#slowest of slow burns

[britishassistant]

Soul Searching (Is Harder If You Have Different Maps)

Leona (dream sharing) - Yuu (first words)

It’s been on your wrist for as long as you can remember.

A short paragraph in neat, flowing handwriting, forming one of the oddest sentences you’ve ever read.

Your half-siblings gave you no end of grief about it once the Words Resolved, at least one of them leaking it whenever you moved up a year in school so everybody always knew.

Your father ordered you to keep it covered at all times, then ignored it and you from then on. Just another way you were a stain on the family name.

One of the good things about leaving was at least it became your own.

You buy a new cover, the nicest you can afford with your meager funds. Not because you’re ashamed of it, but because for the first time in your life you could control who knew about it. It was yours, no one else’s.

Still. You really can’t imagine what sort of first encounter you’ll have with your soulmate that results in what’s on your wrist.

Maybe they have a pet? A dog or a cat?

Conversely, even though your meeting requires you to (you hope not seriously) potentially hurt an animal, you find yourself becoming hyper-aware of them. Always keeping a healthy distance between them and yourself.

It helps when you wake up in a coffin after dreaming about (maybe living through?) your gruesome death via monster to a talking, fire-breathing tanuki trying to steal your clothes.

You don’t think stepping on it would improve your situation any.

You’re distracted, is the thing.

You’ve somehow been transported to another world, forced to live in a should-be-condemned building, made a groundskeeper, watched as Grim the monster-tanuki burnt a statue and broke a chandelier with the help of a cocky feckless asshole and a dumbass wannabe honor student, had your ribs broken by a nightmarish ink-like monster that you still can’t find any information on, defeated that monster by somehow getting Grim, the feckless asshole and dumbass honor student to cooperate with your improvised plan, made a two-in-one student and a prefect, hosted Ace in your ramshackle dorm when he pissed off his dorm leader, had a weird dream about a queen and some cards you barely remember, tried to get Grim to attend classes, somehow got shanghai’d into making a mont blanc to appease the same dorm leader who Ace somehow belatedly realized was his soulmate, and—!

Look, it’s been a long two days, alright?

So maybe, when Grim dashes off the path to go steal some random fruit you’ve never seen before, you’re more concerned with catching him than watching where you’re going.

With your luck, Grim’ll end up rolling around in poison ivy. The magical equivalent of poison ivy. Which he’ll transfer to you first thing, but he won’t be affected by because he’s got fur.

You stumble as something… round and thin disrupts your footing by being inconveniently beneath your sole.

“Ow!”

Maybe it was a hose? A greenhouse this big has got to have some sort of sprinkler system, after all. Hopefully you haven’t bent it or anything.

Also since when was Grim’s voice that deep?

“Oi. You’ve got some nerve, stepping on someone’s tail without saying anything.”

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, come on.

At least he’s good looking, the treacherous part of your brain whispers as a boy so tall and broad he can only really be called a man stands and pins you in place with a glare. With all the ways this could’ve turned out, you really got lucky with this one, didn’t you?

The rest of you mentally screams at it to shut up, because holy shit, this guy has animal ears and a tail and there is no way in hell you could’ve predicted this in a million years.

“Fnah? Are you the custodian here?” Because naturally, Grim would decide now’s the best time to abandon his quest for food. “You look like a rude guy, y’know?”

The guy who said the words on your wrist (your soulmate, your soulmate, he’s your soulmate!) curls his lip. “I may have been in the middle of a shitty nap, but you went and walked on my tail. I can’t just let you get away with that.”

You’re the one who left your tail lying where anyone can step on it…is what you want to say, but for some reason the words won’t come out your mouth.

He tilts his head. “You…aren’t you that herbivore the mirror said can’t use magic? Hmm…”

He seizes your tie and the front of your shirt in a fist, and you discover that being lifted by your clothes? Is something that can and does happen in the reality you now inhabit. You’re hauled up until you’re dangling just below your soulmate’s eye level, getting an unwitting closeup of his collarbone and down his shirt.

You try and will yourself to stop staring.

He leans forwards and his nose twitches as he inhales repeatedly. Is he…is he smelling you?!

“I-I bathe daily!” You splutter out.

You immediately want to find a wall and slam your head into it. The first words you say to your soulmate, what he’ll have been judging your character by right up until this moment, and this is what you come up with? “I bathe daily”? No wonder your soulmate’s wearing gloves.

Your father was right to disown you.

“Ha. I really can’t smell a spark of magic on you.” Your soulmate drawls, one of his ears flickering. “I don’t really feel like taking on an opponent that can’t resist…but it’s not like I, Leona-sama can let you just walk away after stepping on my tail, right?”

You have a sinking feeling in your stomach. “Wh-mmfph?!”

It’s hard to finish your sentence around the hand that this guy has just shoved into your mouth.

“Now,” You can feel his glove-clad fingers poking and prodding at one of your canines with intent. “I was having a shitty dream, and got woken up so rudely that it’s pissed me off. I think a tooth is a fair trade for that, right?”

Oh fuck no.

You think you can hear Grim babbling about running away somewhere around this guy’s ankles, while your legs windmill uselessly in midair.

The hand that’s not trying to fruitlessly pull at his wrist scrabbles for sharpened pencil in your pants pocket. You rip it out and brandish it as menacingly as you can.

“Hoh?” He still looks amused, damn him. “And what are you planning on doing with that, herbivore?”

“Ay’ll ta’e y’r othe’ eye ‘f y’dun ge’ y’r ‘and ou’ a ma mouf!” You threaten with as much bravado as you can muster.

Judging by the way his grin widens, it’s much less effective than you were hoping it would be.

He opens his mouth—

“Leona-san!”

And just like that, it’s like someone’s flicked off a light switch. His eyes go flat, his ears droop, his mouth thins into an annoyed scowl.

He also drops you.

You land hard on your tailbone on the stone path, coughing and gagging from the sudden removal of his entire hand from your mouth.

“Minion!” Grim pounces on your stomach, which does not help with how winded you are. “Are you okay? Did he take all yer teeth?”

You shake your head, trying to wordlessly convey that you’re mostly unharmed.

“Leona-San, there you are.” Another boy with ears and a tail and dyed blond hair comes strolling up the path. “I’ve been sent to get you for your remedi—ah? Don’t tell me you’ve traumatized another firstie again already.”

Again?

“Already?!” Grim squeaks.

The guy who is apparently the other half of your soul turns his head to shoot you a dangerous smirk.

You scoop up Grim and run for your life.

You’re panting by the time you reach the outside of the greenhouse where Ace and Deuce are waiting.

“Ah, Prefect, Grim, we found some…hey, what happened to you?” Deuce asks, taking in the sight of you, bent almost double as you try to get your breath back.

“Th-there was a really rude custodian sleeping in there!” Grim bursts out. “He was super scary!”

“Custodian?” Ace tilts his head. “What are you talking about?”

“I just met my soulmate.” You sing-song quietly.

“Wha-seriously?!” Ace’s face begins quirking in an astonished grin. “Both of us in the same day! Damn, what are those odds?”

“Congratulations, Prefect!” Deuce says, clapping you on the shoulder. “Who is he? What’s he like?”

“He was going to rip my teeth out.” You say brightly, unable to get the sing-song out of your voice.

There’s a moment of uncomfortable silence.

“Hah?” Ace says blankly. “Wait, seriously?! This isn’t some kinda joke?! And I thought what the dorm head did to me was bad.”

“Maybe it’ll get better?” Deuce, the kind, naive sap, suggests.

It does not get better.

Turns out that the weird dreams about the Queen and the cards and the little girl? Get followed up by Dorm Head Rosehearts overblotting and becoming the same kind of monster that broke your ribs.

You leave that encounter with a torn ligament in your ankle, and another dream of that monster murdering you brutally.

(Except this time, Ace, Deuce, and Trey are trying to fight it and dying to it alongside you, and before its teeth close around your head, you glimpse that the beast’s front paws are actually a grasping, disturbing pair of hands…

You wake in a cold sweat, body shaking and fingers numb around charcoal you don’t remember buying as you try to sketch out the monstrosity, as if confining it to paper will lessen its threat.)

Despite your terror, life goes on. You’re lulled into a routine of going to class, corralling Grim, trying not to die when bits of your Dorm collapse suddenly, making repairs, dealing with your ghostly roommates, hanging out with Ace and Deuce, and doing homework when you find the time.

And then your soulmate decides the best way to prepare for a sports tournament is by maiming the competition.

Your bad feeling from the dreams returning, this time with a Lion rather than a Queen, is only intensified when the headmaster threatens you and bribes Grim into investigating the “accidents”.

Even if he says “The Prefect is so diligent at note-taking I’m sure it’ll be a cinch~” isn’t pushing this kind of thing onto you really way too carefree for an adult?!

The only good thing about this investigation is you, Grim, Deuce, and Cater-senpai get a front seat to Ace’s corny flirtations at Riddle-senpai, and Riddle-senpai’s flustered reactions to him. It’s nice to see they’re getting along well.

It becomes readily apparent from your interviews that the only dorm to be entirely unaffected is Savannaclaw. Even if there are strong players from other dorms who haven’t been injured, they’re usually the type whose…personality quirks have provided them with a defense against the fates that befell their weaker dorm-mates.

Savannaclaw is the only one with all players in fighting form. That, combined with Jack Howl’s certainty that he won’t have an accident when rebuffing Grim’s offer of protection…

Of course, this is when three upperclassmen decide that it’s time to circle you, Ace, Deuce and Cater. Their threats are almost laughably cliche, but when they’ve got the muscle to back it up…

“What’s all this yapping for? Annoying.”

All the muscles in your back lock up.

