#he ruined this little boys life even More for his revenge plot

[wen-ning]

jin ling becoming like. basically president. at 14/15 makes me CRY he already hardly had a chance to be a kid and now he has to run a small nation?? and getting help from jiang cheng makes it even SADDER because if u thought jc was stressed before, now he’s running TWO sects and you know jin ling is gonna try so fucking hard to not make him worry and i just. i need a nap.

[joequiinn]

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 9

[chap eight] | [all chapters here] | [chap ten]

Summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

notes & tropes: fem reader, slow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers

a/n: Me?? Taking another unexpected writing hiatus?? Never. But forreal, you all know how life gets. So, as a treat here's a longer chapter (that may or may not be a bit rambly) to make up for my absence. As I wrote, this just kept going and going, so I hope you all enjoy the extra few thousand words lmao

wc: 8.6k

Chapter Nine

The rest of Monday was absolute shit following your fight with Eddie. After spending the entirety of lunch break hiding out under the bleachers in an attempt to pull yourself together, facing your peers for the rest of the day was the last thing you wanted. The trek to your fifth period class was like some walk of shame, as if you were wearing some damned scarlet letter; it felt as if the entire school was watching you, waiting to see if you’d make yourself look like an idiot again or if you’d erupt. You had never felt so scrutinized before, so susceptible to judgment, but you fought tooth and nail not to give people the reaction they were hoping for.

The next day wasn’t any better. Once again, you felt the weight of everyone’s attention, you felt the pressure of all their judgment. Was this how it felt to be in Eddie’s shoes, how it felt to be a total social outcast? It was even shittier than you could have predicted, and you found yourself questioning the stupid little plan you and Eddie had been hatching that led to this.

It only grew worse as the day went on. Third period was arguably the most frustrating - you were stuck sitting next to Eddie for a whole damn hour, and he didn’t speak a single word to you. You didn’t even think it was possible for that boy to go quiet for longer than a few minutes, yet he proved you wrong, keeping his mouth zipped tight and his eyes on anything but you. Being ignored by Eddie caused your anger to flare, and if you had less self control you would’ve said something about it, would’ve given him a piece of your mind, but your frustrations had kept you, too, surprisingly silent. Or maybe it was the fear of looking stupid again.

Wednesday continued much the same way, although you felt less frustrated by everyone’s critical glances and Eddie’s willful ignorance of your existence. You thought maybe you were starting to get your shit together, that you had finally combatted all your pent up emotions and pushed them all the way down to the pit of your heart, where you'd just ignore them like you did with any challenging feelings. Hell, you were even beginning to fool yourself into thinking that you were feeling better, though deep down you knew that wasn’t true.

The worst that the week had to offer came during lunch that day, though, when you foolishly tried to approach Duncan and demand to know what the hell his deal was. You thought you had pulled yourself together well enough - you spoke with a sharp tone and a cool demeanor, but he and his gang of friends simply mocked your attempts at an argument. They did everything they could to make you feel small, but you kept it together, retreating from their harsh words with all the poise you could muster, hoping that your anger wasn’t too obvious. Their laughter and whispers wouldn't get to you, or at least you'd never show it - the whole school already saw you vulnerable once, it was not about to happen again.

 Consider your reputation officially fucking ruined. 

The thing that hurt more than any of their insults and derogatory words, however, was the look on Eddie’s face as you two met eyes across the lunch room, the way he watched you as you tried to march away from Duncan with your pride still intact. Eddie had been witness to the entire shitty interaction, you realized as you kept your eyes locked on his; the worry and concern so clear on his face caused a crack in your otherwise icy exterior, and you had to rip your gaze away so he couldn't see the hurt in your expression. You nearly broke down the very moment you were out of the cafeteria, the look on Eddie’s face burned into your mind.

The rest of the day was a fucking blur, and you were so emotionally worked up that you were grateful to leave school and go to the one place that could normally calm you down - the ice rink. Wednesday was always your skating day, and today you felt like you needed it more desperately than usual, thankful to spend a few hours on the ice after school. In all your moments of frustration, skating always did wonders to even you out, reminding you why you still enjoyed it after all these years - it helped calm your nerves, clear your head, and relax your heart. It helped to de-escalate your emotions, to make you think straight, and after how hard the past couple of days were, you desperately needed that.

Your anger at Duncan was still burning hot as ever, and even as you slowly relaxed you were still desperate to get back at him, not above stooping to his level. You’d have to corner him when he was alone, without his posse to back him up - then you could really hurt him with your scathing words. You also couldn’t help but wonder just how involved Amelia and Janet were in all this shit - if anything, this stunt was Amelia’s idea, but Janet? She couldn’t have been this cold and heartless; or maybe you just desperately hoped she wasn't.

As you looped around the ice far less elegantly than you normally would, you tried your damnedest not to think about Eddie, as if ignoring the thought of him would somehow remove you from fault. Now that you’ve actually had time to think about it, you knew you’d been mean to him just for the sake of it, just to let your frustrations out on someone. A younger you wouldn't have cared that you mistreated someone, would've just waved it off like a brat and moved on with your life. Hell, only a few months ago, you probably would've still found it comical to talk down to someone like Eddie the way that you did.

But you were not that girl anymore, although you also weren't emotionally ready to acknowledge that Eddie didn’t deserve your vitriol; after all, you were mean to just about everyone, what made him any different? You knew that you’d treated him badly simply because it was easy, because he was the only person there and you needed to let it out. The less prideful part of you knew that you were wrong for that, but that side of you had thus far been outweighed by your own stubbornness. Now, however, you were starting to think maybe you needed to do something about it.

On the one hand, you considered that you had no obligation to make things right with Eddie, and yet, something about that upset you. Were you really so terrible and bitchy that you’d avoid apologizing to him? Were you going to simply ignore him, if not treat him even worse than you’d already had been? That’s certainly something you would have done in the past, but somehow Eddie fucking Munson had made you a little less harsh than you once were.

No, you didn’t need to make this right, but you wanted to. Somehow, Eddie had undeniably grown on you, and at this rate he was virtually the only person you had on your side (that is, of course, if you don’t take into account his ignoring you the past two days). If anyone had even suggested a month ago that you’d be getting along so well with Eddie Munson, you probably would have gagged. What could you and a guy like him possibly have in common, what could you two possibly bond over? These were questions that you were still seeking answers to, even as you drove home after hours of skating at the rink.

Perhaps it was your sense of humor, so much more aligned with his than either of you had expected. Or maybe it was the effortlessness with which you could talk to one another, like you’d already known each other far longer than a few weeks. Hell, maybe it was that Eddie challenged you without even being mean about it, how he so simply gave you new perspectives to take into account and made you reconsider things you thought you knew.

It was strange to realize that, in your own way, you two had become almost-friends quite rapidly. Was that normal? Did other people feel so at ease with someone they’d known for only a few short weeks? You couldn’t remember what it was like when you became friends with Amelia or Janet or anyone else that ran in your former circle - had you bonded with them just as easily as you had with Eddie? Something in you suspected no.

But you tried to avoid thinking about that too much, because you certainly weren’t going to dig into it any deeper.

As you walked through the front door of your home, the silence of the house confirmed to you that your father was still, supposedly, at work. The only time you heard the buzz of electronics throughout the house was when he was around, because your mom never left a television or radio on unnecessarily. You’d bet that she was probably in the kitchen with the radio down low, just a bit of background noise to keep her company as she prepped for dinner. Or maybe she was on the phone in the home office, chatting away with one of her friends about the latest gossip in town.

You hated to admit it, but you and your mom were both used to your father not being around often - most days, he was gone before you left for school and didn’t return home until well into the evening. This had been the family’s routine for years now, so your father’s lack of interest in spending time at home no longer phased you. His absence was just as routine as your school schedule or your mom’s biweekly nail appointments.

You found it far more surprising when he was around - in fact, it almost dared to make you suspicious of him. Because you figured he never seemed interested in spending time with you or your mom, you couldn’t help but speculate what would prompt him to suddenly spend every night at the dinner table for a couple weeks, or to even suggest the family go out together on the weekend. You assumed it was some form of guilt - for a while now, you had yourself convinced that he was having an affair, so perhaps his brief bouts of attentiveness were his measly efforts to reconcile his infidelity with himself.

Of course, you’d never dare even imply this suspicion to your mother, for all you knew it could send her spiraling. And a part of you was convinced that perhaps she’d had her suspicions as well.

As you closed the front door behind you and slid out of your sneakers, you had every intention of running off to your room to avoid your mom entirely. After the week you’d had thus far, you’d rather be left alone, you didn’t want to get caught up in her usual superficial conversations. But before you could even take a step towards the staircase, your mom zipped out of the kitchen towards you, an eager shine in her eyes that almost made her appear younger. You gave her a quizzical look, taking a step back as she got just a little closer than you cared for; even with your parents, you preferred people stay at arm’s length.

“How was your day, hon?” She asked as if in anticipation of something. Your face twisted with even more confusion - what the hell was she so excited about? Was she really that oblivious to the funk you’d been in the past three days?

You stepped around your mom, intending to end this conversation quickly so you could disappear to your room. Your tone was dismissive as you replied coldly, “Not great.”

Her joy seemed to falter a little as she followed just a step behind you; clearly, whatever she wanted to talk about seemed to be important to her, “What do you mean?”

You paused to look back at her again, your agitation clear on your face as you studied her. You weren’t certain, but it seemed as if she were expecting a different response - a particular response. What exactly was she fishing for?

“Today sucked. Just like the rest of this shitty week.” Your tone was cold as you raised your brow, hoping that your attitude may deter her from asking anymore questions. Your callous word choice caused her to pull a face, studying your expression as if she were seeing you for the first time in a long time. For a moment, you thought maybe she’d actually act like your mother, you thought maybe she’d ask you what was wrong and offer a shoulder to cry on.

“I figured it’d be good,” she started with concern in her voice, putting on something of an encouraging smile, “considering the assembly on Monday.”

Dread immediately washed over you, her words causing your heart to drop into your stomach - how did she know about the assembly? The school wouldn’t have called the parents about it, they didn’t care that much. Maybe one of her friends had heard from their kid and then told her? Possibly, but not the most likely. So, how did she know?

All you could do was stare for a few tense moments, fighting to keep in all the feelings you’d just worked through on the ice rink. Your jaw tightened as you swallowed hard, attempting to quiet your mind and take a deep breath. Your intense eyes burned into your mother, who seemed to recognize that what she’d just said may have been a mistake.

“How do you know about that?” You probed with an edge to your voice, feeling as if all your emotions were going to come spilling out of you at any minute.

Although she appeared hesitant, your mom kept her composure, persisting to act bright in the foolish hopes that it would help you relax, “Amelia called while you were out.”

If your heart could drop any further, it would have. You began to feel almost out of body as you started to piece it all together, already realizing Amelia’s fucking game. She knew you wouldn’t have mentioned your dissolved friendship to your mother because of your distant relationship with your parents, and now she was using it against you. To what end? Simply to torment you more?

Receiving no response from you, your mother smiled encouragingly, still trying her hardest to keep things chipper as she continued, “She wanted to know if I’d like to be a chaperone for homecoming. She seemed so excited that both of you were nominated for homecoming queen!”

Your jaw clenched in anger, eyes growing harsher as they burnt into your mother. You had no reason to be mad at her, but at that moment your rage was coming back up, clawing its way out of you. It took everything in your power not to shout expletives in her face.

So, you turned away from her, trying to collect yourself by taking a few deep breaths. From over your shoulder, your mom continued, trying in vain to understand what was going on with you, “Honey, what’s wrong? This should be exciting news.”

You whipped around angrily, but bit your tongue as you two stared at one another, you in vexation and your mom in concern. You took one more deep breath while rolling your eyes, looking away again.

“Did Amelia tell you who I was nominated with? Or that we haven’t spoken a word to each other in nearly two weeks?” As your frustration bubbled, you met her eyes again, “Or that I was only nominated as some shitty prank? Did she mention that I ran out of the gym like a fucking coward because of how humiliated I felt?”

Your mother’s face was awash with concern as she looked between your eyes, and for a moment you really did think she’d comfort you, in fact, you were almost hoping for it. But that was quickly squashed, “Will you please watch your language? You don’t have to get so worked up.”

The upset on your face only increased - despite everything else you said, your language was the thing that concerned her most? You scoffed with frustration, shaking your head in disbelief as you all but shoved past her, keeping your wild eyes away from hers.

“You don’t even care!” You said venomously, stomping back towards your belongings left by the front door. Haphazardly, you shoved your feet into your shoes and dug around for your keys, “I’m not good right now, mom, and all you’re worried about is my fucking language! Do you care how I’m feeling?”

With a flustered look, your mom approached you, “Of course I care, but I can’t even understand you anymore! You’ve been so different recently, so much more distant. How am I supposed to know what’s going on if you won’t tell me?”

You simply shook your head, throwing your bag back on your shoulder once you had your keys. As you swung open the front door, it bounced off the wall, causing your mother to gasp at the aggressive act.

“Where are you going!?” She insisted while following you outside. You didn’t dare look back, marching towards your car as your anger continued to bubble over.

“Anywhere but here!” As you whipped around to the driver side door, you finally looked at your mother, who lingered on the front steps with a disappointed and confused expression. You were sure you looked absolutely wild and irate as you flung open the car door, carelessly tossing your bag inside and holding your mother’s gaze.

You could see that she was trying to make sense of the chaos happening right now, trying her best to keep it together as if that would calm you down now after everything that just happened. She wasn’t used to seeing you like this, so emotional and out of control - she’d seen you angrier these past couple weeks than you’d been your entire fucking life.

“Please just come back inside.” She tried earnestly, but you were too far gone to hear any of it. You ripped your gaze from hers and slammed the car door once you were settled into the seat, zipping out of the driveway fast enough that you nearly hit the mailbox.

You didn’t make it far, though, having to pull over only a minute later because you realized you were on the verge of crying. Fuck, when was the last time that had happened? You were never the type to get emotional like this, but shit, you’d had a stressful week. You had to catch your breath, to hold back your tears of anger, slamming your fists on the steering wheel a few times as if that could make everything better. You didn’t dare let a single tear roll down your face, but they were so welled up in your eyes that you could barely see, forcing you to blink and wipe them away.

What the hell were you doing? Where did you expect to go? These melodramatics felt fucking ridiculous, and you tried to convince yourself you were freaking out over nothing, although your emotions were clearly telling you otherwise. You couldn’t keep acting like this, you wouldn’t allow it - it wasn’t you, and it made you feel weak.

But shit, you felt like your world had been crashing down around you all week, and it was impossible to keep it together right now. So, you pounded your fists against the dashboard, hissing foul words while continuing to fight back everything that was swirling in your chest. You were certain that if any of your neighbors walked by your haphazardly parked car, they’d think you were having a total mental break. And maybe you were; fuck if you knew. You weren’t exactly thinking clearly right now.

After what felt like an eternity, you’d exhausted all your rage, dejectedly catching your breath and attempting to regain your composure. Shit, what were you going to do now? There’s no way in hell you’d go back home - you weren’t ready to deal with your mother again so soon. Or worse, your father, whose temper would simply set you off again.

As you swallowed down the lump in your throat, you couldn’t help but think of your fight with Eddie, and without any hesitation you accepted that right now you missed him. If you weren't so emotional, you'd have stopped to consider how strange that was. Maybe the past few days wouldn’t have been such shit if you’d just been nicer to him; maybe this was karma at work, making you miserable for how you treated him.

You had to apologize to Eddie. Right fucking now.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

As you drove through Forest Hills, you realized you’d never once set foot in a trailer park before. Looking out your windshield at the dark street, you were certain that one trailer home would maybe fill only two bedrooms of your own home. How people lived in such close quarters was something you couldn’t even comprehend, and on a normal night maybe you would’ve lingered on that thought. But considering that you came here on a mission, you were unable to become distracted; no, the anxiety that was rapidly growing in your chest kept you laser focused on the task you set out on.

It wasn’t until you reached this side of Hawkins that your fear began to mount - should you really be showing up to Eddie’s place unannounced? Is this terrible timing? What if his uncle was home? The further into Forest Hills you drove, the more worried you became. For all you knew, Eddie would slam the door in your face, tell you to fuck off and leave him alone. And after all the shit you’d dealt with this week, you couldn’t handle any more rejection.

Maybe you should just turn around and get out of here while you still have the chance.

But as that thought crossed your mind, you spotted Eddie’s van in front of one of the trailers, and your heart rate sped up to a frankly concerning pace. Shit, it was now or never. Turn back around and head home or face Eddie and his possible rejection. Frankly, both options sounded fucking awful.

For a few long moments, you simply lingered on the road, staring at Eddie’s trailer as your heart drummed in your chest; your eyes roved over the illuminated windows, half expecting to see Eddie’s silhouette appear in one of them any second now. But when no visual indicator of him appeared, you shook yourself back to the present, pulling up alongside his van with the brief thought that maybe he saw your headlights. You hesitated at that, waiting yet again to see if he’d appear in the window or at the door. Fuck, if you were going to be this nervous, you might as well just get out of here.

But you knew you couldn’t do that. You knew you had to talk to Eddie again, you had to have at least one decent relationship in your life right now. Considering that he was the closest thing you had to a friend at the moment, you had to make amends with him. Not that Eddie owed you any forgiveness, of course - again, the fear that he’d want nothing to do with you came creeping back up, even as you pulled the keys from the ignition and slowly stepped out of the car.

Fuck, what were you going to do if Eddie didn’t want to talk? You didn’t think you could manage to survive the rest of the week if he didn’t forgive you. Despite trying to ignore the thought, in a way you realized that right now you needed Eddie.

This shit better work.

You felt almost shaky as you approached the front door, hearing thrashing metal music reverberating inside the trailer. You had to take another pause at the door to collect yourself - you were not nervous like this, and you refused to appear this nervous in front of anyone. You were here to apologize, not to be vulnerable. So, you pulled yourself together with a few deep breaths, marching up to the door and knocking strongly before you could think to hesitate any longer. Considering how loud the music was, you realized Eddie probably didn't hear you, so you roughly pounded your fist against the door once again. You put on a brave face, taking one more deep breath as the music quieted and someone approached the door.

Of course, once you and Eddie locked eyes, you suddenly froze. All the things you’d rehearsed on the way over here momentarily left your head as you took in his surprised expression, the look in his eyes that suggested you were the last person he expected to see on his doorstep. For what felt like hours, the two of you stared at one another as you attempted to collect your thoughts, attempted to keep all your hurt from showing on your face.

You eventually had to rip your eyes away from Eddie, maybe then you could finally find your voice again. As you stared at his feet, you straightened out your back and clenched your jaw, trying to quiet your mind and get out at least one coherent thought. With a deep breath, you flicked your gaze back to his face.

“Can we talk?” Your voice came out strong, if not a little cold - good, at least you didn’t sound as weak as you’d been feeling recently.

Eddie’s expression was still a little taken aback, even as he tried to put on a calm, collected air. Had you not caught him so off guard, perhaps you would’ve been fooled by the lazy smirk he gave you or his seemingly relaxed posture. But given the look of near astonishment that was on his face only a moment prior, you knew he was probably just as unprepared for this conversation as you were.

“Well, since you drove all the way here…” Eddie trailed off in what was meant to be a casual tone, stepping to the side and nodding his head towards the trailer behind him. You looked between his eyes and the entryway for a moment before stepping up into his home, immediately taking it all in attentively - it was easier to focus on your surroundings than to focus on him and your emotions.

You weren’t sure what you had expected of Eddie’s home, but as you stood in his small living room, everything appeared exactly as it should have - the place was cozy, decorated with items that were clearly personal, reflecting the taste of someone so unlike your own family. Back in your own home, the art on the wall was perfectly curated by your mother, the only photos being staged family portraits; the furniture was also meticulously decided on, meant to look cohesive and clean and modern.

Here in the Munson trailer, the space actually felt lived in - the coffee table was stacked with car magazines and western paperbacks, the walls adorned with collections of hats and mugs. The furniture was worn from years of use, the kitchen was cluttered, a fold out bed was pushed off to one side - yes, this home actually had life to it, unlike the stale living environment you were so used to. Without having met the man, you already had a strong sense of Eddie’s uncle just by looking around the place.

The more you looked at the Munson home, the more your curiosity grew - you wanted to ask more about Eddie and his uncle and all the little details that made them a family. But before you could get to know any more about Eddie, first you had to actually make things right with him. So, you turned your attention back to him, briefly catching the self-conscious look on his face that he very quickly corrected - did he feel judged, having you in his home like this? Was he worried what you’d think now that you had this more intimate glimpse at his life?

The two of you stared at one another for a few long moments; Eddie was clearly anticipating what you’d say next, and you were still trying to decide where exactly to start. You raised a brow as you let out a breath, forcing yourself to look away again so you could actually speak - looking Eddie in the eye like this made it harder to apologize.

