he’s sweeping out of the kitchen in pursuit of Hange and the gurney, leaving you to scurry after. As you exit your home, he shoots a young auburn-haired woman in a crisp white blouse and wool slacks a look. “Braus. You’re with Gin. Don’t go in the apartment.”

She straightens up from leaning against the wall with a jolt and brushes croissant crumbs off her front. “Yes, Captain Levi, sir!” It’s slightly muffled by the pastry stuffed into her mouth.

“Tch.”

It’s fascinating watching how Levi and Hange manage to navigate the gurney down the narrow, twisting stairs of your walk-up apartment building. They’re both clearly used to this sort of thing, communicating only in short phrases and grunts when they encounter an obstacle. Occasionally, you offer up a pointer and watch as Levi becomes increasingly irritated. 

“Watch out for Mr. Laslow’s cat, he likes to sneak up on ya!”

“Hange, do you hear— shit!” Levi hops to the side, narrowly avoiding the tabby tail as Tubbins McGee whisks past.

“It’s only a cat, Levi, dunno what’s got you so worked up today,” Hange teases, grin echoing your own as you chortle from the landing above them. 

Eventually, they spill out onto the sidewalk and into the bright mid-day, and Hange groans loudly, stretching with both hands on her back.

“Ugh. Remind me not to die in there, I’d hate to put someone else through that.”

“Boof, tell me about it,” you commiserate. 

“Noted,” Levi snarks. 

Hange removes jingling keys from her pocket and unlocks the ME’s van parked along the sidewalk with a beep, then opens the back doors and steps in. You follow, leaning against the cool metal siding to watch.

When they both load into the front seats and the engine turns over, you lean forward between them to listen in.

“So,” Hange starts, smoothly pulling out into the road behind a silver minivan. “I’ll be able to give you a more solid answer in a couple hours, but my initial estimated time of death would be around 5:45 this morning.”

Levi nods, staring out the passenger window while he answers. “That lines up with the neighbor’s story.”

“Theories so far?”

“Well, there’s the boyfriend,” he muses, lifting a hand to rub his chin.

“Too obvious,” you say dully, not bothering to amend the lack of “ex” yet again. “Next theory.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then mutter, almost too quietly for you to catch: “Too obvious, hmm? Next theory....”

You’re momentarily flabbergasted, hand falling through the faux-leather seat back in your shock. Can he actually hear you? You shake out your hand while it re-materializes, tuning in to the conversation as Hange’s responding. 

“—a little far-fetched, don’t you think? I mean, has there been any of that activity in this area recently?”

“Mm, I’ll have to touch base with Petra. If there has been, I think it’s worth looking into.”

“What is? Wait, go back,” you frantically plead, leaning further into his airspace. But Hange plows on. 

“Oh, it’s Petra, now, hmm? Not Raggedy Anne anymore?” Her tone is teasing, and she glances over to Levi for a reaction. 

He doesn’t give her one, just stares out the window pensively before reaching for the radio dial. The stereo blares up into an Oldies station, and you make a disgusted face along with Levi. 

“You listen to this shit?”

“Hey, my dead body, my music, sweetcheeks. Don’t like it, you can thumb it back to the PD.”

“How about my dead body, my music?” you suggest again, reaching for the dial at the same time as Levi does. Just as his slender fingers touch it, your hand passes through the whole front console and the oldies are replaced with a terrifyingly loud static screeching. 

“Christ, Levi, what’d you do?” Hange shrieks, lunging forward to punch the radio off as you remove your hand. 

“Nothing! It just went berserk!”

They bicker while you stare at your offending palm. “Huh. Didn’t know I could do that.”

If you can actually interact with objects, at least to some degree, and if it turns out Levi can hear you.... This whole thing might be easier than you thought.

[elareine]

Jaydick: soft kisses in the Watchtower/Batcave when they're reunited after a long mission?

Of course <3 This is a sequel to yesterday’s drabble. 

Clark and Bruce had been allies slash friends for a long, long time. As such, Clark had naturally filled the ‘Uncle’ position for Bruce’s two oldest boys. 

Back then, they had just been “The Robins.” Two of a kind for so long, people forgot who had been first. Clark hadn’t—he still remembered Dick when Bruce first took him in, simultaneously the angriest and friendliest child he’d ever met. 