“Dorm Head Kingscholar!” One of the upperclassmen barks as the jerk who might match your soul strides towards your group followed by the dyed blond guy who took Grim’s sandwich.

Well, at least that gives you a complete name to put to the face. Not that you wanted one.

He looks…? He’s slouching like he hasn’t a care in the world, like he’s the one with all the power here but it’s. Off, somehow. Not quite the casual ease he had when messing with you in the Botanical Gardens, no matter how hard he’s trying to seem otherwise.

“Aren’t you the herbivore who stepped on my tail?” Dorm Head Leona Kingscholar asks rhetorically, prompting his riled up dorm mates to turn towards you, teeth bared.

Your jaw clenches. “And you’re the creep with the tooth fetish. How’ve your naps been lately? I hope karma isn’t making your nightmares too unbearable.”

That gets his eyes narrowing at you, a growl rumbling from his chest and dumb tail swishing as his groupies’ snarls ratchet up a notch.

You can’t say you aren’t grateful for the way Ace and Deuce step in front of you, Grim hissing from the safety of your shoulders, like they could actually do anything if your soulmate decided to assault you again.

The impromptu game of Magift that he challenges the investigation team to certainly feels like one, a beat down dressed up in the guise of a “friendly match” with how often your boys are getting body checked out of the way and the sparks of white hot magic coming from the disk that even have you ducking for cover. There’s no way that this can be safe. It’s as if they’re hoping to take all of you out of commission if they injure you badly enough here.

It takes Jack Howl intervening for you all to have the pretext to escape without any major injuries. You should be following Cater’s speedy retreat, it would be the smart move…

But something stops you in your tracks, leaves you gnawing at your thumbnail as you watch the Dorm Head of Savannaclaw.

All this—the dreams, the plotting for control over something that’s usually left to chance, the weary dorm head you suspect is behind it all, it’s pricking at your brain, drawing comparisons between what happened a few weeks ago with Riddle-senpai. Which is ridiculous, Crowley told you that Overblot is rare and that Riddle’s case was the first time there’s been a major outbreak in decades, but—

Well. You didn’t survive the last 15 years by having the luxury to write connections like this off as mere coincidence.

Which leads to your next quandary: do you attempt to say something? Leona Kingscholar may be a bastard, but you are still his soulmate, even if he doesn’t act like it. The idea of him ending up as one of those monsters that Riddle-senpai became…it makes your fingers go cold and bile rise in your throat. But how—?

He catches your eye.

“See something you like, herbivore?”

You can feel your expression fall flat. “Hardly. A fool on an errand is never an impressive sight. Except, perhaps, for seeing how deep he can dig himself.”

“Hn. I feel like I could say the same whenever I see you.” Kingscholar-senpai retorts, the same damn amusement on his face again as he saunters over to you. Like he’s enjoying himself.

You have to take a breath to keep from gritting your teeth, letting him see how much he’s riling you up, even as he starts reaching towards your face. “Listen. If I could offer some advice? I would tread carefully, if I were you. The path you’re going down with all this, this, you may not like where you end up. If you do, more power to you, but…I wouldn’t want to see you biting off more than you can chew.”

“Even if I knew what you were talking about herbivore,” His grin curls wider when he pinches you chin between his fingers. “Which I don’t, what makes you think that someone like you has any right to tell me what to do? Even among lions there are limits to arrogance, you know.”

You can feel blood rush to your cheeks are indignation flares hot in your gut. Why this little—!

You pull your face out of his hand and turn sharply on your heel, striding off after your friends as his laughter echoes in your ears.

Fine. Fine! It seems that you’re going to have to take Ace’s approach to the problem. Try and put a stop to whatever mayhem Leona Kingscholar is causing before he can reach overblot status. Your soulmate, your responsibility.

You’re just hoping you’ll be slightly more successful this time than you all were with Riddle.

So you end up in the infirmary again.

Jumping off of a set of collapsing bleachers while your soulmate’s Unique Magic eats a hole into your side during his overblot doesn’t make you a better Magift player, surprisingly.

Though you were mostly sitting on the sidelines and shouting directions to Grim, Ace and Deuce until the disk came flying at the back of your head.

At least you’re not alone here though.

In the bed next to yours is Kingscholar-senpai, with Buchie-senpai in the one on his other side.

Your thoughts are still fixed on what Kingscholar-senpai was saying before his overblot, his anger at his powerlessness and his despair at being unable to change anything due to something as immutable as birth.

You’re wondering whether it would be good to talk to him about it once everyone else has left, to tell him a bit about yourself and where you come from, just enough to let him know you understand, even if you don’t condone sabotaging sports tournaments or overblots. Except no, Buchie-senpai will still be here too, the last thing he wants to be subject to is the pair of soulmates who are responsible for his injuries getting mushy when he can’t escape. Maybe this kind of conversation is a bit too heavy to have while you’re both still trying to heal, so perhaps it would be better to ask him to meet you alone once you’re both out of the infirmary?

And then a tiny, excitable angel of a child scurries into the room, looking for Leona-oji-tan, and your soulmate’s hands come up to stabilize the boy when he clambers onto his stomach.

His gloves are off.

There are a limited number of areas where your soulmate’s words can appear, and all of them are localized to the arms, hands, and neck. The lowest anyone has ever had words appear outside of these areas was over the breastbone, and the studies you’ve read showed that this was purely because the poor girl’s soulmate was giving an extremely long and impassioned speech on women’s right to suffrage that took up her neck and both of her arms besides.

Leo—Kingscholar’s overblot form didn’t exactly leave much to the imagination, and it makes sense, given that he hadn’t shown any reaction to your first words to him, but with the inky blot over his hands, you had thought, you had hoped—!

Your words aren’t there. At all.

It’s unrequited.

Of course it is. Of course.

It’s you, after all.

You spend a few days moping once you get out of the infirmary.

It’s not helped by the fact that the dream of the monster that kills you is back with a vengeance, tearing apart Riddle, Cater, and Buchie-senpai before shaking out its leonine fur as it prepares to pounce—!

(You hate how the drawing is getting more detailed.)

And that’s not even mentioning the other dream where you heard knocking from the inside of your mirror…

Between the stresses of the dreams, exhaustion from the crutches you need while the injury on your thigh and hip heals, and the new revelation about your soul’s other half…well, is it any surprise you don’t feel as energetic as before? You’re dealing with enough as it is. Between school and navigating your broken down excuse of a dorm, it’s a wonder you can get out of bed in the morning, much less socialize.

Kingscholar-san sends Jack bearing a brand new uniform to Ramshackle, only one size too big. It takes everything you have to smile and thank him without the annoying waver your voice has taken on lately.

It only ends when you look up one morning to see Grim nudge his tuna can back towards you, a worried frown on his furry little face.

“I dun’ need it.” He insists. “You eat, minion. You need ta build up yer strength and fill yer tummy, you’ve been all droopy and sad and not eatin’! What kinda great magician would I be if I couldn’t look after one a’ my minions? So be grateful, fgnah!”

You try and tell him that you’re fine, you’ve got your rice and egg, but he refuses to budge until you’ve choked down a little under half of the can.

You’re not sure whether it was the shock of greedy, selfish Grim insisting you take his food or how unpleasant eating the oily, unseasoned cat-food-level tuna was, but after you clean your teeth you give yourself a long, hard look in the mirror.

You…well, let’s be honest.

You look like shit. Tired and in pain, yes, but more than that you look like you did when you were floundering on your own for the first time at 14. Alone and directionless and reeling from loss.

You look like you’ve given up.

That more than anything else, makes you scoff in disgust. Really? Of all the things you’ve lived through, all the letdowns you’ve experienced, this is what beats you? A guy? One you don’t even know very well, and is under no obligations towards you besides? Are you seriously making yourself miserable over the hope of a possibility that’s been crushed?

As if.

You didn’t let your middle school graduation break you. You didn’t let your disownment break you. You are not going to lose yourself over an unrequited soulmate.

You’re trying to get back to your world, after all. And sure, you may be leaving a piece of your soul here, and it will hurt, but you’ll live. You’ll move on. You’ll survive.

You slap your cheeks twice.

At lunch, you announce, “I’m going to need some help carrying paint and wood back to my dorm after classes today.”

Ace and Deuce stare at you as you continue, “It’s seriously a pain to try and guess where I can put my crutches that won’t send them through the floors again. Even the ghosts are getting tired of all the holes. Plus, it’s just, really filthy, you know? If it’s going to take the headmaster this long to send me back, I’d rather live somewhere that isn’t going to fall down on me and Grim in our sleep or give us tetanus.”

You feel your smile begin to falter slightly as the silence continues.

“Freaking finally, fgnah!” Grim cheers through a mouthful of your curry. “It’s about time Ramshackle got an upgrade to reflect the majesty of the Great Genius Grim!”

“O-of course, Prefect!” Deuce, angel that he is, puffs out his chest. “I’d be glad to help out!”

“I’m not carrying jack shit.” Ace says, little shit that he is. “But try asking Jack or Riddle or Trey-senpai with that face—it’s so pathetic they’ll probably do anything you ask.”

You kick him in the shins, out of principle.

And then it turns out that Ace, Deuce, and Grim have all gone and sold their souls to the dorm head of Octavinelle in exchange for academic success.

Because, lest you forget, your closest friends and associates are absolute morons.

At least they had the decency to wait until you’d been off the crutches for two weeks and finals were done before springing this onto you.

(You should have known when you woke on the last day of exams to dreams of mermaids and shipwrecks, but you were so busy trying to track down who this figure could possibly be, trying to uncover something, anything more about overblot in the texts that are overdue for the library to update your wall that—!

But that’s hardly an excuse. You should have known.)

Crowley once again commands you to investigate the Octavinelle Dorm Head, with the understanding that your meager allowance for food will be jeopardized if not.