“I shouldn’t have acted like that.” You started, letting your gaze continue to roam over trinkets and decor in the living room. Off to your side, you heard Eddie hum in acknowledgement instead of saying anything, which seemed to be your cue to continue. You sighed a little, forcing yourself to be honest, hard as it may be; your voice was a touch quieter as you added, “You didn’t deserve that shit.”

“No, I didn’t.” Eddie responded with a hint of harshness to his tone, but considering the circumstances, he didn’t sound nearly as mad as you’d expected. You slowly spun around, looking anywhere but his direction so your words would come more easily.

“I… like having you around.” The sentence sounded juvenile to your ears, but you simply continued, “I know all I wanted was to stir shit up and be left alone, but the past couple days--”

You had to cut yourself off, suddenly feeling a sadness well up in your throat - you were not about to break, not right now, not in front of Eddie. So, you swallowed hard and tried to calm down before he could see the chink in your armor.

“Not so fun being on the other side of things, huh?” Eddie chimed in, saving you from yourself with his comment. You turned to him with a nod, hoping your eyes didn’t give too much away.

“Fucking sucks, actually.” You managed a small, sad smile. It looked as if Eddie, too, wanted to mirror the expression, but he kept it to himself. You took in his posture, his crossed arms and guarded look, hoping that you were getting through to him.

You let out a sigh, your gaze drifting down to the floor as you struggled to find your words. God, being sincere shouldn’t be so damn hard, but you were never one to admit your faults, never the type to open up easily. Despite your usual confidence and brashness, you couldn’t even seem to form proper sentences right now.

“I forgive you.” Those three simple words drew a surprised look from you, to which Eddie shrugged as he continued, looking away with a coolness that surely had to be for show, “Your apology could use some work, seeing as you couldn’t even say ‘sorry,’ but you were forgiven the second I opened that door.”

That last statement was shockingly honest and somehow a touch too vulnerable for your liking - it made you nervous, and you couldn’t say why. Was Eddie just being hyperbolic, saying that to make you feel better? Or was it the truth, could he have possibly been willing to forgive you just like that simply because you showed up on his doorstep? Both of those ideas made you apprehensive in vastly different ways.

With a quick shake of your head, you tried to pull yourself together, straightening your shoulders and wiping the vulnerable look from your face. You met Eddie’s kind eyes with as much coolness as you could muster, hoping it wasn’t too obvious that you were relieved with how this conversation had gone. There was a glint of amusement in Eddie’s face as he watched you, as if he knew exactly what was going through your head, as if he knew your calm demeanor was all for show.

Eddie looked down, rubbing the back of his neck as he spoke, “So long as you don’t drag me to that stupid homecoming, we’ll be alright.”

You couldn’t help but scoff and roll your eyes at the suggestion, thankful that Eddie made the effort to break the tension in the room - you were done trying to be vulnerable, and it seemed that he could sense that, too.

“As if I’d let myself be the Carrie White of their shitty joke.” You gave Eddie a playful glance, catching the way his brow furrowed.

“Carrie, huh?”

You also gave him a look, “Yeah, you know - telekinetic chick who killed everyone at prom?”

The smile that graced Eddie’s lips was nearly infectious as he laughed with a shake of his head, “Oh, I know Carrie, I’m just surprised that you do - you don’t seem the horror type.”

You cross your arms teasingly - it was so easy to fall back into this pattern with Eddie, easy to bounce off each other. Admittedly, you missed it.

“There’s still a lot you don’t know about me.” You counter with a small smirk, to which Eddie gave you a challenging look.

“Well, it would help if you opened up a little more, princess.” The nickname rolled off Eddie’s tongue with ease, and it was a relief to hear it - that had to mean you really were forgiven, that he hadn't just said so to make you feel better. Even still, you narrowed your eyes, prompting Eddie to continue in his defense, “I know nothing about your hobbies, but you know practically all of mine.”

You looked him up and down once, “You know that I skate.”

Eddie rolled his eyes teasingly, although he sounded deathly serious as he said, “There’s clearly more to you than that.”

The sincerity in Eddie’s tone juxtaposed his playful look, giving you pause, making you nervous. You answered simply and with a dismissive shrug, hoping it didn't lead into some deeper conversation, “Guess that makes you the first person to notice.”

You turned away from Eddie to continue looking around, taking in the room as you debated whether or not you’d elaborate on your interests. Considering that Eddie made a good point about not knowing you well, you caved - after all, did you want him as a friend or not?

“I love horror movies.” You take a few steps towards a shelf filled with videos and cassettes, your eyes slowly looking over the titles, “Books, too, but the movies are way scarier, so they’re more fun.”

A few familiar horror titles sat on the shelf, causing you to grin and glance back at Eddie, who seemed to be watching you attentively. Realizing he was caught staring, he quickly righted himself and met your gaze, his curious smile growing. You could see in his face that questions were forming, that he probably wanted to ask what you liked about horror or what movie was your favorite. Expectantly, you turned to face him with an eager raise of your brow.

Eddie looked between your eyes for a moment as if he wasn’t sure what to say first, finally nudging his chin towards the VHS collection on the shelf, “You pick a movie, I’ll order us a pizza?”

You couldn’t help but be surprised at the suggestion - for two days you didn’t speak a word to each other, but again you were reminded of just how effortless it was to go back to the way things were. You smiled in appreciation for Eddie’s ability to make anything easy like this.

As much as you loved the idea, you hesitated, “It’s getting kinda late…”

Eddie waved it off before you could say anything else, “So? My uncle won’t be back for hours, and I don’t think either of us has anything better going on.”

So, you nodded, eagerly turning your attention back to the small collection of movies on the shelf - you wondered which ones were Eddie’s and which were his uncle’s. Quickly, you settled on a movie that you were excited to see there, grabbing it from the shelf and spinning to face Eddie as he dialed the nearest pizza place. You felt like an excited child as you held up Videodrome for him to see. Again, Eddie appeared surprised, but didn’t get the chance to comment as he was greeted by someone on the other end of the call. He probably wouldn’t have guessed Cronenberg to be your taste in horror.

With the pizza ordered and the movie loaded into the VCR, you and Eddie settled on opposite ends of the couch. Within a minute of the movie starting, however, you couldn’t help yourself as you began to eagerly go on and on about how technically impressive the effects in this movie were. You weren’t sure how long you went on for, but after a while you realized you were going on a tangent, cutting yourself off as you looked at Eddie for the inevitable judgment to come. You’d grown used to your friends rolling their eyes or your mom telling you to stop talking about disgusting horror movies, but Eddie looked so… attentive? So interested to listen to what you were saying?

You looked back at the screen almost sheepishly, but you could still feel the burn of Eddie’s eyes watching you.

“You’re kind of a nerd.” He said with far too much glee, causing you to whip your mean gaze back to him; Eddie was smiling from ear-to-ear, clearly pleased with himself and his discovery of your hidden interest.

“I am not.” You scoff, trying not to grin back at him. Eddie leaned across the couch as if to emphasize his taunting, his eyes challenging as he stared at you.

“You just spent five minutes talking about how much you love to watch a fake head blow up - seems kinda nerdy.”

It felt as if no rift had ever formed between you two, as if you hadn’t just been awkwardly trying to apologize to him some fifteen minutes ago. Eddie just made it ridiculously easy to relax, to forget all the bullshit from the past few days.

You gave Eddie’s shoulder a playful shove, so he sat back up in his seat, that wicked grin still on his face, “What, don’t want to be lumped in with the rest of us?”

Despite trying to give Eddie a threatening look, you knew your eyes were betraying you - all of the menace in your expression was destroyed by the way your eyes blatantly shone with amusement. You had to look away again, otherwise you feared you might laugh.

“Liking horror doesn’t make me a nerd.” You insisted.

“No, but considering you made a whole speech about how impactful Cronenberg’s use of gore is, I wouldn’t call you a casual fan.” Eddie teased, and even without looking you knew just how big his grin was.

So, you kept your eyes trained on the screen, hoping to become absorbed in the movie as you tried to ignore the way Eddie was studying you. And it worked for at least a few minutes - you began to smile at the familiar film, attentively following the story development, all the while slowly forgetting about the eyes practically burning a hole in your skull.

But in his typical fashion, Eddie couldn’t stay quiet for too long.

“Jason Voorhees or Michael Myers?”

Without missing a beat, you looked back at Eddie, unable to hold your tongue on the debate. Your tone was perhaps a little snobby as you answered, “Michael, obviously.”

Again, Eddie grinned largely with a challenge in his eye, “‘Obviously?’”

Of course, you knew what he was doing - he was clearly trying to poke at you, but damn it, it was working. You couldn’t resist the opportunity to talk about movie slashers to a captive audience, even if said audience was likely going to keep egging you on.

You rolled your eyes, folding your legs up on the couch as you turned your body towards Eddie, “Jason isn’t scary.”

“Not scary? He and Michael are basically the same guy.” You pulled a face at the comment, noticing that Eddie seemed pleased with himself for getting you going on the subject.

“And I guess you think they’re also just like Bubba?” Eddie grinned wickedly, so you quickly reached over to smack his shoulder, “Don’t you dare say it.”

“Say what?”

You narrowed your eyes, torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to debate your point. You took a deep breath before looking back towards the movie, “Michael is better, end of conversation.”

“I’m more of a Freddy guy myself.” Eddie taunts, clearly not done tormenting you. You shot him a look from the corner of your eye, but didn’t dare give him the satisfaction of a response, trying to keep your attention on the movie instead. A minute later, Eddie chimed up again, “The Exorcist or the Omen?”

To that, you didn’t have as quick an answer, mulling it over for a moment before replying - when you answered with the Exorcist, Eddie couldn’t help but say that response was predictable.

So, it led you down the rabbit hole, Videodrome being totally forgotten in favor of debating your horror opinions. For every answer to Eddie’s questions, he had a counterargument - it didn’t matter whether or not you two agreed on something, he clearly just wanted to get you riled up. Maybe he enjoyed seeing you get excited about something, maybe he enjoyed the way you’d argue your case on characters you loved and hated.

When the pizza arrived, you raced Eddie to the door, paying for the food despite his protests, the pair of you clearly annoying the delivery driver who didn’t give a shit where the money came from so long as he got it. All through your meal, you two continued talking over the movie, which eventually reached its end and prompted Eddie to start playing another that you also wouldn’t pay any attention to.

As the night wore on, your debates eventually died down; your seat on the couch became increasingly more comfortable, and the shitty horror movie you had on was beginning to lull you to sleep. Considering how long your day - no, your whole week - had been, you were surprised it took this long for your exhaustion to set in. So, you slowly settled into the couch, progressively slumping into the cushions.

Seeing the tired look on your face, Eddie nudged you and insisted you lie down, and you were tired enough not to argue, resting on your side so you can continue watching the movie. You keep your legs curled up to avoid getting in Eddie’s space, but nonetheless your knees rest comfortable against his thigh. At some point between half awake and half asleep, you thought that maybe you felt his hand resting comfortably on your leg, but you were too tired to say for sure.

As the night wore on, you must have inevitably fallen asleep, because next thing you knew, you were being pulled out of a dream, a hand gently shaking your shoulder and Eddie’s far off voice encouraging you to wake up. You figured at first that the voice was just a part of your dream, but as the tone grew more clear and insistent, you were brought back to reality. Groggily, you blinked your eyes open with a confused glare - how long had you been out for? And what time was it?

Catching your eyes with his, the corner of Eddie’s mouth pulled back in a small grin, “Jesus, you sleep like the dead.”

A tired moan rumbled in your throat as your eyes narrowed. You tried to roll onto your other side as if you could somehow avoid Eddie that way, your words nonthreatening and heavy with sleep, “Fuck off…”

As Eddie sighed with annoyance, an unfamiliar huff of a laugh met your ears, but you weren’t nearly awake enough to even wonder who it belonged to. Eddie pulled at your shoulder so you couldn’t turn away from him, to which you whined again.

“No, you’re not sleeping on the couch, it’ll ruin your back.” Eddie insisted, teasingly pulling at your arm - if you weren’t still half asleep, it wouldn’t have annoyed you nearly as much as it did, “Come on, get up.”

You opened your harsh eyes again, knowing Eddie wouldn’t allow himself to be ignored. As your eyes adjusted, his face slowly came into focus, his hair haloed by the light of the TV; kneeling beside you, he was clearly trying to hide the amusement he found in your sleepy attitude.

The two of you stared at one another for a long minute as the fog slowly lifted from your brain, making you more and more aware of your surroundings. Your gaze drifted away from Eddie, noticing movement in the corner of your eye; turning in the direction of it, you made eye contact with a man who had to have been Eddie’s uncle. He quickly turned away, pretending to be preoccupied with something in the kitchen, as if that would give you and Eddie a measly sense of privacy.

With a deep yawn, you looked at Eddie again, begrudgingly accepting that you had to get up. You slowly rose into a seated position, your feet brushing Eddie’s leg as you moved to set them on the ground; he rose and took a step back to give you a little more space. Stretching your arms above your head and popping your neck, you looked between the two men, noticing that Eddie seemed to be somewhat sheepish, which made you curious. Was he embarrassed that this was how you and his uncle were meeting? Was it because he felt like you two were caught doing something wrong? Or was it something else entirely that influenced that expression on his face?

You sighed heavily as you rose to your feet, your face scrunching up a little as you looked around the room; your voice was still heavy with sleep as you asked, “What time is it? I have to go home.”

Eddie shook his head at the same moment that his uncle silently disappeared to the bathroom, the sound of the shower running drifting out from under the door; maybe he was trying to give you two a bit more privacy.

“You don’t have to go.” Eddie says in a surprisingly gentle tone, to which you furrow your brow, “It’s late and you're exhausted - just stay here tonight.”

You weakly tried to protest, although you were so tired that it was a relief to hear that Eddie wasn’t kicking you out in the wee hours of the morning, “I really shouldn’t.”

“You really should.” Eddie insisted, clearly not open to argument. Luckily for him, you accepted the response instantly, your head still too foggy to find a good enough reason to leave. So, you nod smally while trying to stifle another yawn.

Eddie points his hand in the direction of the bedroom, and you immediately accept the invitation, confidently heading that way as if you owned the damn place. You didn’t catch the tug of a smile that graced Eddie’s lips as he followed just a step behind you.

You entered the dark bedroom and all but collapsed onto the bed, hearing a slight laugh leave Eddie’s lips; at least he found it funny instead of rude, not that you were terribly concerned with that right now. No, the only thing on your mind at the moment was curling into the mattress and sleeping undisturbed for the rest of the night. You comfortably wrapped your arms around one of Eddie’s pillows, inhaling his lingering scent without considering what you were doing. 

“You gonna sleep in that?” Eddie teased, reminding you that you were still in the workout clothes that you wore for skating. Like a stubborn child unwilling to do a task, you grunted, sitting back up and trying to find Eddie in the dark. You caught his silhouette digging through what you assumed to be a pile of clothes, eventually pulling something out and tossing it in your direction. The t-shirt weakly hit you in the chest before falling into your lap, so you started to pull off your own soiled shirt, letting it fall forgotten somewhere on the floor.

Light still filtered into the room through the gap in the door, so you caught the way Eddie spun around to give you privacy just as you started to tug at your bra; you couldn’t help but smile, finding it funny as he pushed the door closed. After all, it was dark enough that he probably couldn’t see anything; and even if he could, it didn’t matter. Right?

Eddie kept himself preoccupied, returning his attention to the stack of clothes as you pulled his scratchy t-shirt over your head; thanks to the darkness of the room, you didn’t catch the way he glanced back at you curiously. Once you were comfortable, you lied back down and began to burrow in the blankets, pulling them over your head as you listened to Eddie strip out of his own clothes.

A few moments later, one of the blankets was being yanked from the bed; you greedily tried to grab it before it was gone, but to no avail, which prompted you to poke your head out from the cocoon you’d built. You couldn’t quite find Eddie in the dark, but you nonetheless furrowed your brow in the direction you figured he was in.

“What are you doing?” You questioned groggily as your eyes began to adjust; you could now make out Eddie’s shadow as he appeared to turn to you.

“Sleeping on the floor.” He answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, nudging things aside with his foot before dropping the blanket to the ground. As he leaned over the bed to grab a pillow, you rolled your eyes and reached out to nudge him, making contact with bare skin before shuffling over to make room on the small bed.

“Like hell you are.” You attempted to snuggle into your new position, but seeing Eddie awkwardly lingering prompted you to reach over and give his arm a quick tug, “Get the fuck in the bed, Munson.”

Eddie hesitated a moment longer, and although he couldn’t see it, you stared at him in amused scrutiny. With a huff, you threw aside the blankets and hit the mattress once for emphasis, “Don’t tell me you’re nervous to share a bed with a girl.”

You readjusted to face away from Eddie, wrapping your arms around your pillow again and burying your face in it, getting cozy almost instantly. Behind you, he sighed before his weight shifted the mattress; just from the feel of his movements, you knew Eddie was awkwardly trying to stay as close to the edge of the bed as possible. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes with a smile at how stiff he was - at this rate, he wasn’t going to get a wink of sleep.

“Stop worrying about it, Eddie.” You muttered gently, curling up in the blankets as if you were a cat lying in the sun. A big yawn escaped you as you felt Eddie shift a little, and you knew you’d be out like a light any minute now, “Try to get some sleep, okay?”Eddie hummed in acknowledgement, and despite his best efforts to keep his distance, you could still feel his body heat radiating near you. Smiling comfortably to yourself, you quickly began to doze off, barely catching Eddie’s whispered “Night, princess…” before you fell back into a deep sleep.

.

.

additional a/n: I couldn't keep these two apart for even an entire chapter, so I hope their lil reconciliation was worth the wait!

taglist: @3rd-conchord @a-queen-blr @avalon-wolf @costellation-hunter @daisy-munson

@daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie @damp4eddie @delilaaahhh @em0220

@frogtape @fromasgardandback @fckyeahlames @graciehams @kthomps914

@lotrefcp @love-anonymous-writer @marrowfrog00 @maskofmirrors @mewchiili

@miaajaade @mmmunson @munsonssweets @no-bueno-writer @rach5ive

@rcailleachcola @sav12321 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @steeldaisies @stormgrl19

[britcision]

AND HERE WE ARE! Totally getting this out in February well done team! And this is gonna be our last chapter before a wee teeny tiny time skip and Jason’s finished core! What a beautiful day 🥰

We’re getting another two-parter too, because Danny and Jason refused to let me get to the end of this lil introductory arc without at least one more pile of abject fluff! But finally, we’re ready to begin the plot!

Once again, the link to the AO3 version is in the first chapter and the 15th chapter; you can see it in the text for the link if you wanna subscribe to be told when it updates 😁

First Chapter:

Previous Chapter:

——————

So That Just Happened part 1

Back in her own room on the other side of the country from Gotham, Sam Manson reclined back into giant, coffin shaped body pillow her beloved girlfriend had given her when they moved and contemplated her phone.

The brand new Wayne-chat was blowing up satisfactorily, although apparently Tim was a massive stalker too. That was probably a good thing; it meant she hadn’t actually nuked Tuck’s chances with his nerd-crush. Now they could bond over their mutual stalker tendencies.

But, did that make her revenge less effective?

It wasn’t like she was actually out to ruin his life, but she’d kinda like to leave a mark. Something that would make him think twice about letting her think he and Danny had fucking died in Gotham in her absence.

Or. Well. Gone radio silent in Gotham, which was probably actually worse because if they were dead she’d know exactly where they were.

The Wayne chat were all pretty sure Tim and Tucker were together too, and Sam’s new best friend Babs had even pulled up the feed from their living room tv somehow. Sam wasn’t exactly the tech wizard Tucker was, but… after seeing that, she disconnected her and Val’s TV from the wifi.

And settled in to remote watch Tuck get his ass kicked at Spiderheck, apparently. At least for a little while; until something else on her phone caught her attention.

It was… almost funny. While she knew she was a whole three timezones away, she’d never really felt left out before. Like maybe she should have stayed on the east coast…

Not that she regretted it, of course. She had a good job, a good school, a wonderful girlfriend who’d been so excited to get into a good school and really go to town on the business department.

(Apparently there were posters of Val’s face in the ethics classrooms. Sam refused to ask if they were golden example or dire warning.)

She was just… a long way away. Even a long portal away, and… being back with the guys, even in Gotham, made the quiet of their comfy little apartment seem lonely.

Huffing, she turned and traced her fingers through the leaves of her mimosa plant on the windowsill beside the bed. They curled gently shut at her touch, and made her smile. Just like always.

She was happy to be home. She wasn’t technically liminal enough yet that it was her haunt, but… well, for all the jokes Val made, Sam had to admit she’d put down roots. She loved her job at the greenhouses, and her internship at the botanical gardens.

She loved scaring the hell out of the dudebros in Val’s business classes who thought ethics were a waste of time. She loved sharing messages with Jazz about the boys, laughing that even three hours ahead, Tuck and Danny still couldn’t get up before them.

She was kinda considering texting Harley about Timblr too. Not like, for any particular reason; if Tim’s family weren’t gonna embarrass Tucker enough, Harley probably wouldn’t either. She’d probably think it was adorable.