Then Jason had arrived, and he’d latched onto Dick like a particularly stubborn lamprey. Not that Dick was any better. Those two boys had given each other all the love they had ever lost. 

It probably wasn’t healthy. Clark had tried to discuss it with Lois; however, she’d just leveled him with a glance and asked: “Would you consider that more or less healthy than dressing up and going out to ‘fight crime’ at night?” 

Clark had never seen such a devastating use of air quotes before. She had a point, though. He stopped asking about things he couldn’t change and focused on being the best “Uncle Clark” instead.

Nightwing had grown into a respected figure, hero to all, friend to many. The esteemed leader of the Titans. Someone who Clark counted as a friend as well as his favorite nephew. 

Red Hood, on the other hand… there were rumors about him. What he’d gone through. What he’d done when he came back. Clark wasn’t as well informed as certain other League members, and Bruce was notoriously hard to get information out of. 

Didn’t matter. Nightwing had wanted Red Hood to return to the fold, and so it had happened, even over Bruce’s—and, Clark suspected, Jason’s—objections. He tended to work in small-subteams rather than the day-to-day operations, but that suited everyone just fine. As far as Clark knew, that was where Red Hood was now: infiltrating an alien smuggling operation with Starfire and Speedy. 

Which left Nightwing to his duties. Usually no problem; Dick had plenty of friends and family and wasn’t exactly to prone to pining before. (“At least he’s not dead this time,” he’d told Clark once. “And I’m busy just as much.”) Recently, though, Clark thought that something was bothering him. There were smudges under Dick’s eyes that he would never let anyone see if he could help it. 

Even now, as they were sharing watch duty at the tower, Nightwing was pacing up and down the room while Clark typed away at his next article. He was considering bringing it up when the door flew open. Very few people entered this room without knocking. Red Hood, though, strode right in. 

“Red Hood,” Nightwing called out, startled. “You’re back earlier.” 

“Tied up the loose ends much quicker than expected,” the slightly younger man replied. “By which I mean Starfire lost her temper.” 

“…any casualties?” 

“Not on our side.” 

Nightwing sighed. “I’m looking forward to your report, then.” 

“That’s not why I’m here.” Red Hood took off his helmet, and Jason strode toward Dick. “And you know that.” 

Hastily, Clark made a show of being utterly focused on his monitor. The slightest hitch in his typing and they would notice. (Bloody detectives.) He didn’t want to take this moment away from them. 

(…okay, and maybe he was the slightest bit nosy, too.)

He didn’t dare look up, but once more, his hearing served him well. 

 He heard the soft “You okay?” Jason whispered, and the gentle “I missed you,” Dick replied with. The “I love you,” followed by “I’m home now.” The long, soft kiss they shared; the hitch in their breathing, the slowing of Dick’s heartbeat for the first time in days. 

It was enough for Clark to return to his work with a smile. 

(I’m taking prompts until the end of the year.) 

[scorpionyx9621]

I Hope Hopeless Changes Over Time: A Red Hood and Batman Fic

*Source of the image I found off of Pintrest. I tried to find the original artist but the link on Pintrest led to a dead Tumblr account. If anyone wants to find/point out the account to me so I can give proper credit to the artist please please do.*

I wanted to make a fic based on an ask I did from the lovely @dilfbatman about Jason and Bruce. I hope people enjoy this mini-fic that I've expanded upon.

TW: Blood, Physical Assault, Suicide Ideation, Swearing. Bruce being a shitty father but trying. Jason having demons 

3.75K words. 

Bruce was uneasy about Jason staying over at the Wayne Mansion. Even with other members of the family around. Jason has done so much wrong and has hurt so many people. However, at the end of the day, Jason still is his son. So when he gets a call from Jason in a hushed voice asking Bruce to stay the night. He hesitated for a second, but acquiesced, Jason was nothing if not independent, so to be asking Bruce outright to stay at the Wayne Manor meant something was wrong.

"Master Jason wouldn't reach out to any of us unless something was gravely wrong, Master Wayne." Alfred had reassured Bruce, who was staring absentmindedly at the glass case which housed Jason's old Robin costume. The costume that Jason had died in. Bruce always tried to repress the memory of holding his son's cold, lifeless body. The pain he felt from losing his parents burned in his heart as an everlasting stab wound. But the pain from losing Jason, his son, it was too much to bare.