Azul Ashengrotto, as you and Jack discover while following him around, is for all appearances a model student, if a bit of a kiss-up. He is careful to never do anything untoward where the public can see.

Azul Ashengrotto is a boy with what romantics call “a threefold soul”. The one in his body is partnered with the two inside the twins, who only leave his side to slink up to you with promises of deals that will solve all of your problems.

Azul Ashengrotto will only consent to freeing all the students if you sign a contract with him. Three days to steal a photograph from a museum in the Coral Sea, or you join Grim, Ace and Deuce in servitude.

It’s not the first time you’ve signed a contract with every fiber of your being screaming “NO”, but hopefully this will be the last.

And, just to add insult to injury, what Azul Ashengrotto wants as collateral more than anything else? Is your dorm that you and your friends spent the past months making downright hospitable as a way to distract from your soulmate issues.

You think you’re meant to be grateful that those twins let you grab what few changes of clothes you could before throwing you and Grim out.

You are grateful to Jack for offering you a room in Savannaclaw so you don’t need to squeeze into a bed with Ace and Deuce in a four student room, even if that means you’ll definitely come into contact with the person you’ve been avoiding since his overblot.

This gratitude lasts for about as long as it takes Kingscholar-san to open his mouth.

“They can’t stay here.” He grumbles, looking almost as weary as before his overblot. “The empty rooms have been dumping grounds for stuff from the other students—even if they’re used to living in that decrepit wreck, trying to sleep in one of those rooms would be impossible.”

“Hey! Don’t insult our dorm!” Grim protests, hackles raised. “It’s really, really nice now, fgnah!”

“I don’t care.” Kingscholar-san replies.

“Senpai.” Jack groans.

“Ah, I’ve got it.” Buchie-senpai says with a grin you’re really learning to dislike. “We’ll put them in Leona’s room.”

“Do you want me to sew your mouth shut?!” Kingscholar-san growls as you loudly proclaim, “HELL NO.”

“Eh? But Prefect, Leona’s digs would be waaay comfier than any old dusty room.” Buchie-senpai wheedles. “Plus Leona-san is used to having servants sleep in his room as a prince, so this’ll be just like home, right? Plus this way the Prefect and Grim can earn their keep by helping look after him. It’s a win-win!”

There’s a weird interest in Kingscholar-san’s eyes that sends a shiver down your spine (no, stop, stop that, it’s unrequited, he’s not, he doesn’t), before his growl increases in volume. “Ruggie, you—!”

“Right, thanks for the offer Jack but we’re just going to share with Ace or Deuce in Heartslaybul, so…” Back up slowly, very slowly, eyes on them, don’t run.

“Oi.”

You don’t entirely mean to freeze in place at the sound, but your pesky survival instincts have other plans.

Kingscholar-san attempts to cover his scowl with a nonchalant expression. “Well, if you’re truly intent on running away with your tails between your legs, I can’t stop you. After all, only the strong are welcome in Savannaclaw, even if it’s only for three days. But if you’re really sure…oi, you lot! Get out here!”

From the depths of the dorm, three upperclassmen come trooping out. The same three, you note to your displeasure, who tried to waylay the Investigation Team last time.

“Ah! It’s the prey that got away last time! It came back all on its own!” The biggest one crows.

“If you want to stay, you’ll need to prove yourself. Otherwise these three will have the pleasure of escorting you to Heartslaybul.” Kingscholar’s smug look really shouldn’t set your blood ablaze by now. “After all, such delicate, weak herbivores who got taken advantage of need to be looked after so they don’t get gobbled up late at night, right?”

“Who’re you callin’ weak?!” Grim hisses, back arched.

“Aw, does the kitty cat have claws?” The one with floppy ears simpers. “Better have me carry ‘im for you, little prince, otherwise you’ll get aaaall scratched up!”

The three of them cackle like this is the funniest thing they’ve heard all day.

You feel your lip curl.

Fine. Fine! These brats want a piece of you so bad? You’ll show them precisely why the headmaster appointed you “Beast Tamer”.

Grim gave up his fire magic to Azul, so the only real magical support you’ll have against these guys is Jack. But from what you remember from Magift, these upperclassmen are only really good at coordinating when Kingscholar-san is keeping them in line. When they’re on their own…

“Jack, think you can distract the big one until I’m ready?” You ask. “Grim, give the one with the smallest ears the runaround. Pretend he’s Ace and you stole his lunch again.”

“Can do, Prefect.” Jack growls, while the upperclassman with small ears claps a hand over them and yells, “SHUT UP!! THEY AIN'T SMALL, YA BASTARD!!”

“Nah, they’re tiny!!” Grim cackles, darting away like a tiny streak of grey wind, prompting the guy you’ve given a complex to roar and give chase. The biggest one is having similar problems hitting the equally quick Jack, which leaves you in careful position to deal with…

“I’ll make you eat those words!!” The third upperclassman vows as he aims for you with his magic pen.

The last one has the floppy ears of a prey animal rather than a predator. At a guess you’d say some kind of impala or oxen, something with horns. Which means that unlike the other two, who probably rely on their ancestor’s habits of intimidation and claws to inform how they fight, this one is much more used to—

“HIIIYAAAH—!” Charging at threats headfirst.

You skip to the side to avoid the spell he slings at you and hook out your foot to snag one of his.

“Hah!” The punk leaps over your leg. “You gotta try haaaraaaauuowhOAAAAAGH!!”

There’s a large splash as he drops into the pool of water behind you.

You make a show of peering down. “Oh my. Is that much blood normal?”

“GOTAMA!!” The biggest upperclassman shoves past Jack with ease while the one with small ears gives up on chasing Grim, the pair of them rushing to the water’s edge in an attempt to see if their buddy is alright. It’s almost sweet.

Though you’d think with their more sensitive senses, these beastmen would recognize a lie when they hear one.

You catch Grim’s eye and draw an english “m” with your finger. He beams.

All it takes from him is a running leap at the nearest punk to sending him sprawling into the pool on top of his buddy with a scream. Grim spring-boards off of the last one to complete the set and lands safely in your outstretched arms.

You cuddle him to you as he cheers. “Yeah!! Take that, fgnah!”

Jack huffs, looking disapproving even as his tail swishes from side to side. “That was sneaky, Prefect.”

You give him a cheeky “v” with your fingers and a grin, “Well, underhanded tactics are still strength, after all. Right, Kingscholar-san?”

“Don’t go putting words in my mouth, herbivore.” He says that, but his eyes are raking over you, as if seeing you in a new light. As if you’ve impressed him, somehow.

Bad for your heart, that.

It’s possible you may have gotten caught up in their pace and forgotten what this grudge match was for.

“You’re gonna fry in that.” Comes the unwelcome commentary from Kingscholar-san’s bed. “It gets colder at night, but not that cold.”

You clutch at your discount Night Raven College hoodie. Sure it’s big and bulky, but. “Then I’ll deal with it. It’s comfy.”

He rolls over, away from the futon where you and Grim are bunking. You think you hear a mutter of “annoying”.

Grim sticks out his tongue. You do too.

“I heard that.”

You’d almost hoped that being away from Ramshackle would mean the dreams don’t come again.

And for one night, you’re proven right.

It’s the second night, after you’ve gone to bed with advice churning in your brain about destroying the contracts rather than attempting to complete the task Azul had set you, that’s the when they come for you.

You blink awake in the quiet dark of the room, a thin layer of sweat clinging to you.

“Another deal…?” You mutter sleepily to yourself, scrunching your eyes shut. “Guess even mermaids don’t know any better than dealing with octopi…”

There’s a sudden rustle of fabric.

You open your eyes to find Kingscholar-san about half an inch away from your face.

“Are you dreaming about weird twisted versions of the Great Seven?” He demands.

Your mouth goes dry.

“TOO CLOSE!”

He lets you shove his face away until you can sit up before grabbing your wrist and yanking it off.

“Answer the question.” He snarls, grip tightening until the leather of your cover begins to creak under your hoodie.

“I—what?!” You try and parse his nonsensical demands. “No, I just—that was one of the weird dreams I’ve been getting. There was a small fish mermaid, and eels, and this octopus lady who had a contract she was making the little mermaid sign to…I don’t know, go on land, I think? But it’s only recently it’s been mermaids, before that it was lions and then it was queens and cards, and…what’s that look?”

He’s staring intently at you, ears forward and pupils so much larger than they are in the day.

“The Witch of the Sea.” He says, so low that you almost have to strain your ears to hear him. “That’s who the mermaid was making a deal with. The Witch of the Sea, whose benevolence is the basis for Octavinelle House.”

You feel yourself waking up so quickly it’s like caffeine has been injected straight into your veins.

“Then the, the previous two sets of dreams?” You ask, hardly daring to believe your luck.

“The Queen of Hearts, of Heartslaybul.” His eyes dart away from you. “And…the King of the Beasts. For Savannaclaw.”

You gape at him.

You need your notebook, you need to write this all down, this, this is—!

“How’d you not even know who they were?” There’s stifled amusement in Kingscholar-san’s voice as you tear through your clothes from yesterday at the end of your futon, trying to find it.

“I only started hearing about them when I arrived here this year, forgive me if I can’t identify them on sight yet.” You retort, finally finding the little spiral notebook in the pocket of your blazer.

Something long and thin tickles beneath your chin, something fluffy at the end flicking your cheek.

You rear away from it, falling backwards.

You hit something warm and solid and upright, rather than the quickly cooling sheets of your futon. Your position puts you in the ideal position to look up and see Kingscholar-san smirking down at you as you’re caged between his chest and knees.

Oh Seven help you, this is too dangerous.

“I won’t say this isn’t a surprise.” He starts, as the fluffy thing comes back to flick your chin again. His tail. “But it’s not. Hm. There are worse people in this school who could be my soulmate than you, I guess.”