Or, y’know, worrying evidence of obsession. Psych types worried about stuff like that, usually.

Sam was kinda also considering sending Harley Jazz’s number. Jazz might still be skating just on the neurosurgery side of the line, but she’d always been big into psychology. Big enough to try and triple major, and only drop to major-major-minor after the third pre-exam meltdown.

And she could use having someone else do the shrink bit on her a little more often. Although really, for that Sam should make her a professional appointment; friends didn’t ask friends to psychoanalyze their overprotective pseudo-sisters. And Jazz could use more friends.

Jazz could use a transfer to a specialty that would let her sleep once in a while, a more stable supply of fresh ecto, and about six weeks in a meditation retreat to get the accidental telepathy under control, but more friends would be good too. And less stubborn insistence on her second try for double majors.

Maybe the switch to psychiatry full time would be good for her? Or psychology. Sam was a little fuzzy on the difference, which one Jazz was currently still minoring in, and which one Harley did.

(Jazz’s current second major was neurosurgery, which Jazz insisted was totally less taxing alongside a neurology major because it was the same body part. She was the only person in her class attempting the double major though, so.)

Humming tunelessly to herself, Sam flicked back into the group chat. Babs was still sharing the feed… brows drawing in, Sam frowned at the little spider figures still fighting to the death. Now, she wasn’t as big of a gamer as she used to be, but she was pretty sure Spiderheck didn’t actually offer red berets.

Snorting a laugh, she flicked back out of the chat and opened a new one, adding both Jazz and Harley. All it needed was the perfect name… something that would grab both of their attention.

Obvious. Child’s play.

Snuggling back into her coffin pillow, Sam grinned down at her phone screen.

Danny Has A Boyfriend chat was live.

**

Having eight legs wasn’t exactly the same as suddenly having four new ones, or two new legs and two new arms. While the first two were definitely functioning as “hands”, being the ones to pick up and use all of the weapons, Tim had quickly learned that he could grip with any of the eight “feet” that were available.

Yeah, spinning a laser staff all the way down one side of his body and up the other was fucking cool.

He’d adjusted pretty quickly during their “practice” round, while they all got used to the web slinging and worked out how to open the boxes and use the weapons.

(Tucker had swung himself into the lava by accident, so they’d started a second round.)

Tim felt pretty much ready to go, although if he was honest with himself… his only actual complaint was that he didn’t have a camera.

Conner had asked Tuck at the start of their second round if his powers had been nerfed to make it “fair”. Tucker, sweet innocent Tucker, had managed to convey a sidelong look even looking at even without a face on their little blob bodies and said he didn’t think Conner needed a nerf.

He just needed to understand how the powers worked, and they could be incorporated into the system. Which, well, was like catnip for Conner.

At least Tucker seemed a lot less flustered about talking to him while they were both spiders, because Conner had started talking his ear off about TTK and hadn’t stopped since.

Tim was kinda considering swinging over and taking them both out, just to get the game moving. But Conner was cute when he got really into something, and being a headless little spider body did not seem to have changed that.

He spent the time practicing with the webs instead, spinning and tossing himself around the map. It was pretty similar to using a grapple, although he wasn’t exactly sure whether or not the web was coming from his own body.

If it was, it was coming from inside a foot, which wasn’t how actual spiders worked… but Tim was pretty sure that was on Spiderheck, not Tucker.

Being able to run around upside down was the biggest change for him, and pretty cool. Tim scuttled around under a couple of the higher platforms for a while, planning his strategy.

Honestly, he was pretty sure TTK was going to wind up fucking Conner over rather than making anything easier for him. You’d think that flying would be an advantage in Spiderheck, at least as far as avoiding lava or an out of bounds, but Tim knew pretty explicitly how far it took Conner to stop.

It wasn’t exactly on a dime, and in this game? The pace didn’t exactly allow for imprecision.

And they were wasting time talking about it rather than getting used to having an extra six hand-feet.

Still upside down, Tim twisted until he could see the other two spiders. Which was when he learned that… they did kinda have their faces on them. Just, instead of being in a face position, on the front of his body that he was seeing out of, it was just sorta… plastered across the body.

Like a photo skin mapped onto a flat blob.

He considered letting the other two know; if anyone walked into the room, they’d probably be able to see their little faces on the screen. If they were just standing around talking.

Also, the pictures’ mouths weren’t moving, which hadn’t been weird when Tim was listening to them talk and didn’t think they had mouths. Kinda was to look down on Conner’s smiling face and hear his voice at a mile a minute.

Tucker probably already knew, and might have done the faces on purpose? And if he hadn’t, it was gonna be pretty funny to see what happened when he noticed.

He’d gotten progressively better at actually talking to Conner the longer he wasn’t actually looking at him, and the focus being on the game had helped too. Face in the game? Probably gonna throw him again.

And it was probably time to get things actually moving, so he could enjoy that.

Humming softly to himself, Tim scuttled across to the loot crates, found himself a double ended lightsabre, and dropped down on Tucker and Conner’s heads.

**

“Sooooooo…” Danny clapped his hands, doing his best to make his broad grin at least look a little innocent as he floated sideways into Jason’s field of view, “not that that wasn’t adorable and dramatic and everything, super touching, buuuut…?”

He almost laughed as Jason jumped, having apparently forgotten Danny was there for a hot second, then pulled his hand back from Lady Gotham’s to glare at him. The Lady herself didn’t bother hiding her chuckle, settling back to recline once more on a cloud of smog.

“Was there something you needed, Phantom?” She asked with a dry amusement.

Danny shrugged innocently, sticking his hands in his spectral pockets. Much more dangerous than regular pockets, but he’d not been doing more than blob wrangling lately.

“Not so much what I need, just, y’know, trying to keep things on track. I dunno if you’ve got other plans for the night Jay, but we were with Frostbite for a while and if you did…” he trailed off, and Jason grimaced.

“Not what you’d call set plans, but…” Jason trailed off as well, and Danny could feel the guilt even before it tried creeping in.

Nope, not having that. He’d almost talked himself into that bullshit already tonight, none for Jason. He nodded airily, floating up to drape an arm over the larger man’s shoulder.

“All I’ve gotta do is get to bed before midnight, so I’m not rushing now that Tucker’s found himself a new ride.” Waggled eyebrows punctuated that comment with enough emphasis that Jason snickered, darker feelings pushed aside without finding purchase.

“What, you don’t wanna go watch that train wreck in person?” Jason teased with a lopsided half smile.

Danny pulled a face, both at the thought of Tucker’s goddamn disastrous attempts at flirting and… well, the possibility of running into Bruce again. Maybe Constantine.

Danny was maaaaaybe kinda avoiding the wizard since he’d started collecting the other contracts on his soul; it wasn’t like he wanted them for nefarious purposes, it was just fucking weird. He didn’t like owning people. Not even overgrown Sour Patch Kids in trench coats.

(At least Constantine was still alive though. Those unlucky souls who died still bound to Pariah damn near went through a full reboot. No memories, no personality, none of what Danny would have thought of as like, the core components of a soul.

So far nothing anyone had done had been able to help them, and Danny had a nasty feeling the final answer would be Ending them. The Observants didn’t want to, they were perfectly happy with a thrall army so long as they controlled it, but Danny was firm.

No slaves, no thralls. If the only way he could free them was through a final and permanent death… he would.

But Clockwork was still looking, and so long as the ancient of time thought there might be a way… Danny held out hope too.)

For now, he shook his head quickly, holding up both hands.

“No way man. Bruce already hates my guts, I’m gonna keep a healthy distance.”

For both their sakes, really. Jason’s mood every time Bruce had spoken to him today kinda proved he hadn’t listened to Danny’s advice and stepped up. Not that Danny had exactly expected him to; again, hated his guts.

Jason pulled a face but didn’t bother to argue; he’d probably rather not actually deal with the old man for a third time either. Instead he just shrugged, turning his attention back to Lady Gotham.

“Do you know what time it is in Gotham now, my lady?” He asked, and the really weird thing was that it didn’t actually sound weird.

Danny always felt awkward and formal whenever he tried to address a ghost by their title, and Lady Gotham was the very worst because she never bothered to hide when she was laughing at him. Which was, y’know, every time he said it.

(He wasn’t gonna just call her “Gotham” though. That would be worse, so he just sucked it up.)

On Jason’s lips, words like “my lady” just sounded right. Danny flashed back for a moment to snow in a graveyard, and Jason knelt before him quoting Shakespeare. There was something in Jason that was just made for flowery language and dramatic proclamations.

Lady Gotham clearly agreed, bestowing a fond smile upon Jason before inclining her head back for a moment, those red on black eyes glowing suddenly brighter. Looking into the living world, or right up Clockwork’s ass?

“It’s coming to ten o’clock,” she said softly, something almost like regret in her tone. The smile that she turned back to them was softer, sadder.

Danny’d feel bad about being the one to point it out, except, yeah. He’d had to. Ghosts in general didn’t exactly think about time. It was a problem for the living, so - him. And Jason.

Who didn’t seem nearly so sorry with the answer. He nodded, fingers beginning to drum against his thigh.

“Time for a few more questions, then.” That wasn’t a question, and if Danny was completely insensate or possibly locked in a sensory deprivation tank he might have warned Jason about talking to a powerful spirit like that.

It’d need to be a damn good tank for him to miss all the signs though; Jason was so in the good books. Lady Gotham just smiled and nodded, gesturing once more with her traffic cone.

“Of course. And, of course, we will have plenty of other opportunities to speak. I may spend much of my time here, but now that we have been introduced… I can also speak to you there, if you would like?”

It was a delicate question, and Danny hesitated, suddenly wondering if he should… well, elaborate again.

“Uh… yeah, sure? I’d like that?” Jason asked, clearly confused by the reticence, and that made up Danny’s mind.

“She’s not going to sound the same,” he explained quickly, giving Lady Gotham a quick smile. She smiled back, gesturing for him to continue, because none of the damn older ghosts explained shit for themselves.

Danny totally didn’t roll his eyes.

“Like, the way we talk to her in the Infinite Realms is kinda the abstract? She looks kinda human,” he added, gesturing vaguely at the Lady.

Jason’s brows furrowed for a moment, but he felt more curious than concerned.

“So… she’s an anthropomorphic personification, but not in the living world?” He asked, and Danny’s eyes nearly crossed.

He turned to Lady Gotham, hoping that this might be some weird city slang, and she laughed at him. Again.

“Yes,” she agreed with Jason instead, which absolutely did not help. “It’s easier for me to speak with you here, using eyes and ears like your own. But building and maintaining this shape in the living world is… complicated.”

“Because her real body there is the city,” Danny added, privately resolving to ask Sam what the fuck Jason was talking about later.

Honestly, Jason would probably get along real good with Mr Lancer. They both liked weird words.

At least he actually looked a little confused too now; Danny had freaked the first time Lady Gotham talked to him out in the city itself. He gave Jason a consoling pat on the shoulder.

“You’ve gotta see it to believe it, man. Just… it’s gonna be weird.” Not the most helpful, sure, but Danny was doing his best!

Jason nodded slowly, willing to table it for now, and refocused on Lady Gotham, something darker now welling in the purpose building inside him.

“So you said the Joker wasn’t from the Curse,” he said bluntly. Danny flinched, more from the lack of any aura inflection than the remnants he could feel.

Yeah, a lotta Gothamites hated the Joker specifically, but if Danny had even the faintest doubt of who’d killed Jason… the black, leaden lump of Death in Jason’s aura wiped it out.

Lady Gotham stilled too, her own smile fading as she regarded Jason. Those red and black eyes were suddenly so much older, so much sadder.

“Yes,” she agreed softly, lowering her traffic cone to rest at her hip. “Are you sure?”

‘Are you sure you want to know?’

Or ‘Are you sure you want to know now?’

Danny wouldn’t put money on which she’d intended, but it didn’t take a genius to know the answer to both. Stubborn, emotionally repressed, and self destructive as hell, bat-training only left one answer.

Jason nodded firmly now, his jaw clenching.

“Yes.”

Lady Gotham studied him for a moment longer but didn’t argue, inclining her head gently.

“Then I will be brief. While the Curse has always been part of the city, feeding on fear and despair, in recent years we have both felt… something else. I told you of the malevolence on the land?” She asked, and Jason made a soft, impatient noise.

“And that it’s where the Curse comes from, yeah. And that the Joker is different,” he prodded.

Danny made a face. He was usually very much on the side of blunt answers, and knew full well that the Lady wouldn’t actually like, break Jason for being mouthy. He was very, very used to seeing favouritism from the outside, and Jason was clearly a firm favourite.

Maybe because he was currently Gotham’s only actual part ghost child? (To be fair, Danny didn’t think that’d change much in the fullness of time; Jason was his favourite of all the bats alive or dead.)

Whatever it was, his interruption only brought a flicker of a smile to the Lady’s lips, which vanished just as quickly.

“Yes. The Curse is indeed the original manifestation of that malevolence, given form and now, purpose. But even that malevolence came from somewhere; Gotham lies on a crack between worlds, older than time. Every world in the multiverse exist along certain markers; certain weak spots. Gotham is one of them.”

“Of course it is,” Jason grumbled beside him and Danny shifted closer, brushing their shoulders together.

Personally, he figured that if Gotham was a weak point in the universe and all the bad shit just leaked through, they were probably doing pretty well for themselves. Then, he’d seen the depths of the Ghost Zone; he knew what else could be trying to leak through.

Which, obviously, meant the good luck had to end.

“When the Joker died,” Lady Gotham continued, only to be cut off by a startled “What?!” from Jason and a totally-super-dignified squawk from Danny.

“You are not gonna tell me that asshole’s a ghost!” Danny moaned, dragging his hands down his face. Honestly, if he’d missed a whole actual ghost in the city for an entire year too, he was never going to live it down.

Like any of the other ghosts had any fucking clue what it was like being half alive… or living fully inside a city spirit’s haunt. Let them visit Lady Gotham’s and see what they sensed.

“Who the hell killed the Joker?!” Jason demanded, something weirdly like panic spiking through anger. “It wasn’t fucking Bruce-”

Lady Gotham silenced them both with a pointed look, shadows growing suddenly long and dark under her stare. Then she returned her gaze to Jason, her expression sombre.

“The Joker is not a ghost, nor a halfa. Bruce Wayne resuscitated him, which may be all that kept him from becoming a manifestation himself; he was killed not only in Gotham, but by a nexus point, in rage and revenge and hatred.”

There was something dark in Lady Gotham’s eyes now, something black and burning and for half a second Danny could swear he felt that rage himself, deep in his chest.

“Something else leaked through in the short time that he was dead,” she went on, her gaze firmly locked on Jason’s and Danny couldn’t imagine just how much the older-younger halfa was feeling under its full force. “Something small, and hungry, and craving death because it was denied his - the death I believe would give it shape.”

It wasn’t enough for Jason, that much was obvious; bitterness-frustration-grief hung in the air in a cloud almost thicker than the Lady’s smogs, and this time Danny gave in to temptation.

Let his own soothing-sorrow-loss twine through, even if he didn’t exactly understand the cause of the feeling. Jason startled a little, knocked from grumbling something that hadn’t been for anyone but him, but his hand reached back for Danny’s. Squeezed tight, even as the bitterness deepened.

His eyes narrowed, he remained focused on Lady Gotham though.

“Of course. Of course he fucking brought the clown back, even after someone did the world a fucking favour,” he hissed through his teeth, then raised his voice more clearly. “So, what? No one can ever kill the Joker, or Gotham gets another curse? Who’d fucking notice at this point?”

A genuine sorrow and pain passed across Lady Gotham’s face but she schooled it, kept her own aura calm and composed… or at least in closer than they could feel. There was probably a reason she’d put space between them again.

“Not quite, but close,” she agreed softly, those red bat eyes somehow more gentle even against the black pupil. “This other entity is already here, growing each day. Every violent death in Gotham is being consumed by it, which I will admit has strengthened the truce between the Curse and myself. Neither of us wish to feed it any more than necessary.”

Danny’s brows furrowed at that and he tried to think back to everything that Frostbite had ever told him about spirits. Not the dead-people kind, but the Neverborn; entities, concepts, ideas given form. Like time, and cities.

“So… when did the Joker die?” He asked cautiously, and felt surprise jolt through Jason. Lady Gotham gave him a quick glance, and cocked her head at Jason himself.

“Not so long after Jason did. A matter of months, less than a year, though he was dead less than a few minutes.” There was something in her tone, a weight on the words that made Danny think he was on the right track… but that she didn’t want to say it.

Which. Well. That was all kinds of bad fucking news if an entity as old as Lady Gotham was wary of speaking it into being. Luckily, Danny was just a fucked up little half ghost who had absolutely no supernatural tie ins to things like belief.

And he believed in just laying all the cards on the table before he decided if he had to flip it.

“That’s really young for any kind of belief spirit,” he said bluntly, watching Lady Gotham’s eyes. Saw… just a hint of something, creasing the corners, and seriously considered reaching his aura to hers for the first time today.

It’d save so much time to just get the message through feeling, but… if she preferred words, the words had to be important, and Jason probably needed words.

Fuck, they’d all need words, because this was going to be a goddamn bat-briefing if Lady Gotham was filling them in, and Mr Emotional Repression Is My Soulmate was not going to be up to aura reads.

Chewing his lower lip, he thought through the next stage a couple times before speaking slowly, watching for any hint he was still on the right path.

“If… it’s grown fast enough that you both noticed… it’s not new?” He tried, wondering briefly if he’d retroactively doomed them all by thinking about “what else could break through” from the depths of the Zone.

Lady Gotham shook her head though, gesturing impatiently through her smoke to clear it… maybe the first sign he’d ever seen that she didn’t control it entirely.

“No. That much, we are both certain of. This entity… it is new and unformed, with no Name of its own. At the moment, all of the fear it wreaks is only feeding belief in the Curse, which is why it only has death. But there is already a will there, long before it should even have awareness. And it wants to grow.”

“Oh great, so Joker’s got a Pitty 2.0 but his is on the outside,” Jason quipped, irritation sparking through him… and Danny was kinda glad to see it, honestly. Just a little flash of the guy he’d been getting to know in all the dark.

Even Lady Gotham managed a brief smile, and didn’t actually bother refuting it; closing her eyes for a moment, she waved her hand and the clouds of smog between them solidified briefly into a model of the city. Buildings only, but with horribly empty shadows between them.

“The Joker’s death gave it an entrance, and his revival denied it his shape, his Name, and the fear he commands. But it is no longer fixated on killing the Joker - and it was, for several years. It pushed him before it had the power for anything else, driving him further, feeding poison to those around him, trying to have him killed so that it could become The Joker, the pure essence of every bloody mark the clown left on Gotham. And it very nearly succeeded,” she added softly, her gaze turning back to Jason with an almost tangible sorrow.

Something in Danny’s gut iced over, and suddenly he was really, really glad he didn’t know what she was thinking.

**

Bruce looked better as he rose from the table, Diana decided, watching her old friend closely. For all that he’d come with an actual reason for his doom and gloom (for a change), his attitude during the briefing was positively relaxed compared to their own discussion that followed.

He would still be worrying and fretting, she knew him too well to believe anything else, and… she knew why. While Diana had no children of her own (though she had met and heard of other versions of herself who had), she did dearly love her own proteges, and those of her friends.

She remembered Jason as the young, sweet boy who’d stumbled over every word he said to her and stared at her like she’d hung the stars. She remembered Bruce’s grief, Batman’s rage, and the shadow that hung over the Dark Knight with every step until Tim Drake took him to heel.

She knew that there was too much there, the guilt and pain and loss and grief for Bruce to see Jason objectively, and she didn’t begrudge him that. Nor did she condone it.

It only hurt both men, and while she would not give her opinion when it wasn’t wanted… well, she was aware Bruce spoke to Clark of his worries around Jason much more often than he would to her. This time though, she’d had no choice.

She knew the man well enough to know what was truly scaring him in this situation; that Jason would be taken from him again. He was at least as upset by this “Danny” boy as the thought of war with an entire realm.

It would have been cute, if he wasn’t a grown adult man who prided himself on critical thinking. Or actively forcing his son away with his own actions at every turn.

Still, there was one piece of counsel she could give. The thing he hated the most of all was a mystery. And while she also didn’t usually condone his stalking-as-a-sign-of-affection…

“Batman.”

He stopped in the doorway but didn’t look back, still as a statue. At least he was listening.

A fond smile pulling across her lips, Diana shook her head. Let the formal tones of Wonder Woman return to the voice of a friend.

“You see many dangers in the unknown. Perhaps you might reassure yourself by getting to know young Danny Fenton as a person, rather than a potential threat.”

He stayed frozen in the doorway for a moment longer, then nodded his head sharply and swept away.

Diana stifled a chuckle. Honestly, for all Constantine had come to her as if the world were about to end… all of their problems with this Infinite Realm were perfectly clear to her.

The American government had overstepped drastically with their Anti Ecto Acts and would be brought to heel.