"I'd be welcoming to Master Jason, but keep your distance. Master Damian is spending the night at Jon Kent's house, Master Richard is in Blüdhaven, and Master Timothy is with the Teen Titans tonight. I'll rest assured Jason doesn't try anything to harm you. But don't try to encourage a confrontation." Alfred explained. He always seemed to understand Jason to a tee after he came back to life.

"I don't know how you do it Alfred, you can read the boy like a book." Bruce had retorted. Cocking a half-smile to the man who raised him since his parents died.

"Master Wayne, Master Jason wears his heart on his sleeve. He always has. And one of the reasons why you two fight constantly is because, for as terrific as a detective you are, you are horrifically inept in reading the emotions of your children." Alfred had stated, those words bit Bruce. He wasn't expecting such sharp words from Alfred. "We failed Master Jason. And he's hurt, he's been hurt for years because of it. However he keeps choosing to come back and try and trust again. We needn't come at him with accusations of ulterior motives, but we should be supportive." Alfred stated.

"But cognizant of what Jason is capable of." Bruce added back. Jason may need help, but he's still dangerous. He has tried to kill Bruce and the rest of the Robins multiple times. He wants to trust Jason and warm up to him again. But the man who wears the Red Hood and stalks the streets of Gotham killing those he deems criminals is not his son anymore.

Alfred and Bruce greeted Jason as he walked in the large double doors of the Wayne Manor. The first thing Bruce noticed was the dark circles under Jason's eyes. It seemed as if the man hadn't slept in days. Jason was wearing sweatpants and a fitted black wife beater, accentuating his muscles. Jason would have looked more intimidating had his body language not suggested he was as disheveled as he was, physically and mentally.

"Thanks Alfred." Jason had said meekly towards the butler. He took one step into the mansion and looked at Bruce. Bruce noticed as soon as Jason's eyes met his, his tired irises contorted into anger. His lips pursed downwards but Jason chose not to say anything. Instead just walking past Bruce pretending not to acknowledge him.

"Master Jason, you will be staying in the guest suite on the main floor. I've already prepped everything for your arrival. Please make yourself at home." Alfred had said. Jason just shook is head as he headed towards the hallway leading the guest suite. Bruce didn't notice it immediately but the stench Jason had emitted stung in the air. It smelled like stale liqour and body oder. It seems Jason hadn't bathed in days. Bruce had wanted to say something but chose not to.

The evening went by quietly enough. Jason had taken a shower and changed into another fitted wife beater but still sported a tired energy about him. Alfred had put together a beef pot roast for dinner with red potatoes, carrots, onions, and celery over garlic mashed potatoes. A favorite dish of Jason's. The three of them ate quietly as Bruce continued to size up his son. He was conflicted. At one point he saw the man who blew up the head of a Gotham security force member with a torture decide he had created. On the other hand, he saw the boy who would beg for Bruce to buy him more books after he finished the maximum amount a library card would allow for a week in the span of 3 days. The son who told him being Robin gave him magic.

The dinner ended as it began. With awkward silence and the father-son duo eyeing each other. One with cautious trepidation and the other with abject hate. Bruce had decided not to go on patrol tonight as he felt he needed to be at the manor should anything happen while Jason was here. An uneasy sense of dread built over Bruce as he had said good night to Jason as the two passed by each other in the halls. Jason simply spat 'Bitch' at Bruce and walked into the bedroom. Bruce had been bad with other people's emotions, but something didn't sit right with the way Jason was carrying himself. He had decided to stay up tonight regardless. A sense came over him after being sworn at by Jason. A sense he hadn't felt in a long time. He felt as though his son needed help.

————————————————————

"You're a monster"

"Jason is a murderer"

"Stay away from Jason, he'll kill you."

"No one wants you around, Todd"

"You're just a good guy trying to be bad"

"This is the kid you had to replace me with as Robin? Bruce he's pathetic."

"I can't believe my daughter wasted the Lazarus Pit on a miserable failure like you."

"Maybe I'd be better off dead"

Jason tossed and turned. It's been days. He couldn't get the voices out of his head. Those whispery, moany voices that taunted and tormented him. He knew it was a result of the Lazarus Pit. Ever since Roy died and everyone left him the voices started taunting him again. He tried everything he could to get the voices to stop. He drank, he read, he worked out, he did everything he could. The only way the voices became quiet were when he was beating the ever-loving shit out of some criminals. This was not the mindset Jason had wanted. He wanted to go back to being supported by Bruce, the man who betrayed him. He knew that Bruce was weak. He couldn’t kill the Joker because of his weakness. 