Ice slides down your spine.

“Who,” You rasp as you push yourself up and away. “Who the hell told you?!”

Grim hasn’t been away from you long enough to say anything to Kingscholar, either with you or serving in the Monstro Lounge. Ace may have teased you about it before the Magift Tournament, but after, he clammed up and would always change the subject when someone tried to ask you about it. Deuce is the same, though that doesn’t mean he didn’t blurt something out on accident. Maybe Jack? But no, Jack didn’t know, and even if he did he’s the kind of guy whose moral compass would never—

“What?” Kingscholar-san’s face is a mask of confusion. “You just—”

“And if this is some,” You can feel your face twist as you spit it out, heart pounding double time with hurt. “Pity thing, trying to make the poor, arrogant Prefect feel better because it’s unrequited, then I’d like you to stop, right now. I don’t need to be pandered to, not about something like this.”

His eyebrows lower until he’s giving you a steely glare, and his voice has gone cold. “The hell does that mean?”

“Don’t play dumb.” You snap, one hand coming to rub the wrist where your cover lies. “I have your Words, but you don’t have mine anywhere on you. Your dorm uniform is sleeveless, and I’ve seen you without gloves.”

Rather than looking away from you, shame-faced, or admitting to you straight that it was all one big game, to see how he can toy with the person who’s devoted to him but not the other way around, Kingscholar-san says something that leaves you aghast.

“Words? What kind of bullshit are you spouting now?”

You yank up your hoodie sleeve and attack the fastenings on your cover with a ferocity you didn’t know you had, letting it land on a sleeping Grim with a thwap as you shove the underside of your wrist into his face.

He blinks, pushing it back, eyes flicking back and forth as he reads your Words. “What? When did you get this…?”

“I’ve had this since I was four years old!” You cry. “The first Words my soulmate will ever say to me, the way I’ll know who he is, and trust me, if I could have gotten them to Resolve as something else, I would.”

His mouth works soundlessly for a moment, before he says, “That’s not. Soulmates don’t have that.”

You scoff, incredulous. Of all the lame excuses…! “Yes. They do.”

“No, they don’t.” He insists, glaring. “Not in this world.”

“Then why,” You are half a second from either tearing your hair out or punching him in the face and only the gods and the Seven know which. “Does everyone here wear long sleeves or gloves?!”

That actually stops him up short for a second, before he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“They are part of the uniform.” He stresses, speaking slowly and loudly like he thinks you’re stupid. “But let me guess, in your world, everyone wears them to cover up that.”

“What other reason is there?!” You fling your arms out to the side. “And don’t you dare try to tell me that soulmates don’t exist in this world or whatever, I’ve been hanging around Ace and Riddle for long enough, I know this world has them!”

“Yeah,” He’s scowling at you, and the fact that he still looks hot like this is pissing you off even more. “But here, soulmates find each other by sharing dreams. Like the ones I’ve had to put up with ever since the start of the school year.”

You freeze mid-retort.

So many things start clicking into place. How Ace wasn’t sure Riddle was his soulmate until the morning after their confrontation over the tart. Why Deuce has so many questions about the meaning of gold in dreams when you’re all meant to be studying in private. The dumb jokes Ace makes about Riddle “keeping him up at night” that have the dorm head turning red and beheading him.

“But why didn’t anyone tell me?” Escapes you in a plaintive murmur.

“I dunno. Why didn’t you tell me that you knew what we were from the moment we met?” Kingscholar-san snipes back.

You scoff, “Oh right, when was I meant to tell you again? When you had your hand in my mouth? Oh! Or maybe it was while telling me that I had arrogance that surpassed even a lion’s when I was worrying about you?”

He face twists into a snarl. “After the overblot then! We were in the infirmary for three days together!”

“And I thought I’d just discovered that my soul bond was unrequited!” You insist, feeling your teeth grit. “I couldn’t put that on you! Not then and certainly not now!”

“And why not?!”

“Because, of all the people in this stupid, insane, dysfunctional, twisted world, you’re the one who shouldn’t have to settle for second-best!” You only realize you’re yelling after the words leave your mouth.

Kingscholar-senpai is staring at you, ears almost flat against his head.

Grim is also staring at you, from where he’s hiding under the covers.

“It’s just…You deserve first prize when it comes to stuff like this.” You finish lamely. “You shouldn’t have to settle for me if you don’t need to.”

Your cheeks are burning, your head is spinning. Why, oh why did you say something so, so melodramatic and stupid?!

“Uh…” There’s a haphazard knock on the doorframe. Buchie-senpai looks incredibly awkward as he continues. “Sorry to interrupt, but, uh. Morning practice?”

“Morning practice! Right!” You have never been happier for an escape. “I-uh-Grim and I need to get ready!”

You scoop Grim up, ignoring his cry of, “But I’m cozy!”

“Herbivore, wait—!”

You aren’t afraid to say you run as fast as your legs can physically take you.

“Please tell me you and Riddle have each others’ Words.” You beg Ace when you meet up with him, Deuce and Jack.

Ace has the audacity to blink at you, bewildered. “Wh-words? Prefect, what the hell are you talking about?”

You take a moment to hide your face in your hands and scream.

That day’s attempts to discover a way to destroy the contract are almost a complete failure.

It’s only thanks to running into Tsunotaro the gargoyle enthusiast outside of Ramshackle that you can add the “almost”.

His words about statuary and forms not matching up to function are bouncing around your head even as you make your slow way back to Savannaclaw. It feels like it should be significant in some way, but how—

“Where the hell have you been?”

Geh.

You’d forgot that coming back here means dealing with him.

“I went to Ramshackle out of habit.” You say breezily, proud of yourself for how you can project nonchalance into your tone. “Ended up talking to a friend who gave me some advice about the situation.”

Kingscholar-san stares at you for a moment, before turning over with a scoff. Dismissing your existence.

Maybe it’s like Vanrouge-senpai said. Leona Kingscholar isn’t the type to expend the energy fighting for what he sees as lost causes.

You huff at the painful twinge in your chest from that thought. You’re over him, you’re over him, you didn’t pour all the blood and sweat into repairing Ramshackle to not be over him by now.

Instead you begin to clean under Buchie-senpai’s instructions, picking up the mess strewing the room—and keeping Grim from pocketing your apparently-not-so-unrequited-soulmate’s valuables along the way.

Which leads to an argument where Buchie-senpai nags Kingscholar-san to hide his valuable before they get stolen, only for your soulmate to retort that he’d like to meet the person who had the guts to steal from him, which makes sense because if he’s truly that confident in his ability to stop a thief, why would—!

“THAT’S IT!”

It finally clicks.

“…vore? Herbivore. Yuu.”

“Hm?” You shake a little, coming back to yourself from where your mind is racing. “Sorry, what is it?”

“You just shouted really loudly, fgnah!” Grim protests. “Made all my fur stand up…”

“Grim.” You kneel down, putting your hands on his little shoulders. “If the contracts really are invincible and untouchable, why does Azul need a safe?”

Grim stares at you, little eyebrows furrowed. “…Because he needs them protected?”

Behind you, Kingscholar-senpai begins to laugh. “Now I see. You’ve thought of something pretty interesting, haven’t you?”

“Eh, so that’s how it is…” Buchie-senpai rubs his chin. “But still, you’re forgetting a pretty big obstacle if you wanna exploit this.”

“Those eel bastards!” Grim spits, hackles raising again. “They chased us around so much today, and made me work so hard in the Lounge…if I had my fire magic, I’d make sushi outta them, y’know!”

“No, sushi isn’t cooked.” Buchie-senpai interjects.

“If only the Leech twins weren’t there…” The gears in your head are turning, a plan forming before your very eyes.

“I’m going to stop you right there.”

You look up to see Kingscholar-senpai frowning. “I’ve got a general idea of what you’re thinking, but let me say right now that I absolutely will not help. I’m not getting involved with troublesome things, and the only thing more troublesome that you is that octopunk. Count me out.”

You can’t deny the hurt that twinges in your chest as he lies back down and turns away from you, even as Grim puffs up at your feet, looking a second away from hissing.

You catch Buchie-senpai facepalming out of the corner of your eye.

That, of all things, is what inspires you to stand and march around the bed until you’re in front of Kingscholar’s face.

“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.” You declare, folding your arms across your chest.

“Hah?” At least that gets him sitting up.

You tick it off on your fingers. “The easy way is you decide to be nice to your poor, unfortunate soulmate and agree to help us out with my plan. I might even give you a reward for it.”

He shoots you a disinterested look. “And the hard way?”

You smirk at him.

You wish what few hours of sleep you do get aren’t plagued by the dreams.

But no. Instead you’re treated to a montage of the Witch of the Seas actively sabotaging the mermaid until she has the girl’s kingly father in a position to trade everything for his daughter.

“So she was after everything from the start…” You mutter as you feel yourself wake up more.

“Hn.” Comes the grunt from the bed above you. “…How can you look so well-rested after what you did last night. ‘S insulting.”

You smile innocently. “You were the one who wanted it the hard way, senpai.”

There’s a series of noises above you that have you sitting up, frowning in concern. You can’t have him choke to death yet, you’ve got a plan to implement!

Although that reminds you, as you take a seat on the edge of the bed and he watches you warily, that there’s something you need to get through to him before you part ways.

“Whatever you do today,” You warn. “Do not agitate Ashengrotto-senpai. No boasting, no bragging, no giving false hope, nothing that could drag his mental state down. Just destroy the contracts quietly and leave. We do not need another overblot on our hands.”

Kingscholar-senpai groans. “Quit nagging herbivore. I know what I’m doing.”

Which is funny really, because this?