The new ruler of the Infinite Realms had turned their head in this direction, and guided them to what must be fixed.

And young Jason Todd, while far from the only hero who had died and returned, had been chosen by this ruler to be favoured with protection, in exchange for service.

Of course, it may all blow out of control and become as dire as her dear friend already seemed to believe it was, but for all Bruce was constantly creating contingencies and backup plans, he very rarely had to use most of them.

She turned her attention to John Constantine instead, the magician seeming much less inclined to make himself scarce than usual. At least he had also calmed considerably, and was even smiling in his own crooked fashion after Bruce.

“You know he’s gonna go stalk that poor kid even more now?” He asked sardonically, pulling another cigarette from his pack but not reaching for the lighter.

Diana hesitated for a moment.

She’d meant for Bruce to talk to Danny, preferably directly. But Bruce did not like talking to new people; not without thorough research and a chance to prepare.

Then she shrugged.

“If it will keep him from disrupting our already tense situation with the Infinite Realms, better that he distract himself with more fatherly concerns,” she said simply.

Constantine snickered again, then frowned.

“Wait, fatherly concerns? For some kid his boy’s known like, a week?”

This time, Diana didn’t bother to restrain her smile, glancing down at the phone in her pocket.

“Merely a week, perhaps, but according to Wonder Girl they have already been caught at least once without their trousers.”

Which hadn’t been part of the official presentation, of course. Nor apparently whatever Bruce had already shared with Constantine, as the mage promptly nearly swallowed his unlit cigarette and began choking.

Diana gave him a carefully gauged slap to the back, sending the now soaked and crumpled smoke across the meeting table, but politely did not laugh.

**

Jason was pretty sure he was going to puke. Or scream. Maybe both.

It wasn’t bad enough that Bruce had refused to kill the Joker, to stop him from killing anyone else, no, he’d fucking brought him back to life. Given the fucking Joker the chance that none of his victims ever got.

None of them except Jason.

And now apparently even wanting the bastard dead was all part of some master fucking plan to make the fucking asshole even worse.

He’d wanted Bruce to be the one to avenge him from the second Tallia pulled him out of the Lazarus Pit, but when he’d come to Gotham… when his plans to carve out his turf, provoke the Joker with an old alias, set the trap had suddenly become stuffing heads in a bag…

He’d thought about it. A lot. About just hunting the fucker down, putting a bullet between his eyes, and leaving him in the Batcave deader than dead.

Had nearly done it, but no. He’d wanted… he’d wanted Bruce to choose him. To put him first, to say he loved Jason more than some moral stance, to value Tim’s life more, and Steph, and Cass, over the fucking scum who would have happily killed every last one of them with a smile on his face just to see if Bruce finally broke.

And Bruce hadn’t.

Bruce had nearly killed him.

And in and around that whole mess, he’d never gotten around to actually thinking about how his fucking daddy issues had saved the Joker’s life for… years, by now.

Jason wasn’t killing anymore. Not like, actively. Intentionally. Not because he thought Bruce was right; something, someone, had to be willing to stand up for the people of Gotham and actually stop fuckers like the Joker from killing them.

But… well, Crime Alley was his territory, and a scared enemy, a cowed enemy who’d seen their life in Jason’s hands and knew just how easily he could end it was more useful than dealing with the power vacuum, or the next million upstarts who’d think they knew better, would be better, and could take on the Red Hood themselves.

Ironically, keeping fuckers like Black Mask and Great White Shark alive and in power (at severely reduced scale) saved him time. Kept him from dealing with all those upstarts himself.

That was how Waylon had put it, back when Jason was considering adding to his bag of heads. It was… like farming. Keep them low, but keep them stable. Break anything new they went for, or anything that got on his turf.

Let them harvest some of the power hungry fucks who thought they could take a piece of the Alley.

And then Dick had noticed. And reached out. And didn’t stop until Jason gave in and reached back.

When Danny came to Gotham. Somehow, it all swung back around to Danny.

And the fact that if he actually believed what he told Bruce, he could have gone to kill the clown himself at any time since returning to the city.

And he never had. The time wasn’t right. Something came up. Something went wrong, or broke, or distracted him before he thought too hard about it.

Killing the Joker hadn’t even been in his original plans for his triumphant return. He’d just wanted to take back the Alley, prove his point to Bruce. Keep his home safe.

When had killing the Joker become such a big part of the plan? Who the fuck had gotten into his fucking head, redefined him as the last moment of his fucking life, demanded his new life be all about how the last one ended?

Eyes narrowing, he looked searchingly into Lady Gotham’s face just in time to catch her slow nod, like she’d heard every thought. Like he’d been speaking aloud.

“I could not stop it from reaching to you,” she said softly, her voice heavy with sadness, “but I could… distract. Get in the way, make its path harder. That you did not give in…”

Something soft, something proud flickered in her eyes again, and it made him want to squirm.

“You may not have consciously known that you fought yet another enemy, yet you triumphed regardless. My dear Jason…” she sighed, heavy with sorrow, and reached out a hand again as though to cup his face.

Jason found himself moving to meet her before he even thought about it. Stopped himself just before it actually got him anywhere.

He wasn’t done being angry yet. He wasn’t even sure he’d actually started. If he could ever, would ever, be angry enough for this.

There was something building in him like a tide, riding high on resentment and his spiralling thoughts. It wasn’t green tinted like the pit rage, his vision was still clear… if anything, it felt sharper, like everything had been dialled up to eleven. Like the terrible, roaring anger was seeking a target.

“I am sorry that you have been robbed of your justice in this way,” Lady Gotham said quietly and once again Jason’s focus narrowed down with her intensity, like she was the only real thing in the world, “that even your own emotions of this, your death, have been used against you. It is…”

She hesitated, actually looking to Danny for help herself for the first time. Judging from the sudden low horror Jason could feel from the other man, he might actually be under reacting.

Or the tide was still rising.

He felt like razing the whole city to the fucking ground, with his own hands, brick by brick. Or puking. Or screaming until his lungs ripped out of his chest, if only he could move.

It felt like something had reached into his brain and cranked up the contrast, made the already neon brights of the Ghost Zone brighter, the shadows darker, the very air prickling at his skin like needles with the urge to do something.

Because if he moved, did anything, he wouldn’t be able to stop. Not when every muscle ached to tear the whole universe apart.

He was almost a passenger in his own skin as something else, a different, slow boiling rage barely under control clamped him in a vice.

“So y’know we talked about not asking about how ghosts died?” Danny said slowly, his voice suddenly low and hoarse.

Jason managed a stiff nod, every muscle twanging tight with tension. It had been pretty important, pre-Ghost-Zone.

And he could put the pieces together, right from the tight hot center of that ball of rage that he was pretty sure was his own core.

“This is worse,” he said gruffly, not bothering to look over. Didn’t have to, when he could feel the face Danny was pulling through the worry-worry-fear-anger-horror still surrounding him.

He… fuck. He was a little afraid of what he might do, if there was even an ounce of pity on Danny’s face, and honestly that panicked him more than anything else. All the rage wanted was a target, and he didn’t think he’d be able to choose what it was.

Danny nodded anyway, making a conscious effort to try and reign his aura in. Like he couldn’t hear the subtext, feel it in Jason’s, or like he could and didn’t care.

It left him feeling cold, icy and alone, but still relieved under the echoing slam of rage in his veins. A little more alone in his own head. A little less watched. Judged. Not good enough.

“Like, worse than worse, dude. Ghosts will throw down and rip each other apart just for fun and no one’s actually hurt, but… you don’t fuck with somebody’s death. You just don’t. It’s the worst thing you could do to a ghost, worse than Ending them. Not even Pariah Dark…”

“Exactly,” Lady Gotham hissed, baring her teeth in something not even remotely a smile, full cheeks and lips suddenly gaunt and hollow as the teeth became fangs. It lasted barely a moment, a flicker before it faded, but it snapped Jason straight out of his fury with a sudden shock of terror.

She’d been intimidating before. Effortlessly, gracefully powerful and commanding, the kind of person people would beg to step on them without a hint of aggression. Those teeth though… just the moment of that rage, of something so powerful suddenly nothing but raw, feral danger…

It wasn’t even directed at him but it still felt like a bucket of cold water down his spine. An instant urge to duck his head, show his throat, convince this much larger predator that he wasn’t a threat.

She was immediately contrite, turning her head away as her face cast into shadow, only the red pupils still visible.

“My apologies. It is… less personal for me than it is for you, yet it seems still too close to my heart.”

Forcing himself to swallow, Jason took a couple of deep, heavy breaths. The anger was still there, kind of. He could feel it in an almost distant way, past the hammering of his heart, but it wasn’t all he was anymore.

It was just… a feeling now. One he was in control of.

The shadows were just shadows again. The green of the Zone no longer blinding.

He blew the last breath out slowly, and let the remnants of the anger go with it.

“No, uh… it’s fine. I think that helped, actually,” he said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck and suddenly embarrassed at just how tense he’d become.

Justified, apparently, from both the other ghosts’ reactions, but that didn’t mean Jason wanted to feel so out of control. How close to just… being carried away by the anger.

No matter what anyone else said, no matter what the damn Pit or Joker-monster or whatever the fuck else tried to do, Jason Todd was not going to be defined by rage.

For one thing, he’d never live it down.

Danny sagged beside him, relief as tangible as that last breath flowing out of him, despite the core of concern underneath. That was fine; Jason was still concerned too.

And maybe thinking about his stash of ecto-candies again, but he honestly didn’t feel half as drained this time. He wasn’t even scared of Lady Gotham anymore - that moment had ended as soon as it started. As soon as she’d tucked those terrifying needle-like teeth away. Now she just looked…

Proud. Proud, and fond, and so, so sad. Like Alfred had been the first time he presented Jason with his very own Robin suit for the field.

It choked something inside Jason just a little, made his throat tight and breath hitch.

“You are so much more than anyone gives you credit for, Jason Todd,” she said softly, her sclera softening briefly to a bright, sunshine yellow. Like the cape he’d drowned in as a boy flying from her rooftops, “and they all think far better of you than you believe.”

That caught him up for a moment, confusion pulling into the absolute fucking mess of emotions he was pretty sure he was projecting to all and sundry.

Then Danny sighed heavily and draped himself sideways over Jason’s shoulders like a particularly lanky and bony scarf.

“Yeah, yeah, and your ghost mom is fucking terrifying. Did not need that reminder, Ladyship,” he tossed at Lady Gotham with a cheeky wink, effectively steam rolling the tension yet again.

Jason could have kissed him, but from the angle Danny had flopped on, his options were armpit or hip, and neither appealed.

Sassy comebacks, he could handle. Reassurances that people didn’t think he was a complete sack of shit, apparently not.

The whole batfam were just perfect poster kids for mental health, alright?

The Lady herself laughed softly and inclined her head, not arguing the point.

“Of course. Still, I am sorry Jason.”

He cut her off this time, raising both hands and stopping just short of reaching for the back of his neck again, which was about where Danny’s waist was sat.

“Don’t be. I… think I needed to be knocked out of my head there. I really do feel better now,” he added, and Danny huffed a noncommittal noise and ruffled his hair.

“Yeah, well. You’re allowed to be pissed about it,” Danny informed him like he wasn’t sure if Jason actually knew that.

Which, obviously, Jason absolutely wasn’t. He had a pit ghost baby to teach good habits to, and Danny still had no idea what Jason was like when he actually lost control of the anger. But he could appreciate the sentiment.

And deflect like a Robin.

“Oh, is that a royal decree?” He asked archly, and while this noise was no more coherent than the last it was decidedly more whiny and drawn out into wordless protest.

Which still ended in a very quiet “yes.”

Luckily, quiet enough that Jason could pretend he didn’t hear it.

“Anyway, I’m good. Still gonna kick this thing’s ass for messing with my head, and maybe put it in a blender, but for now I’m good. Chill vibes only for Pitty,” he added with a roll of his eyes when Danny made a confused little chirping sound.

Lady Gotham chuckled softly to herself and nodded, resettling herself to recline on her smog clouds once more.

“Indeed. You currently have more pressing concerns; as little as I enjoy the present situation, it can wait. The Curse and I can monitor this new being’s behaviour through the rogues it has affected; they are noticeably becoming more violent, while the Curse is swaying the rest towards being less. For contrast,” she added before Jason could ask.

Which… might actually explain why Riddler had tossed a broken game box at Croc and the Wayne gala rather than trying to fix it. He’d stripped most of the interesting stuff according to Tim’s report, sure, but Nygma never let a thread go.

So he wasn’t gonna be on this new bad guy’s kill list.

Nor would Waylon, and Harley had been more destructive than homicidal for years. Already making a mental list on the events he’d caught wind of in the last few weeks, Jason didn’t even realise the conversation had moved on without him until Danny stuck a wet finger in his ear.

“What the actual fuck!” Jason demanded, trying to shrug the ghost off his shoulders. And while there was deadass no weight to Danny in this form, it was frankly unfair that he just rolled with the movement like he also didn’t have bones, snickering.

“You had Resting Bat Face,” he explained with a grin, twisting upwards to look down at him in a way that actually really shouldn’t have been doable with a human spine - and Jason had grown up around Dick Grayson, who ran the limit of everything a human spine was capable of.

“He does best with a problem to solve,” Lady Gotham noted with a sly amusement. “This one, however, has no time limit as yet. If I thought you would listen, I would have insisted on telling you at a later date.”

And that was just pointed enough that Jason rolled his eyes, feeling his cheeks flush in spite of himself. He just… liked to have all of the information. It’s not like he was Bruce.

“Yeah, well, I like to know what I’m dealing with,” he grumbled, folding his arms and scowling at Danny. Who grinned back and ruffled his hair.

“Well, either way. Not like you need to pull the spandex back on imminently, right? There’s plenty of bats around,” he offered hopefully, and Jason felt a quick pang.

Danny… really didn’t want him to have to be a vigilante. He could taste it in the hope, in the worry, in everything his king was putting off. For some reason, he seemed to think Jason had come back to life and left the masks behind.

Like he hadn’t even thought about why Jason was still in fighting shape to be his fucking knight in the first place.

He knew he’d be annoyed if it was anyone else trying to insist he stay out of the game. He’d shot at Dick more than once for suggesting he go home when he was injured; the rest knew better than to say a word.

He hadn’t even considered giving up the vigilante life when he came back from the dead… except that brief period when he’d sort of been a rogue. He’d never even been a normal crime lord, most of them were way less hands on.

If he looked at the future now, he couldn’t imagine ever giving it up. The rogues would apparently literally always be a problem; the city would always need protectors.

That thought had never made him sad before, and yet…

Was it really the first time anyone had suggested he’d done enough? He’d died, and sure Jason was back now, but Danny seemed to really, actually believe he could stop wearing the mask.

That he’d given enough, given everything, and could and should just have a peaceful life now.

It made him almost ashamed to admit that he’d never even considered the possibility.

For all Jason railed against teen heroes, he’d only stopped being one for a temporary villain arc. Which was apparently at least partially supernaturally motivated, which was fun.

It’d shut Bruce up if Jason ever dragged that out in an argument, but Bruce already thought Jason was too volatile and susceptible to being controlled. Never mind that he hadn’t actually killed the Joker and started the apocalypse or whatever, all Bruce would hear was “someone else made Jason a villain so it could happen again”.

He’d probably try and take Jason off the case of this mystic whatever that was feeding on death. Fuck that noise. Until Bruce got a face to face with Lady G, Jason probably wouldn’t even tell him the details.

(Honestly, if there was even half a chance of avoiding that subject altogether, he’d take it. Bruce got ornery about magic in his city in a way none of the Robins had ever enjoyed dealing with, and that had been back when he and Jason had a good relationship.

Now… well, Constantine had been sticking around, so hopefully he could handle that mess and Jason could just get the actual work done.)

He gave Danny his best reassuring smile anyway, rolling his eyes and reaching to try and ruffle his hair. Found that he actually couldn’t quite reach with the way Danny was twisted around him, which was kinda weird.

“Yeah, yeah, I heard Frostbite. Side effects of the forming core could be pretty much fucking anything, and til Pitty pops out I’m not even gonna do research on anything that’ll set us off.”

Which wasn’t the same as saying he wouldn’t start the case. He could arrange what he already knew, start a plan of action, and organise his next steps without doing any additional research, after all.

Something about Lady Gotham’s delicately arching eyebrow let him know that she, at least, was onto his bullshit. Lucky for Jason, Danny just accepted the words, grinning and twisting around to wrap his whole head in a hug.

And then flowed back off his shoulders like a fucking liquid before Jason could worry about having to breathe.

“That’s great! Oh, and we should set up your haunt too! That’ll help!” Danny enthused brightly, clapping his hands and doing his best impression of a totally solid human that was apparently not his default.

Maybe it was a ghost thing.

Just so long as he never did it in human form, Jason could ignore that he definitely shoulda felt a ribcage being squeezed like that…

And no, Jason absolutely wasn’t wondering about what else Danny could use that noodley flexibility for. Totally not letting Dick know either… for competitive gymnast reasons, definitely.

No one wanted to deal with that.

And then his brain fizzled to a halt as Danny’s actual words penetrated and a sliver of concern slipped in.

Because… yeah. They’d talked about haunts. It was practically the first topic on the list; what to do in someone else’s haunt, what to never ever do even near someone else’s haunt, what a haunt meant to a ghost.

It was soul-underwear again, one of the most sacred parts of a person’s soul; their truest, actual home. Fortress and power source.

Halfas had to have them too, since Danny and Frostbite had both insisted that keeping and maintaining his haunt were going to be vital to his health while his cores stabilized. As in, Frostbite told him not to leave it for long and suggested redecorating as a soothing activity.

(Danny’s was officially Amity Park, which had not escaped Jason’s notice when he was apparently being put on haunt-arrest. It might have been an older halfa thing; very few ghosts actually stayed in their haunts all the time, although Jason could see the temptation.

It also might have been something else, and Jason had this thing about secrets and surprises down the line. He’d ask later, if he couldn’t work it out himself.)

Danny called Crime Alley Jason’s haunt, and that had felt right from the first time he’d said it. Crime Alley was his, his territory, his space, his home more than anywhere else. He knew it inside and out, could feel its moods and taste the changes in the air when something went wrong.

Baby ghosts usually couldn’t claim a haunt of any size as their own, but Jason knew that the Alley belonged to him.

That was before he’d met Lady Gotham. And if she was the spirit of the whole city… maybe he’d been wrong? Maybe it was just through her that he knew it so well?

He found himself looking to her uncertainly, searching her face in case there was any trace of displeasure. Any sign she didn’t want another ghost’s haunt in… well, what was kinda her physical body.

He couldn’t see or feel anything, but when she’d already been so careful about keeping her feelings her own… no better time to ask, really.

“Yeah… about that…” this time he did scratch the back of his neck, Danny safely down beside him. Which was about when he realized that he had no clue how to word the question.

Haunts were personal, he knew that much.

Then again, Lady Gotham said she was his ghost-mom. That had to include stupid questions. Blunt it was.

“Is it weird if I have a haunt in the city? I mean, it’s obviously your city, duh, but how do I… it feels like I’m squatting in your closet,” he said finally, giving up on not being just the most awkward creature in a thousand mile radius.

Danny’s mouth opened and closed a few times, excitement fading to a confused fascination as his words sunk in.

“Y’know, that’s a really good point… except it’s more like he’s squatting in your kidneys,” he pointed out to Lady Gotham, turning to face her too.

Lady Gotham chuckled softly and took a slow drag from her traffic cone, which had almost stopped smoking.

“Ah, I forget the limitations of a halfa’s knowledge… all ghosts begin with a haunt within their parent’s, Jason. From the moment you returned to my arms I opened up the Alley for you, and it has been yours ever since.” She paused to blow out a long plume of smog, which shaped itself into a tiny row of very familiar buildings.

Jason didn’t have to see more than a couple to know what they were; he could feel it right down to his core.

“When you are older, stronger, you may desire another, although being in the mortal world is already a degree of distance, but Crime Alley will always be your first,” Lady Gotham continued as Crime Alley bloomed from the smog before them, tiny and yet more than just an image, more than just a replica; the real thing in the scope of her power.

There were no lights in tiny windows, nothing moving through the smog, and yet it was still clearly alive. No, filled with things that were alive, people and noise and even the rats.

And it was his. His beating heart.

Lady Gotham’s smile was a tender beacon in the fog, her hands coming up to caress the smoking Crime Alley and gently waft it in his direction.

“Every crumbling brick, every pothole, every shadow. It is a heavy responsibility, and one I shall share with you until you decide you no longer need my help, but it will always be yours, Jason. It would not have accepted anyone else.”

The cluster of smoggy buildings fell apart as they reached Jason and for a moment he nearly panicked trying to keep them together, but… he was suddenly washed in a wave of old, familiar scent.

Not the burned rubber and pollution of all the rest of the smogs, the constant smell of the city. This was… floral. Soft, and sweet, and chemical in the way that cheap perfumes always were because they couldn’t have afforded the good ones.