Jason got up and walked over to the connecting bathroom to the suite that he was staying in. He went to the sink and splashed some cold water on his face. Against his better judgement, Jason looked up to the figure he saw in the mirror. He took note of his jawline, his face, his green eyes, his muscles.. but one thing that caught his eye was the fucking skunk streak of hair at the top of his head. The physical reminder of his dip in the Lazarus Pit. He had just re-dyed the spot not two days ago and it already came back. He did everything he could to try to hide the streak. It’s what he hated most about his new body. The pit wiped away all of the scars he had on his body. And any new fresh scar or wound would just fade in a matter of moments due to the effects of the pit. The only thing that ever stayed was that damned streak. 

Jason had nothing but disgust and contempt for the man he saw in the mirror, which, ironically, was himself. 

“You’re just using the sarcasm to hide your hatred.” 

“It’s your fault that everyone hates you.” 

“Killing the sick of the masses to save those who are weak is your calling” 

“Those reptiles deserve to die” 

“I don’t want to kill unless I don’t have to.. I don’t want people to hate me..” Jason tried reassuring himself. The voices in his head kept getting louder and louder. “I want Bruce and everyone to love me again....” He continued to try to re-assure himself. It was a false sense of hope as always. His mind soon wandered to a moment where he was on top of Dick in a fight. Confronting his older sibling and reciting a quote he had heard from a Japanese philosopher and optimist as he had the barrel of a gun placed against his older brother’s temple. 

“Do you know what the most convenient phrase in the world is, Dickie? It’s ‘I’m sorry.’ Anyone who hears that is obligated to forgive, no matter how hurt or angry they might be... There's no more disgusting phrase in all the world. It's used to displace your suffering unto others so you can escape your sins... The moment you employ it, your suffering becomes the other person's. A thing can be unforgivable, but oh, if they apologize... I say there's no reason to accept that suffering. You don't have to forgive them. Cast aside the mask of your conscience.“ 

“Stop this. Please stop this.” Jason had begged aimlessly into the air. He didn’t want to live like this anymore. He didn’t want to live, period. He just wanted all of this to end. He had caused so much pain and so much suffering to the people of Gotham all so he could attempt to hurt Bruce. But those words kept repeating in his head. He knew he had to stop this. He needed help, he wanted to go to Bruce and explain what was going on but Bruce would just have him institutionalized. His murderer of a son starts hearing voices in his head? A one way ticket to a padded room. 

Jason suddenly stared back into the mirror and saw something he detested. The green eyes that stared into his soul. The one he hated more than anything else. Was himself. This thing was staring him in the face mocking him, and he wanted it gone. 

“Do it Jason.” the voice had beckoned from the mirror. “Kill them all. Slit Damian’s throat and watch the fucker bleed. Bash Tim’s stupid face into the concrete until there’s nothing but mush. Rip Dick limb from fucking limb. Watch Bruce as you choke the last bit of life from his eyes. I promise all the pain will go away once all of this is done.” the voice sounded almost sweet as it promised to do all of this. Jason just retched as he saw the green eyed monster promising poison to him. He felt his vision fade to black. 

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STOP IT. SHUT. UP. 

*CRASH* 

Bruce had jumped up from the chair he was sitting on in the library, the voice came from the suite that Jason was staying in. Bruce didn’t have time to think. He just ran towards the noise. He threw the door to the suite open and ran to the bathroom. There he saw Jason in front of a heavily cracked mirror. Jason was hyperventilating and he saw blood oozing from Jason’s fist which was pressed against the mirror. Bruce saw from the reflection that Jason had split open the left side of his lip seemingly from a shard of glass. It wasn’t long before Jason glanced up at the imposing shadow in the mirror and noticed Bruce’s presence. 

“YOU STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME BRUCE.” Jason had shouted at his reflection. Jason was shaking. Bruce had wanted to assess the injury that Jason gave himself. But he knew he was cornering a scared animal if he pressed any farther forward. Bruce stood their frozen. Pondering between trying to press forward upon a killer, or to check up on his son. 