This situation right here, where Ashengrotto-senpai is in the middle of overblotting, screaming about how he’s not going back to being a “lame ink-squirting crybaby”?

This does not look like Leona knows what he’s doing.

You attempt to communicate this to him through gaze alone before beginning to rally everyone plus Jade and Floyd to take Azul down.

At least this overblot is a bit better than Kingscholar-senpai’s in that it seems to be fuel more by lashing out at the nearest targets rather than coldly calculating which targets are the best to attack in its quest to murder everyone.

Unfortunately, as you dart forward to drag Floyd-senpai back when he won’t get out of the line of fire himself, that includes you as well.

In a heartbeat, one of the phantom’s tentacles curls around your arm and shoulder.

It yanks.

You don’t have the breath in your lungs to scream.

It begins dragging you towards where Ashengrotto-senpai is waiting, trident at the ready—!

“King’s Roar!”

Sand, floating away in the water around you, as the phantom thrashes in agony, the disintegrating tentacle threatening the rest of the body before Ashengrotto-senpai lops it off.

An arm snags you about the waist, pulling you tight to Kingscholar-senpai’s side even as it’s careful not to jostle where your shoulder’s been dislocated.

He doesn’t let you go until the fight’s over.

You go to bed in your Ramshackle Dorm that night, uneasy.

Sure, you resolved the issue with Ashengrotto-senpai and now know the truth about this world’s soulmates, much to Ace and Floyd-senpai’s teasing, but Kingscholar-senpai sloped off without a word once he’d taken you to the infirmary again. You still don’t know where you stand with him, if there’s anything you could still make of this or if that ship has sailed, if he has any idea why these dreams are coming to you or even what they are. You just! You don’t know. You don’t know if he knows either.

The dreams are waiting for you the moment you close your eyes.

The first one isn’t so bad, if a little unsettling. Your mirror glowing and an odd voice resounding from its depths doesn’t even ping your weirdness sensor too much anymore, sadly.

But then you shift, dropping deeper into sleep.

And come face to face with the monster again.

It’s head is maned with large, grasping tentacles, and Floyd-senpai lies several paces behind it, already torn in two, mismatched eyes staring at you accusingly.

Jack and Leona are the only two between you and it, and you try to remember how it’s gone other nights, how you can possibly beat it or hold it off long enough to make an opening for all of you to escape.

A sweep of a tentacle and Jack meets the same fate as Floyd-senpai. Torn to bits as if he’s a discarded toy.

Leona shoves you behind him, away from him his mouth forming the word “RUN!”

You scream as the teeth close around his chest, shaking him like a rag doll before tossing him away.

You stumble to his corpse, begging him to get up, look at you, anything, Leona, don’t leave you, not like this, please—!

You can’t even bring yourself to run even as the grasping hands close around you.

You wake.

You’re coated in sweat. Your dislocated shoulder aches.

You ignore it all as you lurch from the bed, non dominant hand grabbing the charcoal as you tug out the paper from under the bed with a foot.

You have to—you can’t let—if you can just—!

A sob is trapped in your throat.

You sit up the rest of the night, staring at the monstrosity forming before your eyes.

Even when the light under the curtains turns from black to dark blue, you do not. Take your gaze. Off of it.

It doesn’t really surprise you when you hear a thunderous pounding on the door downstairs.

Startle you? Yes.

But you can guess who it is with almost comical ease.

You shoot a wary glance at the drawing, but. You already took your eyes off it. If it was going to do anything, it would’ve done so by now.

The pounding starts up again.

You groan as you get to your feet, wanting to itch at your shoulder under the sling as you troop down the cold stairs. “M coming, ‘m coming.”

You yank open the door to see Kingscholar-senpai standing there.

He doesn’t look like he’s slept either.

“It is,” You inform him gravely. “Not even five in the morning. Why are you here.”

He snorts as he steps past you into the building. “Don’t ask questions we both know the answer to.”

You sigh as you shut and lock the door behind him.

“Huh.” He says as he heads up the stairs. “It’s less…run-down than I was expecting.”

“Thanks.” You retort, your verbal filter not quite as awake as you are. “Fixing it up was my project to get over an unrequited soulmate.”

He gives you an unamused stare.

“…Sorry.” You rub the back of your head. “I promise I’m not actually trying to start a fight every time we talk. It’s just…”

“Hn.” He grins at you for some reason. “Ruggie says I have that effect on people. That it’s my ‘winning personality.’”

After a moment, you smile back. “Well, I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

He looks around your room with interest.

Right up until he notices your wall by the door. “King’s balls!”

“Shh!” You hush. “Grim’s still sleeping!”

You both pause for a moment, listening hard. Grim smacks his lips in his sleep and rolls over onto his tummy, his paws coming up to cover his ears.

“Honestly,” Kingscholar-senpai huffs. “Warn me before you show me all. All this.”

You look at your wall, the names of your friends and their connections to recent overblots, the dreams, and any literature which could contribute to your understanding of these events all neatly connected with pushpins and red thread.

“It’s not that bad.” You say, limply.

He raises an eyebrow in your direction. “Sure. Why’d you have all this anyway? Seems…excessive.”

You scrub a fist over your eyes, exhaustion setting in. “I just…these dreams. They feel way too real to be just dreams, right? And you said that they’re of twisted versions of the myths of the Great Seven, which somehow connect to the dorm that has something going on. Usually by reflecting the actions of the one about to overblot. So if I can understand them, maybe, maybe get ahead of them somehow…”

You scratch at your sling. Kingscholar-senpai catches your hand, and you smile weakly at him. “These kinds of dreams didn’t start until after the first overblot. The monster in the Dwarf Mines that was so far gone that it didn’t even have a person attached anymore. And then there’s…you know.”

You gesture to where the drawing sits on the floor.

Kingscholar-senpai actually lets out a small snarl at the sight of it.

“If it were just a stress dream, something my subconscious is coming up with to process all this, this stuff I’m going through, that’d be ine.” You ramble, feeling slightly feverish. “But that dream only ever comes the night after an overblot, not, not more frequently like a normal stress dream. I’m scared that it’s somehow trying to tell me that this…thing is coming. And, and I’m getting more and more injured with every overblot, so unless I can find a way to counteract them, stop them, I’m not sure I can save—I’ll—!”

To your horror, there are hot tears sliding down your cheeks. You try to mop them up on your hoodie, sniffing hard. “…Sorry.”

“Right.”

You look up to see him standing there, with his arms crossed over his chest. “Where do we start?”

You blink.

“Huh…?”

Leona-senpai gives you an unimpressed look. “Don’t be stupid. Admittedly, if you tried to tell me about this without the dreams, I’d’ve told the crow to get you a therapist. Maybe stop pushing all his duties onto a first year, let alone the one who doesn’t have magic, before you have a mental breakdown.”

“Gee, thanks.” You say, voice flat, but a smile is trying to quirk the corners of your mouth.

“But we do share the dreams.” He scruffs a hand through his bangs, gaze flickering over your wall before landing on you. “And as much as I’d love to wash my hands of this and say it’s someone else’s problem, this stuff is targeting my soulmate. And how could I say I’m the dorm head of Savannaclaw if I just stood aside and let my soulmate get preyed on without helping you fight back?”

Leona-senpai almost seems shy as he suddenly avoids your gaze. “The King of the Beasts wouldn’t. He defended his lioness and cubs to the last. It’s only natural I’d do the same for you.”

You can’t quite help the watery laugh that escapes you at that.

“Oi.”

At the sight of his ears going flat, you raise your hands. “Sorry! Sorry, I’m not, not mocking you or anything, it’s just. I don’t think I knew how much I needed to hear someone say that. To hear you say that.”

Pride is still an annoyingly good look on him. You find you like it more when it’s paired with the soft smile he’s favoring you with now.

“As for where to start…” You gnaw at your thumbnail. “Ah, right. We’ve talked about the dreams about the Great Seven, and of the, that, but what about the mirror dreams? What did you make of them?”

“Mirror dreams?” Ah, his expression of confusion. An old friend which is wearing out its welcome.

“Yeah, you know? The dreams where that mirror is glowing? And there’s knocking from behind it, and tonight there was a weird voice saying something that I couldn’t make out.” He still is staring at you, blank-faced. “It happened before the monster dream…?”

“Yuu,” You can’t even enjoy the shiver that goes through you from hearing him say your name with how serious he sounds. “I haven’t had any dreams like that.”

But then…that means….

You both glance over at the mirror.

The laugh you let out is more than a bit hysterical. You fold forward until you hit his chest.

“Fi-figures.” You hiccup, trying to keep what little composure you can. “Even on top of all of this, there’s always something, right? No rest for the wicked.”

His heartbeat is reassuring at least, as is the low growl that’s rumbling through him and into you.

“Fuck this.”

You yelp as an arm sweeps under your legs. You find yourself grabbing at his sleep shirt as he marches over to the bed and clambers onto it, arranging himself and you so that he forms a wall between you and the mirror.

“Le-Leona-senpai! Wh-what are?” It’s hard to remember to keep your volume down. Grim snuffles behind him and lets out another snore.

“We haven’t had a good night’s sleep in a day.” He says as he arranges you to his liking, his tail coiling around your leg. “And we’re both too tired to deal with this bullshit. Whatever it is, it can wait until morning. Maybe even later.”

“B-but-?!” You protest, even as your eyes feel heavy.

“Sleep.” His voice rumbles beneath your ear, and his arm is warm around you, coaxing your muscles to relax of their own accord.

Well, with an order like that, you can hardly disobey, can you?

[imdefyingmavity]

Mary: Do nots take flirting advice from Robin.

Robin: Why not? It work on you!

Mary: Oh that's right, I dies, we meet, you flirts and then BAM! Four hundred years later, you got me!