Watered down, because they could get even that so rarely that she would begin refilling the bottle with water when it was barely half empty. Catherine Todd’s favourite perfume.

It hadn’t covered the stink of cigarettes and worse coming from the very walls of their apartment; he’d only smelled it when she was holding him close. Shielding him from Willis’s rage, tucking him into bed, cuddled up on the couch to wait out the rain or sickness.

The smell of home.

It brought tears to his eyes, the pressure of the day threatening to spill over and overwhelm him again.

Intellectually, it felt like another moment that should have been terrifying. More than any show of teeth, this was her strength. Who and what she was, she could break him with a wave of her hand, a wisp of smoke, and yet…

He felt warm. Comforted. Wrapped in her smile and at peace in a way he hadn’t in… fuck it had been years.

There was something else too, a layer under the flowers that only the deepest detective-trained parts of him tried to pluck apart; it was part of the home smell, inextricable, but it didn’t make sense. Wasn’t the perfume. Just the very faintest hint of baking far away, and Catherine Todd had never been able to afford…

Oh.

Of course not. Because Catherine Todd, his mother in every possible sense of the word but one, had never met Alfred.

**

So, the good news: Tucker was currently in the lead for Spiderheck. Bad news: they’d finished the first set (Tim won, but he’d been two ahead from the start which was cheating), and… the game had ticked directly over into another set.

They hadn’t been planning on changing any settings, so it was fine, and Conner and Tim hadn’t noticed anything wrong.

But… Tucker was beginning to worry, just a little. He’d done video games before, with Danny and Sam; no worries, they’d taken a turn directly in pretty much every game they’d played together.

Just, y’know, he knew Danny and Sam really well. And Tim and Conner were really cool, and he understood a lot more about how the Supers worked than he ever had before? But, maybe that was why he’d kinda screwed up.

Because he wanted things to be fair, and didn’t want them to think he’d given himself extra advantages. So they were all spiders, all the same.

And he wasn’t completely sure where the meta controls were?

Danny and Sam always insisted he have a version of the controller somewhere, so they could flick to the menu (and sometimes run riot there too). Last time they did Spiderheck, he’d put the buttons on his stomach, so Danny and Sam could try and hit them for an extra level of difficulty.

But he wanted to be fair. Didn’t want extra powers. And, apparently, technopathy had sorta maybe converted that wish into him not being able to feel it while he was spidered up.

All his combat moves were fine! The break, grab, web commands were smooth and easy, just like every other time he did them. Different attacks, no worries. And, obviously, he hadn’t stood still and tried to look for the code, because they were playing Spiderheck and that was a really easy way to get wiped.

Dodging another swinging attack from Tim, he scuttled at top speed across the platform and jumped behind a box. No weapons here, and he scanned quickly for the next spawn point.

Which, normally, shoulda shown up on two levels; the normal game vision, and the white lined underlay of the code, which he could always see through from top to bottom of the level.

(This was usually an active impediment rather than an advantage in Spiderheck; it was way too hard to know what he could stand on.)

He couldn’t see one, just the platform above and the wall behind.

Maybe he should take an early death, just to give himself a little time to work this out. Just so he could stop worrying. He was 21, he’d had these powers for years, he totally knew how they worked by now.

He just, maybe, might have gotten overconfident.

Danny would never let him live it down if they all had to be rescued from Spiderheck.

And, way more importantly, Tim Drake-Wayne and his super hot boyfriend would only remember him as the loser who couldn’t even control his powers.

Nope. Absolutely not.

A loud buzzing heralded the arrival of one of the spinning laser traps, and Tucker made up his mind. Just one early death. No worries. He had a two win lead, and honestly he’d rather lose the set than admit he’d fucked up.

Scuttling “away” from Tim’s probable next attack, Tucker scurried into the path of the spinning laser trap.

And saw, at the very last second, Conner swinging in from the other side, directly into a laser.

Shit.

**

Sam was comfortably snuggled down into her pillows and thoroughly enjoying the chaos her new chat was creating when she finally heard the door. A little too buried to easily get up, or look particularly graceful doing it, so instead she stuck a hand straight up into the air.

“In here, love!”

And, like the angel of mercy that she was, Val only made her wait ten minutes to get out of all of her winter gear and put the kettle on before coming to save her from her fate.

“Not the fastest rescue I’ve received,” Sam teased, even as Val hauled her easily to her feet. Val grinned back and pulled her in for a quick peck.

“I wasn’t aware I was being timed. I can do better.”

“I bet you can,” Sam laughed, draping her arms around her girlfriend’s shoulders. Val gave her another, deeper kiss, then drew back enough to press their foreheads together.

“So, how was Gotham? I saw Danny made the front page,” she teased back, and Sam hesitated.

In amongst all of their various plans for disaster, it hadn’t really come up that whatever they did at the party, it was sure to make the gossip rags. Front page though? That was probably an achievement.

And, given what she herself had done, really annoying.

“What, they gave the front page to him? I blatantly accused at least two CEOs and Lex Luthor of weaponizing misogyny, with citations, and Danny got the front page?” She huffed, drawing back and folding her arms, fully intent on turning away to sulk, but not remotely objecting when Val’s arms snuck around her waist and pulled her back in.

Val’s chin tucked in over her shoulder and the taller woman snickered.

“I know, right? Sadly cold hard facts just fade away in the face of a scandal.” Val sighed dramatically, then dropped a kiss on the side of Sam’s neck. “You’re on page seven. It’s mostly about your parents, but using Lex’s name got a couple other points in. Oh, and Vicki Vale did a three page piece on how Brucie Wayne specifically upholds the patriarchy. I think she quoted you.”

Sam considered that for a moment, her arms automatically coming around to cover Val’s for a brief squeeze. It wasn’t like she’d actually been planning to change anything at the gala. Mostly she’d just wanted to be heard.

It could be an interesting starting point, though. Especially since she got to pick her outfit for the next gala; her mother hadn’t even specified that it had to be a dress on the document, which was definitely a peace offering.

Cass Wayne had looked really good in that suit.

Her cheeks suddenly hot for absolutely no reason, Sam twisted in Val’s arms to kiss her again.

“I’m sorry my mom’s… the worst,” she finished lamely, wrapping her arms around Val again.

The whole fall-from-grace thing may have been seven years ago, and Val had more than moved on, but. Well. Sam didn’t exactly believe all the scars had healed.

Especially when Val stilled for a moment in her arms.

Then she chuckled, wrapping her arms a littler tighter around Sam and lifting her off her feet.

“Hey, at least she’s not actually a bigot. It’s always nicer to be hated personally than in general, y’know?” She teased, echoing something Sam was pretty sure Danny had said to her back in her Phantom-hunting days.

Sam huffed and wrapped her legs around Val’s waist too, raining kisses down on her face.

“Yeah, well, she can still shove it up her ass. You’re my date for the next gala, if you actually want to come.”

Which.

Well.

Was about when she realized that the next gala was probably going to be extra interesting, after all their shenanigans. Maybe they should have been more discrete? More careful?

Her worry must have shown on her face, because Val gave her a very gentle bounce to shake her out of it.

“Hey. Samantha Manson. I would be delighted to go to the next gala with you, and tell all the little journalists that yeah, I’m that Val,” she said firmly once Sam had refocused on her. Then she grinned. “I’ll even be on my best behaviour and not one up Danny until the second one.”

That made Sam laugh again, hugging on tight even as Val turned and easily carried her through to their little kitchenette and sat her up on one of the counters.

“Hey, did you get that autograph from Harley for me by the way? I wanna send it to my dad for his birthday,” she added, sneaking another kiss and then pulling a pair of mugs next to the steaming kettle.

Sam considered hopping off the counter. Didn’t bother, reaching behind herself instead to pull her favourite tea for the month and drop a bag into her mug.

“Yeah, a couple actually. And she said if we wanna meet Ivy she’ll let us know when they’re back on the west coast, but it won’t be any time soon.” That hadn’t been particularly surprising, but it still made Sam a little sad.

Just another reminder that they were on the outside looking in all the way over here.

Valerie stilled, coming back and resting both hands on Sam’s thighs.

“Do you miss being on the east coast?” She asked quietly, those gorgeous green eyes so large and gentle.

Sam hesitated a moment longer, then sighed and let her head thunk back against the cupboard behind her.

“Honestly, I think I just miss being closer to everyone. It’s not far for Danny with the Zone, but if you or I wanna visit anyone we have to hop on an airplane or spend weeks driving, neither of which are good for the environment. We just… get forgotten out here, stuck out of the loop.”

Val raised an eyebrow, a smirk on her face but eyes still soft with understanding.

“Oh, like you’re one to talk. I thought I’d pick up a new phone and rejoin the group chat that day, but suddenly I gotta wait nearly a week for “new secrets”,” she teased and Sam sighed, shaking her head. Not quite able to lift all the way out of her funk.

“Yeah, I know… it probably woulda been fine, Danny shouldn’t have dropped anything at all in the main chat if he didn’t want everyone to see it, I just…”

“Wanted to be more sensitive than he is,” Val finished the sentence, leaning in for another kiss. Not needing to reach up even with Sam sat on the counter. “That’s why I’m still dating you.”

It did pull a smile from Sam anyway and she draped her arms over her girlfriend’s shoulders again.

“For some reason. So, what did you think?”

Val shrugged, her hands sliding up to settle around Sam’s waist.

“About a new halfa? Probably sucks for him. Especially when he’s gotta come out as dead to his family. The Waynes aren’t exactly known for being stable,” she pointed out when Sam snickered.

Which was a fair point.

“They’re actually worse when there’s more of them,” she mused, glancing back towards the bed where she’d left her phone, “and the oldest’s a cop now.”

This time it was Val’s turn to snicker.

“Yeah, I heard. Tuck already sent me the blow by blow of you eviscerating the poor guy.”

Sam preened. Deservedly.

“Hey, you know me, I’m not gonna play nice just cuz I’ve been dragged to some social function.”

The snicker turned to a chuckle as Val leaned in, rubbing their noses together.

“And you know me, baby girl, ACAB all the way, and I still think that should extend to the Justice League. Heard half of Batman Inc also showed up, did you let them have it too?”

“You know I did,” Sam purred, locking her ankles behind Val’s back and nipping playfully at her lower lip. Val laughed, her hands creeping slowly up the small of Sam’s back.

“That’s my little leopard. Tea’s done.” And then, totally unfairly, she reached back with one hand and pulled Sam’s ankles apart, slipping free with a laugh as Sam pouted. “Hey, you’d be more upset if I let it over steep.”

“I can make more tea,” Sam grumbled, finally slipping off the counter, but a rebellious smile made it onto her face anyway. Val toasted her with the french press.

“True that, darling, but I’m not wasting the good coffee beans. Daddy asked me four times if I was sure about taking the train but honestly, he’s a state away now, it’s not worth a flight.”

Setting her teabag aside, Sam squirted in some vanilla agave syrup and took a deep breath. Gotham was fine, but no hotels could match her home tea stash. Not even the Waynes could.

“Beautiful, strong, environmentally conscious, and a Daddy’s girl. How did I land you again?” She asked innocently as Val dropped creamer into her own mug.

“By being all of those but the last one,” Val countered easily, taking a mug and holding an arm out for Sam to tuck under. “Now c’mon, if I’m going to the next gala you need to tell me allllll about a certain cutie Cassandra Wayne,” she cooed, making for their couch.

Sam’s face flushed red and she made to duck away instantly, but those damn vigilante muscles made it so hard.

“Okay, veto, you’re not allowed to do that anymore! My mom is trying to hook me up with her!” Sam did not whine. She. Protested. With dignity. Totally no idea why Val snickered, holding her coffee up and away in her other arm.

“Yeah, that’s the point. How funny would it be if Danny and I both stole a Wayne from you?” She asked with a vicious grin.

Which… did make Sam pause. Because that would be really funny. And Cass would almost certainly be down for it; she wasn’t as loud or attention seeking as any of the boys, but Sam could recognize the wicked gleam in anyones’ eyes when they enjoyed the chaos.

Then she sighed.

“No, we have to be good for the next gala. Otherwise no one’s going to listen to what I actually have to say.”

Val hummed an agreement, guiding her to sit on the plush, well loved cushions. It was an old couch, and a hand-me-down from Sam’s work, but it was just too good to pass up. They could both lie comfortably side by side on the seat, if they snuggled just a little, and the back was wide and plush enough for two throws.

“Okay. The gala after that, then. It’ll make our slow burn long distance romance all the more compelling,” she added when Sam snorted, finally releasing Sam to sink comfortably into oblivion.

Sam swatted at her and put her tea down on the table.

“You’re dreadful. I love you. We’ll ask Cass, lemme just get my phone and I’ll hook you into the group chat with her, Steph, and Babs. They’re Wayne family friends,” she added at Val’s questioning noise, “I haven’t met Babs yet, but Steph is great. You’re gonna love her.”

“Only if we’re going for some three’s company action,” Val snickered as Sam jogged to the bedroom, flipping her girlfriend off as she went.

**

Jason was quiet as they left the Zone. It wasn’t entirely unexpected, especially after the day he’d had and the emotional whiplash.

Danny was doing his very best not to let it bother him. He remembered the early days of being a halfa, how much he’d second-guessed himself, how much every new change and discovery had rocked his world. And he’d been a teenager, all hormones and fire and energy.

He hadn’t even been dead a month before shit got weird.

Jason was twenty-two, and had already been dead for almost seven years. Danny’d like to think he’d found ways to cope, but seven years in himself he was pretty sure he still hadn’t.

Whatever Jason had dealt with in those six and a half years was being ripped up in front of him day by day.

If there was anything he wanted, anything he needed, Danny would be there for him in a heartbeat. Before he could even have to ask, if possible. Aaaand the only thing he couldn’t do that for was if Jason needed space.

Lady Gotham had been able to open them a portal directly into Jason’s apartment; Danny preferred to aim high enough to miss walls and buildings on the way back, but it was her city. She knew exactly where everything and anything was - the portal had been in the back of Jason’s front door.

Danny totally wasn’t jealous. He could come back out almost at the same place he’d gone in, if he was quick. And he could go intangible anyway.

It was still really cool to watch the city spirit do it, the way the realms opened easily and willingly at her touch. She’d given Jason a token, a coin that had to be at least six hundred years old that showed the city’s skyline. Apparently he could use it to get in touch with her, or get back to the Zone on his own if Danny couldn’t take him.

Danny was fine with that. For sure.

The Infinite Realms were dangerous, but the token should bring him straight to Lady Gotham, in an emergency. And then Danny could follow and find her, and find Jason. It was a super reasonable backup plan.

He still found himself hovering in the doorway, unsure if Jason wanted him to stay or go while the other man shrugged out of his coat, boots, and shoulder holster that Danny had totally missed this entire time. And then walked directly into the bathroom.

Danny hovered a little closer, entirely unknowing what exactly he’d do if Jason was crying. Or screaming. Or beating a hole in the wall away from prying eyes. Or, actually using the bathroom for its intended purpose, apparently.

Because Danny forgot Jason was still in mandatory human form at all times.

He couldn’t hear anything from inside the bathroom with the door shut anyway, not even movement or the sink running. But then again, Jason’s family knew Superman personally. That probably lead to some inside jokes and really specific precautions.

Danny hovered back to the door. Stared around at the incredibly clean, well organized display of video games and weaponry on the walls, the double shelf of books.

This, he was beginning to suspect, was a third, larger, more expensive apartment. The furniture and room layouts were about the same, but he was like 80% sure the apartment they’d played MarioKart in hadn’t had as much stuff.

This one had some dishes waiting by the sink though. Given how well organized everything else was, they stuck out.

…

Five minutes. Jason was still in the bathroom.

Danny hated waiting. If he was going to stick around, he could justify it by helping out. He rolled up his sleeves and got to work.

———————

Part two imminent! All my love to the tag list, you’ll be following the link on this one so you don’t get both separately

Part 2:

Tag list: @welcometosasakiworld @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop p @mayoota-blog @xysidhe e @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper r @bun-fish @aroranorth-west  @demon-cat-goes-woof @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking g @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor r @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson @asphyxia778 8 @why-must-i-be-like-this @tkiesai @greenpyrowolf f @frivolous-pastel

[maleyanderecafe]

Akahane Academy (Visual Novel)

Created by: Scratchitone

Genre: Comedy

Akahane Academy is a parody and it knows it. All of the male characters the player meets in the beginning are yanderes, and all with long chins that will stab you through the chest. There are three different yanderes, all of which are kind of unique in their own way. The intended play is to go from top to bottom when it comes to routes, so I'll try to follow that order when writing this review.

The player heads to Akahane academy to meet up with their club leader, Yukina-san, the neko girl, who seems to be rivals with the main character. She tells the player that she's left a surprise for them in the classroom, to which they walk in and find three different guys, Hiro, the blonde cheerful one, Misaki the black more mysterious one and Yuusei the more aloof one. From there, the player can interact with them and get their route.

Starting with Hiro, the player stalks to him about some of the manga that they like, and finds out that he's in the cooking club. He shows the player around the home economics room, and lets the player have a taste of cherrypie that he just baked. However, upon taking the pie out, the player smells a strong iron smell, and sees that the pie has a human face stretched out on it. Hiro reveals that he killed all of the player's friends and turned them into pies so that no one else could have them.

If the player goes with Masaki, he starts to brood on about how nobody understands him (complete with an emo wolf in the background), until the player tries to resonate with him. Shocked by this development, he falls in love for the first time and ends up telling them that they will be together forever and ever.

Finally, if the player goes with Yuusei, he will continue to stare at her, sort of breaking waiting for them to notice him until Yuki-san enters the room. She states that this entire thing was revenge for winning the science fair, where she worked really hard on her project and the player won by... making something they don't even understand. As revenge, she ends up making the three boys to ruin their life. She ends up leaving and the player is now stuck with the three yandere boys.

As I've said, very much a parody, since they call everyone weeby names and have dumb things go on but it's great and I like it. Definitely the most "serious" route is Hiro's route since we actually do get to see him basically cook all of the player's friends (which explains why we see such few people in the school anyways and the fact that the Home Eco's room is mysteriously covered in blood. It's probably the most scary route in the entire game and it's a shock because it's likely the first one that you play. The other two are a lot more lax, with Masaki's being probably the most tame (and funniest one) since it plays on the trope of an overly emo/brooding male lead, and the image of him sitting under a tree with a wolf to symbolize his brooding side is actually hilarious. He falls in love and becomes rather protective afterwards but there isn't really too much after that. Masaki's has even less than that but there are little flashes of him smiling as he talks to the player and his figure becomes more creepy as it goes on. It gets interjected by Yuki-san revealing her whole plot of making three yandere guys to ruin the player's life (though I'll be honest so far the only one who actually did anything was Hiro after cooking all of those weird blood pies). Still, it really does lean into the weeby OWO UWU type of writing and it is pretty fun to play since nothing is really taken that seriously. Also man, those chins are so sharp I could probably cut cheese with them.

Anyways, short game, pretty fun. Lots of dumb moments. I enjoyed it! If you like more parody games/ comedic type of yandere games, try this one out- it's short and it likes to make fun of itself which I can always appreciate.

[yall-hate-kids-tourney]

Round 4: Chara Dreemurr (Undertale) vs. Ken Amada (Persona 3)

Propaganda below the cut

Chara Dreemurr (?):

They were constantly blamed for killing all of monster kind in the no mercy route, despite players choosing to go that route. People ignored that they sacrificed themselves to attempt to free the monsters from the underground.

----

everyone wants to blame their own actions (genocide route) on chara, who is a literal child. i don’t know how to tell you this but you are the one playing the game. it’s about YOUR CHOICES. chara is there is punish you for that, you killed the only family that ever loved them! how could they not be upset at that! also if you don’t mind, here’s a good video essay on the subject 

Ken Amada (11):

y'all are all for "murder and revenge plots" until is a 10 y/o boy who watched his mother die and started to become conflicted after realizing his moms killer is a secretly kind traumatized teenager to the point where the 10 y/o boy attempts to kill himself by giving himself up to assassins.

bro he's 10.

----

ken amada is such an interesting character with the unfortunate circumstances of having little screentime and atlus deciding to ruin his reputation forever by giving him a romance choice in the fem protag route. ken is a child who lost his mother at NINE. nobody ever believed him when he said that she was murdered, and that he saw who killed her. hes miserable, and all everyone around him does is give him sympathy while hes suffering and was forced to grow up before even going into middle school. hes angry and determined to get revenge on the person who killed his mother, and he doesnt even see the own value in living anymore beyond getting that revenge. hes more mature than most of his peers, and is desperate to be seen as an adult.but at the same time, he is still a child who likes superhero shows.

----

OH GOD WHERE DO I START

First there's the normal "The fandom hates kids" complaints of "He's so whiny" "he's so annoying" "oh my god kid just SHUT UP" y'know, the typical fandom stuff that makes you wonder if these people have ever talked to a child in their life

Second, there's (spoilers)...

October 4th, and the ENTIRE FANDOM is calling this kid a murderer.