“Jason, I just...” Bruce was cut off by another scream as Jason turned around. 

“IF YOU COME ANY CLOSER I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL KILL YOU WHERE YOU FUCKING STAND YOU PIECE OF SHIT.” Bruce finally got the cue. The hitch in Jason’s voice. This is the same hitch his voice made when he was a kid and was angry at Bruce. Alfred was right. This is his son. And right now Bruce needed not to be the Batman approaching the Red Hood. He needed to be Bruce, to help his son. 

Bruce walked forward to Jason, still shaking as blood oozed from the gashes of glass on his fist. Bruce decided against everything in his gut telling him to stop this criminal. This monster who killed for sport and to prove a point. He needed to help Jason, his son. 

Bruce was knocked back by a fist to his chest. Glass imbedded itself into Bruce as he felt the sting of their shards. Jason was right, he was going to hurt Bruce if he approached. Oracle was right, Jason had been abusing venom. The quick gain in muscle mass was proof enough but the stinging pain in Bruce’s chest also proved that hypothesis. Jason barred his teeth as his eyes displayed a seething hatred. Bruce would have been frightened on any other day. Today, Bruce felt a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time. Bruce collected himself and got up to approach Jason again. 

“I TOLD YOU I’M GOING TO KILL YOU BRUCE. I FUCKING HATE YOUR GUTS. I WANT YOU TO DIE. I WANT ALL OF US TO JUST FUCKING DIE.” Jason screamed even louder this time. A hot stream of tears worked their way down Jason’s cheeks. Bruce no longer saw a rage-induced monster but the boy who took a tire iron to his gut on the streets of Gotham. The boy who would was thrilled at every opportunity he got to show Bruce the A’s on every test he got in school. This was his baby boy who needed his help. 

“Jason Peter Todd that’s enough.” Bruce said firmly, but not harshly. Jason stared directly into his eyes. “Jason. I want you to listen to me.” 

“Go to hell you motherfucker.” those words which escaped Jason were laced with poison. Bruce didn’t waver. 

“You can punch me as much as you want Jason and I’ll deserve all of it.” Bruce came closer to Jason. Jason proceeded to physically make himself smaller. Like a scared animal. Bruce remember what he did to Jason after he had seemingly killed The Penguin. How he beat Jason to within an inch of his life. His heart plummeted to his stomach as he saw Jason cower like a scared dog over his approach. 

“What are you going to do Bruce, beat me to a fucking pulp again? You hate me more than you hate the fucking Joker, don’t you?” Jason asked. Bruce truly saw the fear in those green eyes. He had to take a moment and realized just what he was doing. He unclenched his jaw and relaxed his shoulders as he approached Jason. This time he was back within striking range of his son. 

“Jason. I failed you. I have been failing you for the past 10 years since your death. I have failed this city and this family in providing the protection it needs. I couldn’t kill The Joker because I’m weak.” Bruce sucked at emotions and emoting. But Bruce hadn’t felt this shaky and wavering since the day he lost Jason. His son needed to know the truth. He deserved to know the truth. “Jason I never hated you. I hated the actions you have taken against the people of this city. But I’ve come to realize that the hatred and contempt I’ve held is because you do what I can’t do.” 

“Oh so now you’re coming over to apologize? I don’t owe you shit after what you’ve done to me.” Jason had stated. He may have been acting like a pinned animal. But his mouth will never not cut like knives. 

“Jason, when we had fought in the abandoned apartment. And you had the Joker with you. You had tried to shoot me after I had turned away from you.” Bruce said. Inching ever closer to Jason while trying not to be imposing. “In that moment, I threw the batarang because I knew you were going to retaliate against me. But I need you to know in that moment I turned away. I turned away because I decided I wasn’t to be the one to decide the Joker’s fate. He had taken your life and it wasn’t up to me to decide. I want nothing more than for the Joker to pay for the countless lives hes taken and ruined.” Bruce swallowed hard as he felt tears beginning to well in his eyes. “I failed you because I couldn’t kill the Joker. But in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to have my baby boy back. I wanted you back in my life. I still want you back in my life.” 

“Bullshit. Fucking BULLSHIT.” Jason spat at Bruce. The emotions were flooding out of his face. Anger, hatred, fear, but most of all sadness. Jason’s voice began wavering as he began to cry. “If you loved me why in the fuck have you never realized I’ve been trying to help the people of Gotham. Instead every time I take matters into my own hands all I meet are your fucking fists. I hate your guts Bruce. We’d all just be better off fucking dead. It’s all Hopeless. I’m hopeless.” 