[satashiiwrites]

morning writing drafts

I should be working on sleepless in la. 

Big SHOULD there. 

Instead, I think i’ve come up with a name for a 911/mass effect mashup.  And been graphic editing because who wants to finish their rom com that should have been done already?  

*sigh*

Title: The First Spectre (aka previously known as untitled 911/Mass Effect space opera slowburn) chapter 1 vs prologue

Fandom: 911, Mass Effect Trilogy

Pairing: endgame Buddie (MShenko equivalent).  Assume anything else is fair game until we hit ME3 territory because i’m totally making Taylor into Miranda and Abby is going to be Liara. 

Tags/warnings: i’m still not committing to writing this monster length fic(and I do mean monster length if I go for it—like 600k of the slowest of slow burns).  In the meantime i’m evidently writing a beginning, a divorce-era horizon disaster, and can clearly picture the catalyst firing/’don’t leave me behind’ scene in all its angsty goodness. Author may be in deep trouble.  First draft.  Assume Eddie=Kaidan Alenko and Buck=MShep.  Chimney is totally Joker.  Use of military terms that may confuse some audiences and be completely inappropriate as author does not have a military background and just reads too many generation kill fics. 

Tagging because they asked @shortsighted-owl​.  If you would like to be tagged for any updates or snippets from this one please let me know. 

Lieutenant Edmundo Diaz—known to his family as Eddie or everyone else as Lt Diaz or just Diaz—sat in the copilot’s chair on the bridge listening to Flight Lieutenant Han, aka Chimney, grumble about their newest mission orders.  Eddie thought that the grumbling was mostly for show—being assigned to work under Captain Robert Nash was a coveted position and good for your career.  The Normandy (known also by it’s engineering designation as SR-118) was a new type of freighter that was a joint project between the Alliance and the alien council races. There was no ship faster or with better handling anywhere in the fleet. 

Chimney really should be happier he was getting the privilege of flying the equivalent of the most luxurious, high tech interplanetary transport ever made.  Instead, he was grumbling about scuttlebutt that he’d heard while getting his clearance physical from Dr. Wilson. 

“Did you hear who you’ll be working with?” Chimney asked Eddie, implying that Eddie should be unhappy about his new CO.  

“I heard I’d be working with Commander Buckley and there’s nothing to say.  He’s a good soldier.”

“A good soldier?!?  You heard what happened on Akuze right?  That he’s the only one who survived?”

“It means he’s capable and smart,” Eddie argued, trying to put an end to Chimney’s rant that had been going on for over a half hour.  “That’s good to have in a team CO.”

Chimney scoffed. “His entire team died except him. You going to be happy with him hanging you out to dry while he hightails it to safety?”

Eddie was beginning to think that the intel folder that had been sitting in his inbox wasn’t common knowledge as there’d just been a string of nonsensical numbers and letters as the sender’s contact information.  He’d been sent the extended—and highly classified—report on the Akuze Incident as well as the redacted official report that had been released to the press along with his official orders and a copy of Commander Buckley’s jacket. Eddie thought that Commander Buckley was lucky to have survived the first contact the Alliance had ever had with a thresher maw that had literally devoured an entire colony and then the rest of his naval special warfare unit that had been sent to investigate why the colony had gone dark.

Thresher maws were basically giant, hungry space worms with teeth the size of a small shuttle and spat acidic venom up to 3 clicks with eerie accuracy that would melt through shields and armor in less than two minutes.  If you didn’t die from the acid then you had to worry with either being eaten or crushed to death.  The damned things also hunted by noise and vibration so there was no escaping them other than getting off planet in a hurry. 

Eddie might have nightmares about incidents like Akuze.  Commander Buckley had his respect for surviving one. The fact that the commander wasn’t out of his brain and stashed in some head doctor’s padded room drooling from being drugged to the gills spoke to his mental strength and resiliency.  The rest of his military jacket was even more impressive with the noted list of assignments and commendations including that he’d graduated from the Interplanetary Combatives Training (ICT) program and was one of the rare N7s. 

Eddie’s only question was who had sent him the file—he was to be the XO for the ground team but it was highly unusual for him to have gotten this much intel up front…so who had given it to him?  It could be Captain Andersen since his name was also all over Commander Buckley’s file which suggested a mentor-mentee relationship but it could also have been the Commander himself or a third party who wanted to somehow prejudice Eddie in some way. 

He was inclined to give his new CO the benefit of the doubt and see how things went.  Paperwork often omitted some truths and as a biotic Eddie had experienced his fair share of off-the-books blowbacks and prejudices. 

Chimney, however, wasn’t.  The man was an inveterate gossip and had his ear tuned to get all the latest scuttlebutt.  Eddie had only known him for a few weeks but he knew if he needed to know anything about anybody on the ship then Chimney was the person to see. 

[krumsprompts]

prompt # 131

Did it hurt? 

When you tore yourself apart trying to change your imperfections, only to realize you were already perfect as you were.

[stil-lindigo]

seeing clearer

(sequel to another comic of mine, the calamity.)

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their dynamic

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Just wanted to let y’all know that I’m about to get real busy for about a week. I’ll do my best to post on the 3rd or 4th, then again on the 7th or 8th. Thanks for understanding! ❤️

Tensions rise the longer El sits, motionless, in front of the staticky TV. Finally, she speaks. “I see her.”

Steve holds up a hand, stopping all conversation. “Is she alive?”

“Yes. Scared. I- I can’t reach her.”

“That’s okay. Is she safe? For now?”

“For now,” El agrees. “But not for long.”

“How long do you think we have?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay. That’s okay. Can you look for Will, or are you too tired right now?”

“I’m tired. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be, it’s alright. I know how this ends already, remember? Here, want me to take the blindfold off?”

“Yes, please.”

“Robs? Tissue for her nose?”

Robin sprints off as Steve kneels behind El to untie the blindfold. “You did great,” he murmurs. “Thank you.”

“I looked.”

“Which is more than any of us can do,” he reminds her.

“Quick question,” Eddie says, raising his hand. “What in the hell is going on?”

“She’s got superpowers,” Steve says. “Hey, El, want us to blow up the labs while we’re at it?”

Eleven manages a shaky smile. “That would make things easier.”

“So, yes?”

She chuckles and leans into him. “I don’t know. I’m very tired.”

“Yeah, okay. Let me get you upstairs and into a bed, yeah?” She nods, looping her arms around his neck and closing her eyes. He chuckles. “I guess I’m carrying you, then?” He asks, but stands anyways, shifting her so she’s in a more comfortable position. “We can talk more once I come back downstairs,” Steve tells the rest of them, “as long as you can talk quietly.”

Nancy smirks. “That might be a little difficult for this group.”

Steve grins, shakes his head, and brings El upstairs. “My bed? Or there’s a guest bed that no one uses.”

She yawns. “Yours?”

“Sure,” he agrees, pushing open his door and tucking her in. “Y’want the door open or closed?”

“Open, please.”

“Alright. Need anything before I go?”

She shakes her head, smiling up at him. “Thank you, Steve.”

He winks at her. “Don’t tell anyone, but you’re my favorite.” She giggles and yawns again, and he chuckles. “Okay, bedtime for real. Night, El.”

“Goodnight, Steve.”

As he walks downstairs, he hears the group talking. He rounds the corner and sees Eddie, Nancy, and Robin in one conversation while the boys have a different one. “Okay,” he says, loud enough to get their attention. “First things first, we need food. If anyone has anything against pizza, speak now or forever hold your peace.” He raises a brow when the boys all start speaking over each other, yelling out their topping preferences. “I’ve known you for three years,” he reminds them. “I know what you want on your pizza.”

“Prove it,” Dustin says, spark in his eyes.

Steve rolls his eyes. “You just want me to prove even more that I’m from the future,” he says, but points to each of the boys in turn. “Pepperoni, meat lovers, pepperoni.”

Lucas narrows his eyes at Steve. “Lucky guess.”

“Christ, what is it going to take with you? You like basketball because you watch it with your dad. You want to try out for the team but are scared you won’t be good enough. You are, by the way, and I help you with some of that. Your little sister Erica is a brat and a loudmouth but you love her and her weird obsession with government.”

“Don’t forget about El,” Robin adds. “She’ll want pizza when she wakes up.”

“Yeah. Eddie? What do you want on your pizza?”

Eddie smirks. “What, you don’t know?”

“I don’t, actually, because we meet while you’re on the run from something you didn’t do. There’s not much time for small talk, and you deferred to the kids when it came to food.”

Eddie looks at him for a long second before nodding. “I like pepperoni just fine,” he says, and Steve nods.

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[elitadream]

Basically the whole Mushroom Kingdom

Knowing how Mario and Peach “secretly” feel about each other must be exhausting😆

THIS. ☝️😭

Especially for Luigi, omg. >< I mean sure: Toadsworth, Daisy, Toadette and all the Kingdom's citizens would have a hard time keeping their mouths shut when watching Peach demurely clasp her hands together to make a wish - ever the same one, no doubt - and sigh dejectedly to herself in quiet longing.