For context, the moment in question doesn't necessarily paint him in the best light but its still understandable. Your team is going on a mission while Ken and another character named Shinjiro are away. In an alleyway, they have a talk where it is revealed that on that night a year priar to the game, Kens mom was killed in that allleyway by Shinjiro's Persona (Which, by the Rules of the Game Lore, basically means By Shinjiro). Ken tried to tell the authorities, the authorities didn't believe him because Magic Reasons and the death was ruled an accident.

Of course Ken is Fucking Pissed and wants revenge

However, because of Talk, he ACTIVELY CALMS DOWN, and realises "Hey, I probably shouldn't kill someone. Despite them, y'know, killing my mom"

HOWEVER REVOLVER JESUS COMES IN AND RUINS EVERYTHING BY SHOOTING SHINJIRO. AND LIKE, IF YOU PLAY P3P YOU CAN /AVOID THE DEATH THING/

AND EVERYONE BLAMES /KEN/. AND ONLY KEN.

And third (yes, there's a THIRD) IS THE FUCKING FEMC ROMANCE THING. WHICH JUST...SHOULDN'T HAVE EXISTED IN THE FIRST PLACE. BUT NOW HE'S "SHOTA BAIT" BECAUSE WE HAVE TO BLAME THE CHILD FOR THE AUTHORITY FIGURE COMING ONTO THEM 😒

[best-underrated-anime]

Best Underrated Anime Group F Round 1: #F2 vs #F7

#F2: 90s maid girls with guns

It’s the year 1999 in Akihabara, Tokyo, Japan. 17-year-old girl Nagomi excitedly moves there to work in a pig-themed maid café. Once she starts working, though… she realizes that the world of Akiba maid café is darker and more violent than she thought...

#F7: Transmigrator heals a reincarnation revenge story.

Dongfang Xianyun transmigrates as the eldest disciple of the Care-free sect. But the only thing that goes through his mind is to make sure he doesn’t end up dying by the hands of the “main character.” He believes he’s just a side character. He just wants to relax and survive all the mayhem surrounding him while dealing with one of his jealous sect teammates, who grew corrupted in the past life.

*Transmigration = similar to isekai, but the world where the characters get isekai’d to is not always a western fantasy type. And a transmigrator is one who transmigrates.

Titles, propagandas, trailers, and poll under the cut!

#F2: Akiba Maid War (Akiba Meido Sensou)

Propaganda:

It was animated by P.A. Works! As far as I know, they also worked on Buddy Daddies, Angel Beats, Ya Boy Kongming, etc. Cygames also contributed to this anime!! The story is creative as well. Who would’ve thought of a cute maid mafia anime? Keep in mind, this is a P. A. Works ORIGINAL. They went SO crazy on this anime. There’s also 12 episodes, which means that you can binge it all on one day and still be satisfied :D The OP and ED are also catchy, creative and unskippable. Despite its dark themes, it can sometimes get a little more “lighthearted” and silly, even in the most violent scenes ;P

Trigger Warnings: Flashing Lights, Graphic Depictions of Cruelty/Violence/Gore.

Just like what I explained, it’s violent. A lot of guns. And a lot of blood. Yes, they kill fellow maids in like every episode ever lol. Also, since Akiba is known to have flashy street signs, like every city ever…. And the guns, of course…that’s why I put the Flashing Lights warning.

#F7: There’s a Pit in my Senior Martial Brother’s Brain (Wo Jia Dashixiong Naozi You Keng)

Official English title: What’s Wrong With My Big Brother

Alt Title: My Dashixiong Has a Pit in His Brain

Propaganda:

This series is kind of insane but also just a lot of fun! The thing is, the shidi (junior martial sect brother), Yin Feixing, felt betrayed by his dashixiong (eldest senior sect brother), Dongfang Xianyun, after he was seemingly rejected for ending up studying the demonic arts. After he dies, he decides to take revenge in the next life, and this is where our story starts off…

The only problem is his dashixiong has been replaced by a transmigrator. And our new Dongfang Xianyun is not as cold or uptight as the past dashixiong (but as the story unravels, was he even that bad?); rather, this version is silly and goofy and fun. And because he believes wholeheartedly that Yin Feixing is the protagonist, he doesn’t act the way a dashixiong is expected to—but it’s in this silliness that one can find sincerity…

So as Yin Feixing exacts his revenge, turning Dongfang Xianyun into a demonic arts practitioner, Dongfang Xianyun’s new soul means he won’t follow the same path as Yin Feixing. Rather than fall to ruins like Yin Feixing, his empathy and creativity means he challenges this entire world by making his fellow demonic practitioners into law-abiding heroes, even as people hate him for the demonic arts. So as multiple plots unfurl, we get a pretty emotional, thematically interesting story, even amidst all the (very funny) crazy comedy, and a clever parody of xianxia* and other transmigration stories. 😆

(*Xianxia (仙侠 xiānxiá) – literally means “Immortal Heroes”. Fictional stories featuring magic, demons, ghosts, immortals, and a great deal of Chinese folklore/mythology. Protagonists (usually) attempt to cultivate to Immortality, seeking eternal life and the pinnacle of strength. Heavily inspired by Daoism. Source)

Oh, and Gong Changsheng is best puppy! He’s such a good sunflower boy with the biggest crush on Dongfang Xianyun, and I love them so much. I think lots of others will love them too if they gave this series a chance. 🥺

The slightly evolving names for each season are fun too:

S1: 我家大师兄脑子有坑 (My Dashixiong Has a Pit in His Brain (aka “he’s really dumb/ridiculous”))

S2: 我家大师兄是个反派 (My Dashixiong Is a Villain)

S3: 我家大师兄有点靠谱 (My Dashixiong Is a Bit Reliable)

(Plus, besides the original manhua, there’s a fun chibi OVA where the cast are like actors!)

Trigger Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Cruelty/Violence/Gore. The donghua isn’t as intense as the manhua, but there is one character who flirts in a somewhat creepy manner.

If you’re reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

[calekinnieplus]

Hey, guess what. It's time to recap what I've read today! And it was quite a bit of reading time, reaching 7 ½ hours. Not bad, if I do say so myself. I've reached chapter 373 now.

Basically, Klein successfully provided wonderful support to Sharron and Maric, being a wonderful magician. With that, he got that Book of Secrets, which helped him in various endeavors already, even if it was freshly acquired.

Klein also helped that Mother Earth Sequence 5 Dawn Paladin, Father Utravsky to defeat his "dark side" heh. In the process, he gained the Master Key- wait, I think I read about this yesterday... regardless! It has connection to what I've read today! Due to this side quest, he was able to easily complete another side quest! The disappearance of Emlyn White.

That was hilarious lmao I love this duo surprisingly much, they're just so fun. Emlyn's brand of good-natured arrogance is hilarious paired with Klein's "idgaf" attitude with him bahahah it was a fun chapter.

Oh yeah, Detective Sherlock Moriarty is earning quite a name for himself! I love reading how he's earning bank fr fr. Let the man be rich! Let him enjoy the delicacies of life! It's satisfying, alright?

And of course, what I consider the most significant part of today's reading... the first appearance of Amon.

See, to gain a decent amount of motivation to start this long ass novel, I needed a bit of incentive, a guarantee that I won't be bored to death in the middle, trying to get to the end. And that was gained by accidentally finding some spoilers. Not enough to ruin plot twists, but enough to keep me guessing and intrigued.

This way, I'm aware that Amon is an... Important character, but I don't really know anything specific about him. Just that he's the antagonist. Yay!

(Also he's scary. But he has potential to be silly as well, so I will definitely be entertained by him)

Right, so Amon. And the suspicions of the council of the City of Silver. Little Sun be going through it rn. The elders are misunderstanding Derrick’s involvement with The Fool and taking it to mean as his involvement with Amon. Kinda awkward ngl.

Mhm, what else, what else...

Oh yeah! LEONARD! MY BOY! I missed him. But he has a Parasite?? That's his deal? Interesting. I'm curious where that will lead him.

Audrey is great and awesome, Susie is adorable, Derrick is innocent, Alger is ambitious and kinda silly sometimes, Fors is Doing Her Best, Stuart is Sherlock Moriarty's new fan, Jurgen is a reliable fellow, Brody the cat might be more perceptive than initially assumed but that could just be paranoia, Amon is Scary and Praise the Fool, thank you.

I miss Melissa and Benson... the Nighhawks squad... the times when Klein didn't have to worry about revenge against a Sequence 5 mf. Of course, I greatly enjoy the story right now. I just get sentimental for Klein from time to time :')

[themculibrary]

Tony Stark Has A Heart Masterlist

and you needed someone to show you the way (ao3) - SailorChibi bucky/steve/tony, clint/phil/natasha T, 24k

Summary: Tony knows what the team really thinks of him. It's a delicate balance: they tolerate him because of his money and his toys, and he gets to stay on the team and fight with them. He's okay with that. So long as he hides the fact that Steve's and Bucky's names are written on his skin in the most embarrassing act of one-sided love affection ever, everything will be fine.

It just figures that a fantastically stupid villain, a kidnapping plot and a video camera will bring Tony's well-kept secret out into the open.

Anew. (ao3) - IViv tony/stephen M, 130k

Summary: In death, there was no glory, no redemption, no salvation.

Only darkness and ice—or that was what Tony thought. He closed his eyes in a Siberian bunker and opened them again on his 41st birthday, with War Machine flying into the distance.

A Parent Apparent (ao3) - happyaspie pepper/tony, mj/peter T, 528k

Summary: In which the author indulges herself in some shameless Irondad/Spiderson with fluff, angst and everything in between because she needs more of that in her life.

OR

Just another one of those, oh so overdone, fanfics where Tony and Peter's relationship grows into more of a father/son relationship after an accident involving Aunt May (who lives)

Hide A Heart Of War (ao3) - RayShippouUchiha bucky/steve/tony T, 13k

Summary: “You’ve got war in your heart boy,” Howard sneers, “don’t ever try and pretend to be anything but what you are.”

Tony feels the familiar burn of a flower mark being etched into his skin but he doesn’t look, doesn’t try and check to see what it is. Instead he keeps his eyes on Howard and his hands cupped around his bleeding mouth and nose.

If They Knew All About You (ao3) - MsHermia pepper/tony T, 521k

Summary: Tony Stark had lost his son when he was only 2 years old, stolen away in broad daylight with nobody the wiser of what exactly happened. Years later, Tony has just made it through the disaster with Ultron. He is trying to keep himself and the team together but relationships are strained and tempers are running high. Then a random turn of events leads to his path crossing with that of a particular vigilante. They are strangers to each other, or so they think.

Peter Parker is on top of the world. After a few shitty years, losing his parents and then losing his Uncle, things are finally looking up. Sure he lives in a crappy little apartment with his Aunt but he might have just found his mission in life.

Miscommunications (ao3) - Isnt_it_pretty_to_think_so T, 14k

Summary: Five times the Avengers learn about Peter Parker, and the one time the rest of the world does, too.

nothing left but scars (ao3) - SailorChibi steve/tony E, 6k

Summary: Steve wakes up to the fact that no one ever compliments or even says thank you to Tony, and that he has fallen into the same trap of painting Tony with a specific paintbrush.

This is how he showers a very confused Tony with praise to make up for it.

Rise Up (ao3) - Wix tony/stephen N/R, 52k

Summary: Tony leaves the Avengers in the wake of Ultron when he refuses to standby and approve of their choices. Fate's quick to step in though and show that where one door closes, another one just might open.

Sharpen Your Teeth (ao3) - STARSdidathing loki/tony M, 369k

Summary: A betrayed Tony Stark leaves the Avengers. He's angry and bitter but he's not about to stop being a hero. The problem is that not everyone is happy with his decision.

Such Sweet Revenge (ao3) - ali_aliska bucky/tony M, 167k

Summary: When the Rogues are back in the States after being pardoned, the New Avengers want nothing to do with them and as far as Tony is concerned, if he never speaks to them again, it’ll be too soon. After all, he didn’t spend the last year putting himself (and his family) back together only for his former co-workers to ruin all of his hard work.

But then he gets a hand-written letter from the Winter Soldier himself, apologizing for the events that transpired and an off-handed comment from Rhodey about Rogers failing to take care of an obviously miserable Bucky Barnes sets in motion Tony’s new, oh-so-evil plan to get some payback.

After all, what better revenge than to steal the Winter Soldier away from his best friend?

The only problem: Tony sucks at being vengeful, but apparently he’s an expert at inadvertently falling in love.

The darkest hour is just before the dawn (ao3) - StarryKnight09 T, 90k

Summary: “Is this Peter Parker?”

“Yes…”

“This is Dr. Nguyen. I’m sorry but your aunt’s been in an accident and we’re going to need you to come to Queens Memorial as soon as you can.”

Peter's life shatters with a phone call. The last person he expects helps him pick up the pieces.

The Guardian (ao3) - Emily_F6 pepper/tony T, 234k

Summary: Guardian: a person who guards, protects, or preserves.

When a terrible accident claims the life of May Parker, Tony Stark steps up as Peter's guaridan. But it's not just a traumatized super-teen he'll have to worry about when he recieves a transmission from Thor.

Tintype (ao3) - EllOnWheels tony/stephen T, 144k

Summary: Tony meets Stephen Strange in the aftermath of Civil War, and finds common ground with the sorcerer. Stephen, as is his way, ends up finding trouble, and Wong finds this all rather tedious.

Then Tony decides to put himself in charge and save the world.

Tony's Girl (ao3) - Crosshairs pepper/tony M, 130k

Summary: When Tony Stark finally opens his eyes after being rescued from Siberia, he isn't the same man anymore. What happened in that abandoned Hydra base has broken him in ways that even Afghanistan hadn't.

But Tony is famous for his innate ability to fix things, even himself. Slowly, with the help of friends old and new, he learns to deal with his new status quo, picks up the pieces of his destroyed existence and rebuilds it from the ground up.

Until an unusual accident puts a new, interesting spin to his already interesting life.

[bacon-sandwich-of-dionysus]

Okay, babz, we're talking about Springtrap and evil purple men today.

I know FNAF has veered off into its own sci-fi saga, but as someone who has been enjoying these games pretty much since their initial release in the early-to-mid-2010s (Number 1 being in 2014- thank you to @plantainsame for the info in the replies :)), I am not really feeling this direction. Now, I know Scott is a sci-fi man, and I know there are people out there who are enjoying the way this franchise is heading, and all I can say is... Good for you, guys! Go on and enjoy it! Whilst it may not be for me, you are very welcome to enjoy the whimsical chaos that is 'The Adventures of Peepaw Afton and his Refusal To Die (lol).'

However, my personal headcanon is that FNAF 3 is the ending. I think I enjoyed FNAF most when it was more barebones, pretty much no names and no faces, bar the uncanny ones of the pizzeria mascots. I just love the ironic ending the killer has. The ghosts get their ultimate revenge: having the antagonist get a taste of his own medicine, feeling the pain and torture they have felt for all these years. And when you come along to help start Fazbear Frights, you become a witness to his punishment: his purgatory. He's helpless as a babe, slumped against the wall of a storage room, having previously been shut away for many years. When he is found and supposedly unleashed, he doesn't taste freedom. The killer is forced to wander throughout the halls, fighting the animatronic's will to hurry after childish giggles and failing (as shown by the player's ability to hinder Springtrap by distracting him with Balloon Boy's laughter).

I remember, way back when, watching a Dawko video where he showed an unscramble version of Springtrap's audio (can't remember if it was just a scrapped audio file or his jumpscare sound) and you could hear "help me". He's been trapped here for so long, he's practically no longer a vicious killer... the man has been stripped away to his bare bones, literally and figuratively. The antagonist is no different to the children he slaughtered, aimlessly trudging down the halls like a lost kid, looking for someone, anyone, to come and find him. Essentially, Springtrap is a lost child at a supermarket looking for his mummy, he just wants to see a human face and hear a human voice, something to break the monotony and loneliness of existing in an empty metal shell trapped within the confines of a ruined pizza place.

It's poetic. It rhymes. He gets the ultimate comeuppance. That's where I think FNAF should end.

I didn't really care for named characters or backstories because, for me, I really felt the horror from the fact that there was so little context. It made the events of the game feel like they could happen in real life, anywhere and to anyone. It grounded the horror; as well as making the story straightforward enough to avoid plot holes, contradictions, and/ or a timeline that winds around like spaghetti... I won't even delve into the madness that is timetravelling ballpits and giving birth to a baby springbonnie like it's a chestburster from Alien????

Anways, I digress. Basically, there are no names, no faces and only mystery. No Afton. Just Purple Guy. He was just a man. You didn't know why he did what he did and you didn't know what he wanted to do with you in FNAF 3. What you did know, however, was to save the the theorising for after the shift because he screamed danger.

I think my favourite interpretation of Springtrap has to be 'Springtrap and Deliah'. It's clear the guy is craving human connection after being holed up in b-tech Chuck. E. Cheese for decades, and you almost feel bad for him... until you remember this man killed and he could do it again. He's not a good person, even though he's trying to be... that man is dangerous and him doing little about the danger he poses to Deliah, and everyone around him is only making it worse. He's selfish. He wants Deliah for himself. This care he shows for Deliah may come from a place of wanting to be better, but it's being done from a place of greed and possessiveness. He controls Deliah like he controlled those kids' lives, as shown by him ending them prematurely. And that's terrifying. Springtrap in this comic deceives you into thinking he's a harmless, lonely man when in reality he could very well slaughter someone and not think twice if it means keeping Deliah to himself.

That is who Springtrap is to me. A miserable, lonely man who is craving human interaction, but can't escape the consequences of his actions. He did what he did, and whether we feel bad for him or not, he's getting punishment for it. Springtrap is purgatory.

[lemon-inferno]

Reborn Rich episode 5 and 6 ✔️

⚠️Obiously a spoiler alert. You can't be reading about episodes halfway into the show and not expect any.

This time I don’t really have much to say. There are very few things I want to mark on, mostly from episode five.

First, I’ve never been a fan of romance. The fact that romance is coming to be a bit more into play in the show is… Well, it’s not bothering me per se, but it’s one of those things that I’ll always hope to see the least of. It’s not a critique towards the drama itself, just not my thing AT ALL. That being said, the elevator scene with Mo Hyun Min was so corny I almost died watching it. The café one as well, but that was a little better because I love seeing a cheeky Do Jun.

I do think Do Jun going for Hyun Min is a huge mistake (this was hinted at the preview for episode seven), also I just don’t like it plot wise. I’m slightly worried how that will alter the future events that Hyun Woo went through. I’ve been worried about how they’re going to make sense of the future, because Do Jun has been running around doing a lot of things that weren’t supposed to happen that way, on a large scale, in Hyun Woo’s past. However, the fact that Do Jun’s past (future) life mother died anyways is some sort of relief, as sad as it was. It means that even if the situation changes the outcome more or less remains the same. I hope they’ve found a way to implement the same logic with other events too. If this show ends up being about Do Jun arriving to a dystopian future he created himself and realizing revenge wasn’t worth it because of it, I’ll be so done with this drama. Still, I think the chances of that being the actual end are very, very small.

Another thing about the past and future, and past again. We already know that Hyun Woo still exists as someone else in Do Jun’s life. I’m curious whether he’ll end up on the same path as the other Hyun Woo. Will he end up working in one of Soonyang’s factories and reading that book again? Will he end up working in the company as the Soonyang’s boy for everything again? Will we get to see Do Jun teaming up with his past self? I don’t know how big the chances of that are, but as we saw Hyun Woo still exists, it would be a shame if he hasn’t been brought into the plot and Do Jun’s life. I really want to see it.

The last thing is, I love how intense the relationship between Do Jun and his grandfather has been. I can’t wait for the next episode where they finally face each other. At the end of episode six when he introduced himself as the majority shareholder of Miracle, I got chills. I’m scared how this will end for him, as I still have my suspicions that Se Hyun might turn on him (plus we all know there’s always that moment when they give you main character crisis). At the same time I can’t wait to see everyone’s faces when they realize Do Jun has been screwing them over all along (and he keeps doing it).

I hope the romance doesn’t become a big part of this drama though. Not gonna line, it would ruin my experience just a little bit, but that’s just me. I can’t stress enough how anti-romantic I am. That’s the main reason why I struggle with kdrama especially. And just to make it clear, again, it’s not a critique towards the drama, just a remon thing.

[queen-scribbles]

Who are your 3 least favorite Swtor companions and why?

heh heh hoo boy. Details behind a cut so people don't have to read me venting about potential faves in a couple cases, but tl;dr is Kaliyo, Skadge, both of whom I strongly dislike, and either Vik or Lana(not nearly as strong).