Bruce took a deep breath. He tried to find his resolve. He wanted nothing more than to be able to reach out to his son again. “You’re absolutely right Jason. I’ll bet Gotham would be a whole lot better without me. Without the pain I have caused. And no amount of apologies will fix the pain that I have caused you. No words will ever take back the transgressions I have taken against you.” Bruce was crying this time. “But know this. You always have been my son. And I love you so much. The day I lost my parents was agony. The day I lost you, I felt like I had lost myself I felt I had died a bit inside.” Bruce choked out. “We both have done so much we regret. If I could take back all the times I hit you I would do it in a heartbeat. But no amount of sorry will take back that pain. I shouldn’t be in the position to be asking this. But I just want my son back.” Bruce swallowed. “You have every right to hate me, but I will never stop loving you. You aren’t hopeless and you never have been. You never have been a burden. You are valued by so many people. I. I love you my son. I love you Jason."

Jason’s face relaxed from a position of contempt and hatred and soon was overcome with years of pent up tears. Jason let out a hearty scream as he proceeded to weep and sob. As if a dam had broke and was threatening to engulf a town in an apocalypse. Bruce went against everything he had known and was screaming from the inside of his body and wrapped Jason in a hug. He was almost as large as Bruce himself and barely fit around his arms. But Bruce held his son and hugged him tight. Jason was crying uncontrollably. 

“I’m hearing these voices. They’re telling me I’m a monster and a killer and that I should kill all of you.” Jason shouted between sobs. “But I don’t want to. I’m so afraid Bruce. I don’t want to hurt anyone unless I have to.” 

“Just breath Jason. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Let it all out.” Bruce had solidified his resolve and worked on being there for Jason. He couldn’t run away this time. His son needed him more than ever. And Gotham be damned. He’s not making this mistake twice. He’s staying here. For Jason. 

It felt like hours before Jason had run out of tears and sobs. Jason was fading and seemed like he was about to fall asleep. The shards of glass that were imbedded in his hand seemingly prevented Jason from bleeding out. Bruce had saw Jason’s eyes glaze over as his breathing calmed. 

“Jason, I’m going to pick you up and take you to bed.” Bruce had said, asking for permission from his second son. Jason simply nodded as he starred off. He was numb now. The pain seemingly gone for the moment. Bruce lifted Jason up and was taken aback by just how heavy his son was. He truly was 225lbs just like his records showed. This wasn’t the son who hid under the cabinets when Bruce first brought Jason home. But Bruce still saw the boy as his son nonetheless. As Bruce laid Jason on the bed Alfred had approached with a first aid kit. Proceeding to begin to clean up Jason’s hand. Jason was so exhausted he barely felt any of the picking and pulling or the iodine going into his wounds. He kept his eyes fast forward on Bruce. 

“Bruce. I. I’m sorry.” Jason had said meekly. 

“Don’t apologize Jason.” Bruce had stated. He ran his hand through Jason’s hair, giving a soft massage to his scalp. “You get some sleep now. I don’t think you’ve rested in days.” 

Bruce had remembered the time he had read Jason to sleep. This time he had thought back to a poem that struck him from his phone. It was from a famous lyricist and singer. As Bruce pulled up his phone he had found the poem and recited it as Jason fell asleep. Things are far from perfect or even better. But tomorrow was going to be the first day of the rest of his and Jason’s lives. 

“They told me once, ‘there's a place where love conquers all’

A city with the streets full of milk and honey

I haven't found it yet, but I'm still searching

All I know is a hopeless place that flows with the blood of my kin

Perhaps hopeless isn't a place

Nothing but a state of mind” 

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pHEW GOD THAT WAS LONG. I hope you all enjoyed the fic! This was my first published attempt at angst and whump and while I feel some parts are cringe. I am proud of what I made. 

Big thanks again to @dilfbatman for inspiring this fic. The inspiration of the title is the song Hopeless: by Halsey. The quote about I’m Sorry is from the character Shadow Maya Amano from Persona 2: Innocent Sin. And the poem at the end is the first part of the lyrics to the song Good Mourning by Halsey.