But they wouldn't know what it's like to deal with a sibling who's literally lovesick. To enter a room and find their brother hunched over and grimacing in obvious distress, his eyes lost and imploring as he would turn and say: "I love her so much, Lou... I- it hurts," with pained and hopeless surrender. To listen to his enamored ramblings for hours on end, yet only have vague and constrained support to offer. To see him hurting so badly on some days, and somehow still having to refrain from grabbing him by the shoulders and yelling "She LOVES you, ebete!!" to his bewildered face. Oh, to just end that needless suffering... It would be so easy. But he can't. When all would be pleasant and bright, he wouldn't mind, and would even take some enjoyment from what he secretly knows... But there would also be times - disheartened and crestfallen - when that silent vow would be very hard for Luigi to keep. 🥺😣

[britcision]

So I made it 4 years without being struck down by AO3 Author Curse! But here we are. I’ll spare y’all the details but let’s just say “fuck this year” and leave it there. We’ve had the requisite Third Bad Thing and I will burn the universe down if it goes for a fourth

What this means for y’all, of course, is that there’s been a long ass break between last chapter and this one! Aaaaand this one is being broken in half because it is Longer Than Tumblr Allows

(And they’ve lessened how many paragraph breaks you get cuz this one is only about 9.5k and it made me add it in thirds, woe is me)

So, as usual, links to the first chapter, last chapter, and the link to the AO3 version is I think in BOTH, so if you can’t find it from there I can’t help you 😁

First Chapter:

Last Chapter:

And just a little recap where last we left off:

Bruce has gone to the Watchtower to debrief the Justice League about Amity Park and the Anti Ecto Acts, and been told that Jason has left the land of the living! But like, on purpose

Jason and Danny have gone to visit Frostbite and learned that they are ghost-bonded, which you should take seriously like being ghost-married, and that Jason is gonna pop out Pitty in a couple more days/weeks and have to emotionally raise a ghost-baby

Tucker, Tim, and Conner are all playing video games and hiding out from the Amity Parker/Bat Chat for Tim and Tucker’s mutual stalking ways, which Sam blew wide open by sharing Timblr, as punishment for Tucker not telling her they were all alive

(Danny’s off the hook cuz Tucker was haunting his phone with soundtracks for half the day)

And Damian’s off being Sketchy And Mysterious

————————

Well You Did Get Down On One Knee (part 1)

The evening was beginning to draw in, the sun getting low over Gotham city. Between her patrol the night before, helping Signal out with a case, and then that brief group heart attack about Jason, it had already been a really long day.

Spoiler cracked her neck a couple times and sighed, then sunk into the shadow behind a gargoyle.

It was smaller than usual… and occupied. Robin glowered up at her, leaping up to sit on the gargoyle’s head instead. He looked for all the world like he wanted to hiss at her like a cranky cat, which diffused all of Spoiler’s tension (but would only make his worse if she mentioned it. Maybe tomorrow).

Sighing philosophically she settled back against the base of the gargoyle, tipping her head back to see him.

“Hey… what are you doing out so early? Usually you lot wait until sundown to swing from the shadows,” she pointed out (rather fairly, she thought). Totally ignoring that she was 1000% usually one of “you lot”.

Robin just scowled disdainfully down at her, then twisted his head away to glare at the city instead.

“As if I needed any more reason to be out than you do,” he sniffed archly.

Spoiler grinned, puffing herself up. She did have an answer for this one, and, being generous or not, winding Robin up was always a treat.

“Hey, I was actually requested today. Signal needed a second pair of eyes on the back door of a bust. Didn’t see you there,” she added innocently, a brow rising.

It was technically possible that Robin could have suited up and left the manor in between Bruce’s message and Tim’s response. Spoiler wouldn’t put money on it though.

He’d have had to be on his way down already, and while they could all change quickly, there were no rushed or sloppy patches to her experienced eye.

His hair was even neatly slicked back into the traditional Robin spikes, one every Robin but her and Duke had used during their time as the baby bird.

Nah, he’d not rushed out in a panic, even if he was still more tense than he should have been. Every line of the kid was tight with… Spoiler cocked her head thoughtfully.

Frustration?

Definitely not unusual, Damian didn’t have Dick’s temper but he’d spent pretty much all of his first few years in Gotham unbearably frustrated with them all. It had just been a while since she’d seen it so… visibly.

And for all Steph was a gleeful little shit and loved poking at trouble, she wasn’t cruel. There was no point in pushing Robin if he was already on edge.

So she shrugged nonchalantly and looked forward instead, reaching back over her head to pat him gently on the foot. He didn’t dodge, which only cemented her decision.

“‘Course, no rule against taking a daylight run if you’re in the mood. See anything interesting?” She asked innocently.

Kid wouldn’t admit it if he had been worrying.

Silence reigned for another long moment, and then Robin huffed and dropped down to the rooftop beside her, folding himself back into the sharper shadow the waning daylight provided.

“No.” Short and sweet, unlike the kid himself.

But he also hadn’t left, and Spoiler was gonna call that a win.

“Will you be out tonight too?” She asked instead of pushing, reminding herself yet again; he’d open up in his own time.

Hypothetically.

Robin made a soft, disgusted noise, glowering at the smog filled sky. Probably even in the right direction for the Watchtower.

“I intend to be. Someone must keep an eye on things,” he grumbled, and Spoiler made an effort not to take it personally.

B had been majorly distracted with all this Amity Park business, not even breathing down their necks about the usual nightly reports. The rogues hadn’t exactly noticed yet, but the goons had.

The big Bat himself not making an appearance for a couple of nights usually attracted some comment, and an up-til-now entirely Bat-free new year?

The guys she’d helped Signal grab today had been muttering about it right until they ran into her arms. Fists.

They’d mentioned not seeing Stabby Robin either though.

Which she might as well also mention.

“Weren’t you out last night too? I saw your gear missing when I dropped by at the end of the night,” she added when he tensed again, hands wedged in her utility belt. “Didn’t hear you on comms though.”

And that was more than just rude; it was bad protocol, and Robin, for all his other faults, respected the strictness of protocol. Not being chatty was one thing, but if you were out on the town you had to call in.

He stayed silent, not looking at her. Spoiler decided he could use just a little nudge. Totally not because she was getting impatient. And nosy.

“Y’know unless you went out tech free I can just ask Oracle,” she pointed out gently, giving his shoulder a gentle bump.

It got him to glower up at her anyway.

“I was not on patrol,” he grumbled, whites of his mask narrowed before returning his glare to the city at large, “like I am not today.”

When he didn’t elaborate, Spoiler flipped a mental coin. Figured why not; they were already doing well.

Kid must be on the verge of having to, dread the thought, ask for help.

“And what would you be doing out and about if not patrolling…” she began, then stopped when a piece clicked suddenly into place.

Robin, Damian, was about as social as a feral cat. And about as friendly with anyone who got close to those he considered his.

Right now, Danny Fenton and his friends had more than half the family utterly wound up. All except Bruce in a good way, Spoiler was the first to admit, but Robin wouldn’t see it like that.

The only trick was, how to word the question.

Spoiler liked blunt. It made her stand out from the bats, who all played way too much mental and emotional chicken to be healthy. She’d always been more of a bird that way.

“Wouldn’t have anything to do with Hood’s little disappearance today, would it?” She asked instead, grinning broadly when Robin twitched.

Hit the nail on the head.

From the scowl he shot her he knew it too, and looked away quickly enough that he knew there was no taking it back. He folded his arms across his chest and sulked and fuck he was just adorable.

She’d bet anything Dick used to pout exactly like that.

Still, she tempered the grin down to a slight smile. Dropped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently and letting go when he pulled away.

“Worried me too. Were you close enough to see anything?” Because yeah, if Robin was already at least on his way into uniform before the message arrived?

Spoiler would put easy, easy money on him having been already tailing Jason and Danny around. Last night too, probably. She and Cass had left early to take the night shift, leaving Tim and Damian with the Amity Parkers.

Damian had one hell of a dose of his father’s paranoia, and Steph considered it a solemn duty to teach him about personal boundaries to keep him from turning out just like the old bat.

Just a little friendly stalking from the rooftops didn’t really count though. Not between family.

Robin had tensed right up again too, but when she didn’t push the contact or needle at him he slowly relaxed back down. Scowled at her feet instead of his own.

“No,” he admitted bitterly, both at definitely having been busted and probably at having nothing to report, “Todd… Hood spoke to the magician. They argued, he went back inside Freeze’s place and did not reappear when his tracker went through the roof and into the sky.”

Spoiler blinked, mildly surprised.

“Hood was wearing a tracker? Didn’t think he was in the mood.”

“He wasn’t,” Robin corrected with a derisive sniff.

And… yeah, they were gonna have to do a little more work on that whole “boundaries” thing. Although the odds of Hood not noticing that he’d been tagged were lower than Robin probably thought. Keeping a tag on him that he didn’t want there?

Nah. She may not exactly trust Jason, but that was how she knew how good he was at finding and disabling rogue trackers. And sure, Damian was better than her at some things, but if Cass couldn’t sneak a tracker onto Red Hood no one could.

Kinda cute that Jason let the little guy think he’d successfully bugged him.

At least the constant mild stalking was just standard for the family.

Shaking her head, she gave him a gentle nudge with her elbow.

“That’s rough. Flying’s cheating,” she commiserated with a sly look to the sky.

She’d heard a super cross Oracle’s radar. Conner, almost certainly if Robin was still out alone.

Too bad he’d not thought to call his own Superboy, though taking flight himself wouldn’t have helped if dimensional travel followed.

Robin made another disgusted little tut, then pushed off the gargoyle and stormed away. Spoiler watched him go for a moment, then shrugged.

“Hey, go get some sleep if you’re coming back out tonight,” she called after him. Grinned when he flipped her off without turning.

If he’d been off stalking Jason and Danny two days in a row, he’d need some rest.

“And don’t forget your report,” she teased and actually laughed when he raised his other hand to flip her off with both before leaping off the edge of the roof, swinging back towards the bat cave.

Stephanie Brown had never been prouder in her life than the first day Damian had said “fuck” in front of his dad. Far be it from her to demand anyone transform into a social butterfly, but she personally was pretty damn sure that nothing was gonna help Damian out of his “raised by assassins” shell than learning some good old fashioned swearwords.

And a little teenaged rebellion. The proudest day was totally gonna be when he finally told his grandfather to fuck off (or any suitable equivalent; Steph wasn’t choosy).