1.Absolute hands down least favorite is Kaliyo. I legit hate her. She's self-centered, vindictive, and thinks it's funny to ruin people's lives. I literally won't even talk to her any more when I play Agents. She spends the ENTIRE GAME with a little yellow triangle over her head bc I refuse to engage. I did her convos/quest with Jaaide, my first Agent, up til the Anspi'shel thing, then stopped when she wanted to sell Anspi'shel to a life of slavery or worse bc it'd be funny revenge for some not-nearly-deserving of That "transgression". Jaaide wanted to punch her in the face and never spoke another word to her the game didn't make me. I watched her romance on youtube and it did her no favors. AND THEN we get to her presence in KotFE. Making all of Zakuul suffer bc of what their leadership did? Outright terrorism? I wouldn't recruit her ever if you didn't have to. The way I always do ch 12/13 is telling Jorgan to destroy the GEMINI signal and then telling Kaliyo to stay put. Which she ignores, and gets Havoc killed. And then refuses to accept responsibility for it. ("If they're so good, why are they dead?" Hmm, maybe bc you were throwing thermal detonators in an enclosed space????? THAT MIGHT'VE DONE IT) She usually dies there, unless I'm trying to keep the toon 100% light side, and there's a few that got through there before I figured out how you get the option. *Sidenote: makes me love Jorgan even more that he disapproves if you kill her. He can't stand her, is currently furious at her bc she got his team killed, and he still thinks executing her is Too Far for punishment. Honestly, if there was a Jail option like you get for Saresh in KotET, I'd do that instead of killing her. But I'm not letting a vengeful, psychotic anarchist who knows the location of my secret base just LEAVE, and I can't let what she just did go unpunished, so death it is.

2. Skadge is... Skadge. The threatening to shoot you and steal your ship if you don't agree to let him come along? Yeah, all my Hunters were ready to shoot him and dump him in the lava for that alone. BUT I will talk to him for the xp, so he's slightly less hated than Kaliyo. Still kill him in Rusk's alliance alert though /cough

3. Okay so this is a sharp drop off from the other ones. Kaliyo and Skadge I actively dislike/hate, this one is much more.... barely wavering to the negative side of neutral. Vik annoys me and I wish we could have Fuse if he was alive instead. He's selfish, and way too willing to throw away other peoples' lives for his personal gain.

Lana I don't hate, or feel strongly about at all, it's just... between her Developers' Baby plot armor so she doesn't die(like Koth, Theron, and Senya can) or lose anyone important from her life(like Theron can *glares at WFI and JUS*) and her "Whatever you think is Best" attitude, I'm not crazy about her. I don't like Yes Man companions in general(why I like Carver better than Bethany in DA2), so anytime we get someone who's just blindly supportive of the player character they rub me the wrong way. It's more a problem I have with the archetype than her specifically. (Not to mention the numerous things she's a hypocrite about) I don't mind her as a character or roll my eyes and groan when I have to talk with her, and I'm even running her romance on a couple toons(it's AMAZING with a smuggler). She's just not my favorite.

[swanimagines]

CRIMSON AND BLACK | KAZ BREKKER

FREDDY EVENT, send in requests for any of Freddy Carter's characters (NOT the man himself (= no Freddy Carter (the real person) x readers), only his characters)!! The event will be on for an indefinite time, if you're unsure, see if the event post is pinned. If it is, then it's still on. (Other requests are open too, but they go to my normal to-do list which I'm not able to start doing anytime soon)

Summary: Y/N has suffered a lot since her childhood, making her to be someone children were scared to see in Ketterdam. Then she meets someone who she can finally relate to, and that feeling wants to grow into something more. requested by anon

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

Characters: Y/N (female), Kaz Brekker, mentions about the Crows + mentions about Jordie, Pekka Rollins and reader's parents.

Warnings: trauma, mentions of violence, death, blood, descriptions of torture, I also used some exact dialogue from the book at one part because of a Marvelous Plot Twist™. Also they are in their 20's at the end of the fic because of the show.

Word count: 1.6k

Ever since you were born, your parents had been gathering money to move away from Ketterdam. Move somewhere safer to raise you. Your mother had become pregnant accidentally, they weren't meaning to have kids - not in that age, they were barely 19 when they had you. But they kept you, falling in love with you the moment they saw you. You were poor, but a happy family anyway.

Finally, when you were nine years old, your parents found a solution. A kind merchant had offered to help you move to Ravka, have land, enough food for the rest of your lives and the most important of all, you'd be safe from all those filthy criminals that tormented Ketterdam. You'd get a happy childhood, the one your parents had always dreamed of you to have.

Hope had gotten the best of them, and the man turned out to be a very skillful conman, and soon you found yourselves at the street, penniless and hungry. The greed of Ketterdam had swallowed your happiness and later, after the Plague taking them, you had swore for revenge against the man who had tricked you.

Robbert van Delden, the name would sit as tight in your head that it could as well be tattooed in your brain for as long as it needed. Until you'd get him killed by your own gun - no, blade. You wanted to make him suffer for as long as possible. You wanted his life to end in agony, his blood coating the walls as you'd beat him and slash him, hearing his screams, begs of mercy, finally him begging you to just kill him. But you wouldn't, you'd torture him until he wouldn't have the strength to scream anymore, and then leave him there to bleed out, or to die from thirst or hunger. You would have gotten your revenge.

And then maybe you wouldn't feel so empty inside anymore. Maybe you could even move on after that. It was the only thing that kept you going anymore. To take down that monster called Robbert van Delden once and for all.

You met a boy your age not long after who had gone through a lot too. You told him about van Delden, and he, in return, told you about Hertzoon. You figured that Ketterdam had a lot of twisted merchants, maybe van Delden and Hertzoon had even worked together, due to so similar and calculated pattern.

You learned the boy was named Kaz, and you introduced yourself as well, and so you began working together. You tricked people, Kaz had found out that he was really skilled with cards and lockpicking, and taught you too. You stole food together, two minds thinking better than just one. The only difference with your personality and wit was that he didn't stand touch, where you had no problem with it. You bought a pair of leather gloves for him just so he'd stand it just a little bit better, and soon you two were known for being so young, but with your skills being extraordinary. People had tried to offer you a place in their gangs, but you had always said no, you planned to kill those two merchants that had ruined your lives, help each other hunt them down, and then leave Ketterdam. Maybe you'd stay together, maybe you'd separate after that, but the main focus was to kill van Delden and Hertzoon.

Despite all your will to have revenge, neither of you didn't think to actually meet the merchants ever again - until one day, years after living in streets with Kaz, you saw him. Van Delden stood there at the shop, and Kaz seemed to freeze too when he saw him. Without even thinking, you both pushed through the crowd, but were stopped by a giant bruiser.

"Shop's closed." he grunted at you, looking at Kaz and you, probably noticing the identical storms in your eyes.

"I can see it's open." Kaz growled at the big guy.

"You'll have to wait."

Kaz was starting to lose the last of his patience, as he growled, "I need to see Jakob Hertzoon."

The brute raised his eyebrows. "Who?"

Kaz looked at him with eyes that would have scared you if he looked at you like that. He looked like he could have stabbed the brute right there as his hand shot out to point at the window, and you noticed he was pointing at van Delden - and you understood. "Jakob fucking Hertzoon. I want to talk to him."

The bruiser looked at you two like you were out of your minds. "Get your head straight, lad. That ain't no Hertzoon. That's Pekka Rollins. Want to get anywhere at the Barrel, you'd best learn his name. Now get out of here, both of you."

Kaz pursed his lips, clearly wanting to keep arguing. But instead, he took a few breaths and then turned around, disappearing into the crowd again. You followed, trying to keep up with Kaz. You had seen him angry before, but now he looked more furious than ever before.

You had walked through the streets for a while, not talking, Kaz trying to let his steaming anger out the best he could. When he finally stopped by your squat, legs basically quivering from all the walking, you had gone inside and sat down with him, offering him a drink which he accepted.

"They were both Pekka Rollins," you mumbled after a few minutes of you sitting there quietly. "They're all the same person."

Kaz turned to look at you slowly, frowning slightly. "What?"

"Van Delden. Hertzoon. Rollins. They're the same person."

Suddenly, it dawned to him too. That's why it had been so similar pattern, how in sync they had acted. Rollins knew how to charm fools - children, parents, every poor person. Milk all the money he could possibly get off of people, and use their trust to trick them. It didn't matter who got hurt.

You both laid awake that night on your makeshift beds that were closer than most at the squat, but not too close. You could have used each other's warmth, but you always respected Kaz's boundaries with everything. So you were just staring at the roof quietly, planning what to do next. Eventually, you came into a conclusion that it would be the best to join a gang - Dregs, to be exact. Become equals to Rollins, feared, ruthless, respected. The kinds children would be scared with so they would not run off too far. So that day, you went straight to the Slat, asked to see Per Haskell and joined the Dregs. You'd be rising in ranks in no time - your hate and will for revenge would take care of it.

---

It had been ten years from that moment, and everything had gone like you planned. You both were Per Haskell's right hands, running the business for him. Most respected you more than they respected Haskell - only newbies didn't, because they hadn't seen you in action.

You were always buried in work together, planning for heists. Inej came by every once in a while, providing you information about your new target for a heist before slipping away again. Over the years, you had gathered a group of the most trusted people and called yourselves the Crows. You were closely working together, often pulling heists only by the seven of you.

But at some point of your partnership, after working so closely with Kaz - you had noticed you had developed new feelings for him, past partnership, past your friendship. They had been brewing for years, ever since you were teenagers, but it took a lot more time to catch what was it.

Feelings.

For someone like Kaz Brekker.

Other Crows had of course noticed it. Maybe you had too, but you had ignored it for ages. They also claimed that Kaz clearly loves you too, but one of you had to come forward in order to find happiness. But at least that couldn't be true, even if your feelings were true, there was no way Kaz's would be.

And even if they were, you didn't believe you'd be ready to anything romantic. Loving someone didn't fit into your life situation, in your plans. Happiness was overrated, you didn't need happiness, you needed revenge. Just like Kaz needed that too.

So you kept ignoring those feelings, pretending you weren't feeling something deeper than friendship towards him.

And unbeknownst to you, but Kaz did the exactly same thing. He ignored his feelings, his deep affection towards you. He believed you wouldn't like him back anyway, and even if you did, some silly romance would only distract you. It was better to have a professional relationship - maybe somewhat friendly, even. Kaz didn't want friends, nor did he need them, but he still thought of you as a friend. You had stood by him since he was just a boy, just like he had stood by you. You understood each other more than anyone else, and when you worked together, things were done efficiently.

That's why he never said anything, and neither did you. Maybe in the future, when things had gotten better, or then not. But whatever would happen, you'd always have a special place for each other, just a little bit of warmth in your cold hearts.

---

If you enjoyed this oneshot, PLEASE INTERACT BEYOND JUST LIKES!! The ratio between likes to comments and reblogs is really discouraging for writers and a lot of us have already left the community because of it...

Kaz taglist for the Freddy event: @scandalous-chaos @brekkers-desigirl @bb-skyrunner // send in an ask to be added, and specify which of Freddy's characters do you want to be tagged on! (This taglist is for Freddy event only, I won't take character taglists for anyone else than Freddy's characters)

[veliseraptor]

okay but now i'm Very Interested in your thoughts on nhs 👀 (if you've already talked about just link me to the post ajnsqjns)

oh man I don't even remember what this was talking about/was in response to (perils of delaying responding to asks but not noting any context or anything to indicate what they were about) but I guess??? I can ramble anyway

so the thing about me and Nie Huaisang is that I don’t talk about him that much, mostly because I...very much do not vibe with what feels like the predominant fandom interpretation/treatment of him (at least, that I see; ydinmd etc.). I see a lot of nie huaisang as this...overall well intentioned, good-natured, benevolent, but also a master manipulator, but, like, the good kind. and that’s just not...I mean, for one thing I just find that not that interesting and for another thing it doesn’t feel accurate to me as far as I read his character.

putting under a read more because this got...long. no textual analysis this time just a lot of rambling and opinions mostly

like...the shorthand I’ve used with friends talking about Nie Huaisang is that I only like Nie Huaisang when he’s mean, and while that’s a little bit simplistic it does kind of get at the core of my Nie Huaisang feelings. and I don’t think that was always true! but I also don’t think he was necessarily this harmless good and sweet boy when he was younger, either. I think he was careless, with a tendency toward laziness and indolence; a little bit spoiled even though he does face his brother’s disapproval. he is the baby brother! and he is kind of Baby. and I don’t necessarily mean that in a bad way, either - he is a kid (or, a young teenager) and he should have the chance to be a kid, and it feels like in some ways he’s fighting for just that.

but I also think he isn’t, like. super altruistic. he’s just not really looking outside himself. like most of the Gusu Summer Camp generation, he’s a little myopic. again, fair! he is a teenager and that’s kind of what teenagers are like.

but the Nie Huaisang I’m actually interested in is the one that takes shape after Nie Mingjue’s death, and that’s a Nie Huaisang who zeroes in on taking revenge for his beloved brother to the exclusion of all else.

canonically, the Nie Sect has fallen into...if not disrepute, at least disdain, under Nie Huaisang’s authority - most likely (at least in part) as part of his ruse of being completely useless and nonthreatening. the reputation he has indicates that he’s to a greater or lesser degree letting the inhabitants of Qinghe fend for themselves (”if this were the old Nie Sect this problem would’ve been taken care of right away”, says the Know-It-All of Qinghe, and while the problem he’s talking about isn’t a real problem...it suggests that the same is true more generally). that’s a choice he makes, and as a sect leader it’s a deeply irresponsible one. but the revenge plot takes priority.

in the novel, it is explicitly Nie Huaisang who lures the juniors into danger in Yi City, where they would be at serious risk (and I’d argue it makes sense to be him in CQL as well, though there’s no definitive indication). he also places the Lan juniors at risk at Mo Manor - with the belief that they’ll have rescuers in both cases, but there’s no certainty that no one would come to harm, potentially mortal harm, before that rescue. and I don’t think Nie Huaisang is unaware of that - it just, again, is worth it to him.

and there’s other places, too, over and over, where we see this willingness to accept significant collateral damage in service of Jin Guangyao’s utter ruin. (his death isn’t enough - he truly is set on salting and burning the earth of his entire life and legacy.) Qin Su is a collateral victim - not necessarily a predicted one, certainly, but telling her the truth about her relationship to Jin Guangyao was going to destroy her life one way or another, and that was an acceptable casualty. Lan Xichen is an acceptable casualty. (Maybe he even deserves it, in Nie Huaisang’s view, for “enabling” Jin Guangyao - for taking Jin Guangyao’s “side.”)

and there’s the fact of Wei Wuxian’s resurrection as well. whatever role you believe Nie Huaisang did or didn’t play in Mo Xuanyu’s decision to sacrifice himself bringing him back (and I’m inclined to think some, at least, on account of...it’s too perfect a coincidence otherwise), that’s another death (utter destruction) - and it’s also dragging Wei Wuxian back into the world of the living (which is, incidentally, a pretty big no-no in cultural terms). furthermore, Nie Huaisang does not actually know how that’s going to go, or what condition Wei Wuxian will be in, or what he’ll be like. certainly he’s not concerned with Wei Wuxian’s wishes, or what kind of havoc might result from his coming back. whatever consequences there might be - and it’s easy to think of several, even if they didn’t happen - Nie Huaisang deems them acceptable.

I know that there’s...a desire, certainly, to be grateful for the role Nie Huaisang plays in precipitating Wei Wuxian’s resurrection. of course! he’s our protagonist, we’re glad to have him back, we know he didn’t “deserve” to die. I see a lot of (I presume joke, but how much is debatable) posts about how Nie Huaisang Said Gay Rights or whatever, and while I think Nie Huaisang wanting his friend back was a factor, I certainly don’t think that his precipitating Wei Wuxian’s resurrection was, at its core, about righting a wrong or improving his friends’ lives.

it was about the same thing that his actions were about the whole time: revenge for Nie Mingjue. first, foremost, and above all, whatever it costs.

(this isn’t digging into my feelings about “Nie Huaisang as master manipulator” partly because I feel like those can be summed up by that one post that’s like ‘Jin Guangyao is playing four dimensional chess against the whole cultivation world and Nie Huaisang is eating the pieces when he isn’t looking.’)

so! I feel like when I write all this out it looks like “okay Lise but this sounds like you hate Nie Huaisang” and the fact is that I don’t! I mean, I wouldn’t say I like him, but all the above is what makes me find him interesting. because a character who makes the conscious decision to burn the world down on behalf of someone they loved, believing themselves justified or at the very least not caring if they are or not, because the goal takes priority, first and foremost - especially when there can be some question of whether the person that they’re avenging would appreciate the means taken to those ends, as I think there is here, actually - that’s a character I find compelling.

particularly because of a theme underlying, at least in my perception: that more often than not, when you pursue the destruction of others, ultimately you end up destroying yourself.

or at the very least paying a higher price than you meant to.

[five-rivers]

Solutions to Nonlinear Equations

For @currentlylurking for the Phic Phight.  :)

.

“Ancients, Vlad.  I’m not rejecting you because I’m a rebellious teenager and you’re an adult, I’m rejecting you because you’re incredibly creepy.”

Vlad sniffed in what he hoped was an aristocratic manner and raised an eyebrow, minutely adjusting his grip on Daniel to keep him pinned to the floor.  

“We’re human-ghost hybrids, Daniel.  I’d hoped that you’d have realized by now that we are meant to be ‘creepy.’”

Daniel squirmed and began to mutter into the carpet. “Clockwork never acts like this, I’m fine with him—”

Vlad pulled back as if burned.  He hadn’t heard that name in—in—

In a long time.  

Years.  

The thought was almost expelled from his head when Daniel managed to elbow him in the jaw hard enough to make him see stars. Before he knew it, Daniel had slipped from his grasp and zoomed away.  

Whatever aspersions Vlad cast on Daniel’s mastery of his ghostly abilities, the boy was fast.  When he put his mind to escaping instead of picking a fight, he managed it more often than not, to Vlad’s great frustration.  Hence Vlad’s usual strategy of needling the younger half-ghost until fighting was the only thing on Daniel’s mind.  

He set down on a nearby roof.  There went his plans for the day.  Which, admittedly, had consisted of distracting Daniel while his ghostly minions set up a nasty surprise for him at the school, hence making him fail his test, which would, in turn, convince Maddie and Jack to let Vlad set Daniel up with a tutor, something he had suggested to them earlier, and—

Well.  Daniel would find them, now, no doubt.  

Ah, well.  

He had more important things on his mind, now.  Such as, how in two worlds did Daniel know Clockwork?  Because Daniel never just said things like that.  He barely knew anything about ghost culture.  He wouldn’t know to bring up obscure, secretive, ghost historical figures.  He wouldn’t know what that particular name would mean to Vlad.  

Tongues of fire flared out of his fingers, bringing a measure of stability to the gyrations of his core and his emotions.  

Daniel knew Clockwork.  And, it seemed, met him with some regularity.  Enough for him to compare his actions to Vlad’s.  

Would that ghost never be satisfied with ruining Vlad’s life?  Was he not satisfied with—

He cut off the thought, shaking his head.  Never mind that.  

What Vlad needed to do was find Clockwork.  Which meant inducing Danny to go to him at a time when Vlad when Vlad could follow.  Which meant determining when he had visited Clockwork in the past.  An undertaking to be sure.  

He closed his eyes and teleported to his lab beneath his mansion.  

“Maddie!” he called out, even before his body had fully reformed.  

The hologram flickered to life with a faint crackled from the projector.  “What is it, sugarpie?” it asked with a smile.

“Review the audio recordings from Fentonworks,” ordered Vlad.  “Search for the term ‘Clockwork.’  Report findings to me.”

“Sure thing, honey!”

Vlad had to review the cheerfulness settings on the Maddie program.  Maddie was upbeat, but not that upbeat.  This was almost sickly sweet.  

He threw himself into a nearby chair.  

Clockwork.  He thought he’d never hear that name again.  Not after he’d been literally and figuratively ghosted by him.  

He telekinetically pulled a book off his shelf. He ran his fingers over the leather tooling on the cover.  The book had been given to him by Clockwork, years ago, when he was still in that hospital.

Clockwork had been the one to first show him the Ghost Zone, and all the wonders in it.  Clockwork had been his friend, his only friend, through that long, agonizing hospital stay. He had been supportive, wonderful, kind. He visited often, though not on a regular schedule.  He’d helped Vlad ride out the waves of misery and anger that so often threatened to overwhelm him.  

Then, without warning, nothing.  

No goodbye.  The last time he left, he had even said something along the lines of ‘see you soon,’ although the memory was frayed from age and Vlad could no longer recall the exact words.  For a long time, Vlad had worried something disastrous had happened to Clockwork. But then he had finally managed to build his own portal, reach the Ghost Zone under his own power, and, according to every search he did, every line of inquiry that bore fruit, Clockwork was just fine.  

Vlad had been furious.  He had been betrayed.  He had spent the better half of a decade trying to plot revenge against Clockwork, before realizing that was akin to plotting revenge against a god and turning his sights to a more manageable target.  

Now…

Now, Vlad just wanted answers.  Both as to the reason behind his abandonment and as to why Clockwork was apparently repeating history with Daniel.  

“Sweetie pie,” said the hologram, with a chime, “audio processing complete.  There are over ninety-nine instances where the word ‘clockwork’ is mentioned.  Would you like to play the selected files?”

“Yes,” said Vlad.  “Include the video portions where available, and the thirty seconds immediately prior to and following the mention.”

He turned his attention to the nearest screen.  He had a lot of videos to watch.  

There was an envelope pinned to it.  It was sealed with wax, impressed with the image of a pocket watch and the initials CW.  Vlad attempted, and failed, to suppress the growl that grew in the back of his throat. Was this a joke to Clockwork?

He tore the envelope from the screen, ripped it open with equal viciousness, and began to read.

.

Three cups sat on the tea service tray next to the teapot.

“Are you expecting someone else,” asked Danny, “or am I going to break one of these?”

Clockwork chuckled as he began to pour the tea.  “The former,” he said.  “Although you may always surprise me with the latter.”

He handed Danny his cup.  Danny inhaled deeply.  It smelled sweet.  “What is it?” he asked.  

“A chamomile blend,” said Clockwork.  “For calm.”

“I think Sam drinks chamomile before she goes to bed,” observed Danny, offhandedly.  “Who’s coming?”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

Danny made a face.  “Do you have to be mysterious all—”

The front door of Clockwork’s lair slammed open, and Danny jolted forward in alarm – the only people who regularly did that were the Observants, who didn’t much care for Danny – but Clockwork put a steadying hand on his shoulder and rewound his tea into his cup.

“Clockwork!” came the expected yell.  The yeller, however…

“Is that Vlad?” asked Danny, not quite scandalized, but more than a little surprised.  

“Why, yes,” said Clockwork.  

“Did you – Clockwork, did you invite him here?”

“Other than the Observants,” said Clockwork, “no one can enter unless I will it.”  He took a sip of his tea.  

“But,” started Danny.  

Clockwork raised a hand.  “Don’t worry, he’ll find us soon enough.”  He repurposed the hand to pat Danny’s knee.  “And even should he prove to be in a combative mood, I will not allow you to come to harm.  You are safe here, Daniel.”

“Thanks,” mumbled Danny, looking away, towards the door in the sitting room through which Vlad would presumably enter.  

Sure enough, a few seconds later Vlad half-flew half-skidded into Clockwork’s sitting room.  He leveled an accusatory finger at Clockwork.  “You!” he proclaimed, with a great deal of venom.  

“Hello, Vladimir, I’ve poured you some tea.  Why don’t you sit down?  I understand it has been some time.”

“You under-?  No!  I will not sit down!  I will not drink your tea.  Not after you abandoned me for over a decade, just like that bumbling oaf—”

“Hey!” interjected Danny, not only because Vlad had once again insulted his father, but because he could tell that Clockwork, regardless of his stoic façade, was actually quite upset.  

“Don’t interrupt me, Daniel,” snapped Vlad.  “You don’t know what this, this ghost is. What he does.  You don’t know that he gets close to you, makes you think you’re friends, and then drops you without a moment’s notice.  Did you think it was funny to string along a man in dire straits? Did you?”

“I did not abandon you, Vladimir, I—”

Vlad scoffed and went on a tirade that Danny honestly found hard to parse.  But it sounded like Vlad and Clockwork had known each other in the past and then fallen out of contact in a way that aggravated Vlad’s abandonment issues.  Which didn’t seem like Clockwork at all, but Vlad sounded extremely certain and insistent, and Clockwork’s upset was actually finding its way into his voice, now.  Danny didn’t—

With all the force and abruptness of epiphany, Danny realized what was going on here.  

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Danny, putting down his cup. “Vlad, breathe or whatever.  Clockwork, you did tell Vlad that you experience time nonlinearly, right?”

“Of course,” said Clockwork, clearly offended.

“But Vlad, ah, had you gone through natural portals often when you met Clockwork?  Or, like, did you ever see him without him initiating contact?”

“I didn’t have my portal built yet, Daniel, so, no.”

Danny turned to Clockwork.  “Why did you-?  No that doesn’t matter.  Haaauuuhh, Clockwork, do you have-?”

Clockwork waved a hand and a whiteboard appeared.  

“Thanks,” said Danny, picking a marker up from the little shelf on the bottom.  He uncapped it, then recapped it.  “Actually, before that.  Vlad—” he pointed at Vlad, who looked about one second from exploding “—you have some idea of how old Clockwork is, right?  Or at least how old ghosts can get?”

“Yes, Daniel,” said Vlad, managing to overlay his supercilious ‘I know better than you’ attitude over his still obvious anger.

“Okay, great.  So, just to establish, Clockwork has been around at least since, uh, beginning of time?”

“Give or take,” agreed Clockwork.  “Although I have not experienced it all directly.”

“Right,” said Danny.  “Just, already, his perception of time is different from our because of age differences.”

Vlad looked slightly less angry, and slightly closer to curious.  

“But, then, there’s the larger issue,” continued Danny.  This time his uncapping of the marker was decisive.  He drew a flat, straight, horizontal line across the whiteboard.  “This is our timeline.  We deal with time linearly.  We’ve also got, I don’t know, parallel timelines, like this.”  He drew several more lines.  “You following so far?”

“Yes, Daniel, I’ve read my share of science fiction.”

He was probably rolling his eyes.  Curse his solid-colored red eyes.  It made interpreting his looks and figuring out where he was looking during a fight much more difficult.  

“Anyway, Clockwork isn’t on any of these lines. Because he experiences time nonlinearly.”  He drew a squiggly up and down line on the board that resembled the world’s saddest sine wave.  Or cosine wave.  There wasn’t a y-axis on the not-quite-graph, so it wasn’t like anyone could tell the difference.  They were effectively the same.  

And Vlad still made fun of him for failing math. Danny knew plenty about math.  He just didn’t have time to do the work.  Mostly because of Vlad.  

“Now, that, that is Clockwork’s timeline.  It isn’t always in contact with ours.  It’s, like, solutions to a system of equations. Nonlinear equations,” he specified, in case it had been too long since Vlad had encountered basic high-school-level algebra.

“It is somewhat more complicated than that, Daniel,” said Clockwork, exasperated.  “It’s more of—"  

“Yeah, but this gets the idea across more than the whole parade metaphor, doesn’t it?”

“I would say not.  This doesn’t even begin to touch on my abilities.”

“That’s because we’re just talking about your perception of time,” said Danny.  He considered for a moment.  “And also your ability to interact with our timeline.”

“Which includes my ability to perceive multiple timelines.”

“But that’s complicated, and I still don’t get it,” complained Danny.  

“It is less complicated than what you are currently trying to explain.”

“To you maybe, but the whole point of this is that you aren’t seeing things the same way we are.  You disappeared on Vlad, what, a decade ago?”  He looked to Vlad for confirmation.  

“A decade is hardly any time at all,” said Clockwork with exasperation.  He sipped at his tea.  

“It was fifteen years.”

Clockwork made a somewhat dismissive motion with a gloved hand.  “It’s a tiny fraction of your life as a whole.”

“It’s… closer to a third of his current lifetime,” said Danny with a wince.  “Or a fourth?  I don’t know how old you are, dude.”

“I went to college with your parents.”

“I know, and you were already graying then. Your age is weirdly hard to place.”

Vlad gave Danny a look, but his body language was no longer screaming ‘I’m going to beat the snot after you.’  Danny counted that as a win under the current circumstances.  He disliked Vlad, but in a fight with Clockwork… Well, Clockwork could demolish just about anyone.  

Not that Clockwork would.  Just that he could.  

“Daniel—”

“Please, Vladimir.  Just sit down.  Try the tea. I made it for you.  I knew you would be upset, although I could not see exactly why.”  Clockwork was almost pouting, now.  “Fifteen years is such a short time.”

“Clockwork, I’m fifteen.”

“I know,” said Clockwork, patting Danny on the knee. “Your timeline is so small.  And cute.”

Vlad was now distinctly on his back foot, offput and disarmed.  “His timeline is cute?”

“It is.  Don’t worry, yours is almost as cute.”

Vlad opened and closed his mouth like a dying fish. Danny pushed the whiteboard away.

“Don’t worry about it too much,” he said.  “Like I said, different perception of time.”

“I really didn’t mean to make you feel abandoned, Vladimir.  I simply wanted to give you some time to, ah, how should I put this?  Have space?  Find yourself?”

Vlad sat heavily on the couch.  

“You get used to it,” said Danny.  “But, Clockwork, do you think you can talk him into having fewer evil plans?  Because, really.  There are way too many.  Like, one a week.  They’re destroying my grades.  Have you ever seen anyone else who had weekly evil plans?”

“Evil plans, Vladimir?  Really?”

[yall-hate-kids-tourney]

Round 2: Nanami Kiryuu (Revolutionary Girl Utena) vs. Ken Amada (Persona 3)

Propaganda below the cut

Nanami Kiryuu:

In a show where major characters regularly engage in domestic violence and sexual abuse, the one character fans hated for decades was the 13-year-old grooming victim who tried to bully her peers to gain some semblance of control in her life. She wasn't even good at it

(Mod note: Please be advised that RGU contains dark themes beyond what has already been tagged if you plan to look into it. A comprehensive list of content warnings can be found here)

Ken Amada:

y'all are all for "murder and revenge plots" until is a 10 y/o boy who watched his mother die and started to become conflicted after realizing his moms killer is a secretly kind traumatized teenager to the point where the 10 y/o boy attempts to kill himself by giving himself up to assassins.

bro he's 10.

----

ken amada is such an interesting character with the unfortunate circumstances of having little screentime and atlus deciding to ruin his reputation forever by giving him a romance choice in the fem protag route. ken is a child who lost his mother at NINE. nobody ever believed him when he said that she was murdered, and that he saw who killed her. hes miserable, and all everyone around him does is give him sympathy while hes suffering and was forced to grow up before even going into middle school. hes angry and determined to get revenge on the person who killed his mother, and he doesnt even see the own value in living anymore beyond getting that revenge. hes more mature than most of his peers, and is desperate to be seen as an adult.but at the same time, he is still a child who likes superhero shows.

----

OH GOD WHERE DO I START

First there's the normal "The fandom hates kids" complaints of "He's so whiny" "he's so annoying" "oh my god kid just SHUT UP" y'know, the typical fandom stuff that makes you wonder if these people have ever talked to a child in their life

Second, there's (spoilers)...

October 4th, and the ENTIRE FANDOM is calling this kid a murderer.

For context, the moment in question doesn't necessarily paint him in the best light but its still understandable. Your team is going on a mission while Ken and another character named Shinjiro are away. In an alleyway, they have a talk where it is revealed that on that night a year priar to the game, Kens mom was killed in that allleyway by Shinjiro's Persona (Which, by the Rules of the Game Lore, basically means By Shinjiro). Ken tried to tell the authorities, the authorities didn't believe him because Magic Reasons and the death was ruled an accident.

Of course Ken is Fucking Pissed and wants revenge

However, because of Talk, he ACTIVELY CALMS DOWN, and realises "Hey, I probably shouldn't kill someone. Despite them, y'know, killing my mom"

HOWEVER REVOLVER JESUS COMES IN AND RUINS EVERYTHING BY SHOOTING SHINJIRO. AND LIKE, IF YOU PLAY P3P YOU CAN /AVOID THE DEATH THING/

AND EVERYONE BLAMES /KEN/. AND ONLY KEN.

And third (yes, there's a THIRD) IS THE FUCKING FEMC ROMANCE THING. WHICH JUST...SHOULDN'T HAVE EXISTED IN THE FIRST PLACE. BUT NOW HE'S "SHOTA BAIT" BECAUSE WE HAVE TO BLAME THE CHILD FOR THE AUTHORITY FIGURE COMING ONTO THEM 😒

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Summer Break(down)

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, weed, breeding/forced pregnancy.

This is dark!Lee Bodecker and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Based on this drabble request: Lee + interrogation + breeding/forced pregnancy + “you think your father would still love you if he knew?”+ Reader is mayor's daughter and get caught by Lee) smoking weed , so she is forced to give her purity to him +  Reader is a sweet innocent girl that refuses Bodecker's advances, which makes him very angry so he forcefully gets her pregnant in a fucked up revenge plot to ruin her life and leave her as the scarlet letter in town.  Requested by anon and @jaceyneedsabetterusername​

You puffed the smoke and coughed it up in a painful cloud. Your throat burned as the acrid taste stained your tongue. You held out the burning joint to Darla and she chuckled as she watched you struggle. She took a log drag and blew rings in the air and handed it off to Mia.

“A whole year at college and you ain’t never tried it,” Darla teased, “what are ya doin’ up there?”

“Studying,” you rubbed your throat and refused another hit as your eyes watered, “you know how my daddy is.”

“Your daddy ain’t livin’ on campus, is he?” Mia trilled, “perfect little mayor’s daughter with her purity ring.”

“Shut up,” you growled, “if I got caught I’d be expelled, okay? I’m here now tryin’ it, aren’t I?”

“Ain’t ya?” Darla mocked, “is that how you talk now? So proper.”

“Christ, what’s gotten into you?” you waved away the smoke as she blew it in your face, “you miss me that much?”

“Nah,” she gave the stubby joint to Mia, “you just actin’ like you’re too good for us now.”

“How so? I’ve been nothing but nice--”

“Nice and sweet and perfect,” Darla muttered, “you running back to your dorm in the fall and I gotta wipe tables down as the eat-in.”

You were quite as her resent bit deep into you. It wasn’t like you made the decision yourself, your daddy would have skinned you if you hadn’t gone up to the all-girls academy. He held a prestigious office, he often reminded you, and you were just another merit on his record. You needed uphold his reputation as if it were your own.

Mia snorted dryly and offered you the joint again. Her face dropped as an arm reached around you, her reddened eyes glossy as the dwindling smoke was taken from her. You turned and backed away as the sheriff waved the joint in front of him and sniffed the air.

“I knew I smelled contraband,” his jaw ticked and his brow lifted as he eyed the three of you, “and you,” he pointed at you, “of all the girls in town, it had to be you?”

You looked at Darla and Mia as they blinked at the cop. Lee Boedecker was known for his cruel-streak and no-nonsense tolerance. You knew him as the pudgy, old man who tried to buy you a drink as you still wore your graduation cap. You remembered that day and the odd episode, how he scowled and stomped away, shaking your father’s hand on the way out of the diner.

“All this shit you’re bringin’ down from the city, huh?” he flicked the joint to the ground and blotted it out with his sole.

“N-no, I--” you looked back and forth between Mia and Darla.

“You two,” he pointed at them, “you go on.”

“What?” Mia quivered, “but--”

“You let me deal with her,” he waved her off as he gripped his gun belt, “just lookin’ out for the mayor’s daughter.”

The other girls peeked at you and slowly backed away. You watched them fearfully and as they disappeared around the front of the building, you turned back to the sheriff. He tutted as he shook his head and came closer.

“Won’t that be a scene? Tellin’ your daddy what I found you doin’,” he snickered.

“I… I wasn’t, I only--”

“I don’t care what you was only doin’,” he snorted, “I don’t… have to tell him but you’re gonna have to convince me not to.”

You blinked at him and frowned. You weren’t sure of his meaning and you surely didn’t want to find out. You backed away and he caught your arm.

“Now where’d you get that stuff?” he looked down at the crushed joint.

“It’s not mine,” you quavered, “I swear--”

“No?” he swung you against the wall and knocked the air out of you, “you sure you don’t know, now?”

You shook your head fearfully. You wouldn’t say it Darla who rolled it and lit it but you weren’t going to sell yourself down the river either. He slammed his hand above your shoulder and rested his other on his pistol as he loomed over you.

“Which one was it then? Pretty little college girl…” he purred, “a good girl, tell me which one of ‘em had it.”

You shook your head and pressed yourself to the wall, “I don’t know. Please, sheriff--”

“Please, sheriff,” he unholstered his gun and raised the muzzle. He steadied it against your chin and pushed your head up, “it was just a drink, sweetheart.”

“Sheriff, I--”

“You think you too good for me ‘cause your daddy,” he dragged the gun down your chest and along your stomach, “‘cause he sendin’ you away to read books?”

“No, no, what are you--”

He shushed you as he pushed the gun lower and hooked it under your skirt. He shoved his hand under your skirt and poked your vee with the metal nosebarrel

“I’d hate to ruin ya like that,” he sneered, “but I s’pose up at that fancy college, you got some good use.”

You shook your head and trembled as tears pricked and your nose tingled. He chuckled and leaned in to kiss your forehead. He wiggled the pistol between your thighs.

“No? You think your little act works on me?”

“I-- sheriff, please, I never--”

“Hmmm,” he hummed and inhaled the scent of your hair, “you ain’t no good girl.”

You sniffed as the tears rolled down your cheeks, your heart beating wildly as you waited for him to pull the trigger. He prodded more firmly and lowered his voice.

“How about I drive you back to your daddy’s and discuss this with him?”

Your eyes rounded as his blue ones caught them with a vicious gleam. You sobbed and shivered.

“If-- If you gotta--”

“Come on,” he pulled his gun away and yanked you off the wall.

He marched you down the alley and pushed you into his cruiser. He slammed the door and dropped into the front seat. He leaned to one side as he holstered his gun and clapped his hand over the wheel. He looked at you in the mirror.

“You sure you don’t wanna tell me the truth?” he asked.

“I did--”

“No,” he interrupted you, “you shut up if you ain’t gonna tell me straight.”

He started the car and rolled down the street. You shrunk into the seat afraid that someone might spot you through the window. He steered through the town and headed up the hill to your daddy’s house. You watched the trees around you as his thick breaths were laced with heated mutters.

He pulled off halfway up and idled between a pair of elms, “you can still keep my mouth shut, sweetheart.” You blinked at the mirror and he turned and stretched his arm over the back of the seat. He grinned at you and licked his lips. “What d’ya think your daddy will do?”

You hung your head. Your daddy would be so mad he’d lock you up for the rest of the summer, or worse, pull out his old switch. Your lip quivered and you sniffed as you wiped your cheeks with your cuffs.

“You want me to tell him?” Lee asked.

You peered up through your lashes at him and shook your head. He nodded and killed the engine. The car jolted as he got out and slammed his door. He opened the back and bent to look in on your with his hand on the roof.

“Right then, on your back,” he ordered.

“What--”

“If you don’t want me to tell him, you gotta keep me quiet, now lay down, sweetheart,” he reached to his belt and unbuckled it with one hand, “it’ll be quick, promise, then you can go back to bein’ a good girl.”

“Sheriff,” you kicked yourself across the seat and lunged for the other door.

He caught your ankle and dragged you back. He flipped you onto your back and crawled over you, his weight suffocating as he posted his knees between your legs.

“That’s the thing, you can keep me quiet or I can make you scream and tell your daddy anyway,” he warned as he fought with your flailing hands, “it all goes the same way, got it?”

You stilled and stared up at him. It was as if he’d slapped you. Your eyes overflowed and he brought his hand up to trace the streaks with his thumb.

“You’re so sweet,” he ran his hand down to your dress and groped your through the fabric, “mmm, so sweet.”

You tensed as he pushed his hand between your bodies and lifted himself as he pressed his fingers to your cunt. He tugged your skirt up impatiently and rubbed along the front of your underwear. You turned your head and swallowed a sob.

“I woulda been nice, taken you out proper,” he pushed his fingers under the cotton and you gasped as he caressed your folds, “you coulda been a sheriff’s wife, you coulda made your daddy proud.”

He poked his fingers inside you so roughly you whimpered. He pulled them in and out even as your body resisted. He sank to his knuckles and squeezed until you cried out.

“Now you can take my bastard home to him,” he snarled and tore his hand out of your knickers.

He unzipped his pants and wriggled as he shimmied them down. Still trapped beneath his weight, you stared at the back of the leather seat as your tears hovered on your lashes. He grunted as he ripped your panties down to your knees. He stretched the cotton between your legs as he bent them and rested on the fabric.

Bent beneath him, you closed your eyes as he felt around your cunt. He pushed his knees against your ass and lined up with your entrance. You clenched as he prodded and struggled to get his tip inside of you. He swore and leaned heavily on the elbow planted beside your head.

“Now, don’t make this harder than--” He bucked into you so hard you hollered. He smothered it with his hand and held himself deep inside of you, “you weren’t lyin’ about the boys, were you?”

You squeezed your eyes tight and he wiggled until you squirmed. He pulled back and rammed back into you roughly, groaning as he did. He waited and did it again, each thrust reverberated up your spine.

“You think your father would still love you if he knew?” he rasped, “huh, what you think everyone will say? That whore went up to the city and got a child on her.”

“P-p-please,” you whispered as you pushed on his chest, “it… hurts.”

“Oh, it gon’ hurt, sweetheart,” he growled, “but it didn’t have to.” He hissed as he kept his hips moving, “you made it this way.”

“I can’t-- don’t-- I can’t have a ba--”

“You gonna have my baby,” he sneered and hooked his arm under you, “you gonna carry me with you the rest of your life,” the car shook with his movement, “it was only a drink, sweetheart… one drink.”

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