Leaning back into the gargoyle’s shadow, Spoiler surveyed the city below. Technically, she’d been out as long as Damian had; if she wanted to be out tonight she’d need a quick nap too.

Or, more fun, she could nip back to the manor, kidnap Cass, and they could find and bully Tim and Tucker in person. Yeah, that was gonna be it.

**

Jason was feeling good, really. Actually a little surprised at how good, considering.

That crunchy little ecto-ice chip had been better than a gallon of coffee, filling him with energy like he’d actually gotten a full night’s sleep. (Not that he knew much about how that actually felt, at least not when not recovering from serious injury.)

He hadn’t actually felt this good since the night Danny slept over, which had been the night before last. Didn’t sound all that impressive, except that it had been the best he’d felt in half a decade.

Maybe the full decade. For all Robin made him magic, skipping sleep to fight crime had done a number on him in his teens. If he’d been as willing as Dickie and Tim to slack on his schoolwork, maybe…

Yeah, no, Tim was the poster child for Do Not Emulate This Sleep Schedule.

What mattered was that even after running the docks down with Black Bat for more than half the night and then getting up to get Danny, Jason felt fucking great.

Even after three separate courses of Bruce’s bullshit, both directly and through the medium of John fucking Constantine. Not so long ago, Bruce would never even dare call him, much less try and set up a bat cave ambush. That… was probably technically a good sign?

Didn’t feel like one at the moment, but Jason actually felt almost good enough to be charitable with the old bat. A little emotionally wrung out, sure, but he felt lighter for… having whatever that had been. Like the stress that had been compacting his chest had finally eased.

Jason was self aware enough to admit he’d probably had more than one breakdown owed to him. Maybe not a “take to the bed”, “trip to the sea” full Victorian lady meltdown, but he’d had a whole baby dropped on him. Except somehow worse.

He damn well deserved that freak out, and now that it was over and he’d been given what kinda felt like the ghost equivalent of speed… He felt like his brain was finally working again.

Which… meant he was fully processing that his fucking soul was vibrating in time with Danny’s. And every other ghost could just. Tell.

That was gonna make fight club… actually, Jason had no idea what the fuck it was gonna make fight club. By all accounts Danny being the Ghost King hadn’t made any of them less likely to throw down with him.

If anything, Danny had warned Jason that him being a “young” ghost would make the others more eager to fight. It was a kind of play, bonding and teaching the new baby their powers.

Sounded fucking terrifying by all accounts and Jason was just glad he had Danny to explain it to him, since apparently full ghosts just… knew it wasn’t serious. Even baby ghosts came into existence recognising the game.

Halfas didn’t.

Whiiiich meant that all the “playful” threats of dismemberment had sounded pretty fucking real to Danny, back when he’d been a baby ghost and had half the Zone flocking to “play” with him.

Pitty let out a rumbly little growl, like a sulking dog and Jason hid a snicker. Yeah, he’d also be kicking their asses that little bit harder for that given half a chance.

Actually, if they kept holding fight club, Pitty could take a chunk out of them itself.

That thought got him a contented little purr, which was weird enough that Jason was going to focus back in on Frostbite’s broader explanation. Which… he should have been doing anyway. At least this part wasn’t solely for his benefit though.

“In the sense that you have tied yourselves together, it may be somewhat like a marriage… however, it is a very different relationship. In a true love-union, your signatures would beat in time,” the yeti explained, gesturing once more to the screen.

Jason’s blob continued to pulse and blur a fraction of a beat behind Danny’s. Definitely not quite in time.

This was a relief. Yup. And Jason’s cheeks definitely weren’t any warmer than they’d been a minute ago, before he knew that, again, his fucking soul was echoing Danny’s.

Frostbite gave his tablet a couple more taps, and a pulsing blue line linked the images on the screen.

“In your case, young knight, your allegiance is marked in both your resonance and in your aura, which now carries a link to your King. In this way, even if the Great One is not beside you, all ghosts will know that you are the chosen protector of their King. His status is what defines your role as a knight, instead of a more casual bond.”

“No one’s king yet,” Danny protested, folding his arms and leaning into Jason’s side. Letting a little more of his weight rest on him.

Jason leaned in too, frowning from the screen to Frostbite.

“And all the other ghosts can just… see this?” He asked, not really sure what he was hoping to be told.

Frostbite switched from giving Danny a fond smile back to Jason, nodding brightly.

“Oh yes. Ectoplasm is very easily influenced by emotion, and bonds can form quite quickly. I presume you took an oath?” He asked, eyes sparkling in a way that made Jason pretty damn sure he’d met Clockwork.

Which, now that he thought about it…

Jason huffed out another deep breath, running a hand through his hair. As much as John Fucking Constantine specifically could ride a cactus straight to Hell… the guy mighta had the faintest inkling of a point about one thing.

“Yeah… about that.” He pulled a face, gaze tracking away from the others and down to the floor.

Would they think he was a dumbass too? Danny had been there when Clockwork made the offer and he’d been pretty against it, but Jason had thought he understood why.

It hadn’t sounded anything like Constantine’s claims of what he’d signed up for.

In the end, it was easier to address the question to Frostbite’s large hairy toes.

“I, uh… I made an oath to Clockwork, but do I have… a contract or something? The asshole magician I mentioned earlier was going on and on about eternal fucking servitude bullshit but it’d be nice to have something to shove in his face,” he added quickly, arm slipping back and almost around Danny (but with his hand still firmly on the table).

He didn’t need to wait to feel the guilt in Danny’s aura to head it off.

Jason wasn’t having second thoughts. He wasn’t sorry for what he’d signed up for, and when it came right down to it…

He didn’t think people could lie through their auras. Even when he was trying to project something like “I’m fine” and he wasn’t, he was pretty sure Danny could tell.

He could sure as hell tell when Danny was bluffing through his, which had happened maybe once total.

He trusted Danny. He trusted Frostbite. He even mostly trusted Clockwork, because for all the guy had been a little sketchy, Jason had felt his sincerity. How deeply he cared for Danny.

Keeping Danny safe forever didn’t sound like eternal servitude. Eternal babysitting, maybe, if Danny was being a pain in the ass, but he’d never top Damian at his most bratty.

Jason woulda been trying to protect Danny anyway. As far as he knew, knighthood just made that easier.

Which was another reason he’d like a look at his contract. You didn’t make it onto the streets as Robin without learning to read for loopholes, hidden clauses, and fine print. He may have already signed on the dotted line, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t find some wiggle room.

Danny, about to say something either apologetic or self deprecating, huffed out a breath as Jason’s arm slipped around him. Winded up giving him a half smile instead.

“Yeah… that’s a good point. I still need to find out if I can fire your ass.”

“Still didn’t hire me,” Jason pointed out archly, bumping his arm to knock Danny forwards a little.

The other halfa huffed a laugh this time and bumped him back.

“Yeah, and I gotta work out how to hire you so I can then immediately fire you,” he shot back.

Frostbite cut them both off with a raised hand, though he still looked fondly amused. Like they were cute little kids or something stupid.

“You will have to discuss this with Clockwork directly, young knight, but I do not believe a knighthood typically comes with a contract. It is a duty one is granted, and one that may be rescinded if you fail, but it is not a deal,” he explained patiently.

Jason’s brows furrowed a little, but at least he could feel Danny’s confusion-puzzled-not sure beside him too. He wasn’t the only one who wasn’t quite sure what that meant.

Maybe he shoulda looked a little more into magic shit while he was with the League of Assassins. That would have been the time, especially if the Lazarus Pits were the just grunged ectoplasm.

“It kinda sounded like a deal when he offered it,” he said almost as a question, glancing back at Danny for confirmation.

Danny nodded. So it wasn’t just Jason.

“He gave me a cool magic gun in exchange for keeping Danny hale and hearty. Protecting him in the living and Infinite realms,” Jason added in case the wording counted, more sure as he remembered some of the reasons.

Fuck, had that only been a week ago? It felt like it’d been a whole year.

Frostbite gave them a neutral shrug, inclining his head.

“As I said, you will need to ask Clockwork directly. All I can tell you is that it is not innate to the position; a knighthood is not usually something bought and sold,” he explained patiently.

Danny hummed an agreement, cheek resting on Jason’s shoulder again.

“It’s normally all ghost-to-ghost too, so is there a way we can check if the halfa thing has changed it?” He asked Frostbite, leaning against the table too and totally not actually putting his arm around Jason back.

Jason felt a little more tension leech back out of him. Which raised another good point, actually.

“And not related or anything, but if you gave me a buncha those ice crystals could I just chew them to get the ecto for…” he hesitated, waving his free hand at his general chest area again.

Honestly, given half a chance he’d love to get a bowl full and try and pop the pit out in one go… it’d probably be easier to train from outside his body where it wouldn’t immediately know he was so full of shit… his own aura notwithstanding.

Yeah, he was still a little worried about being anyone’s emotional guide, but if he could just get the damn thing out in the world… maybe it could have other guides too.

“To answer the simpler question first, young knight, unfortunately the energized ectoplasm is only a short term boost and will not affect either of your cores. I will provide you with a small supply to assist your emotional control whilst you stabilize, if you wish?” Frostbite offered gently, a slight smile on his face.

Jason hesitated, considering things for a moment, then nodded. Sure, it wasn’t a solid “yes here is the answer to all your problems Jason just smack it in”, but it was a concrete solution to what had actually been worrying him.

Having another one of those weird “episodes”. He’d still be waiting to get Pitty all the way out, but at least he had a backup plan until then. He could pop an ecto-crystal each morning, get some energy, and worry less about night patrols.

Shit, he’d have more energy than he’d had since he died. The others were gonna be jealous as hell, but it wasn’t like they could steal and take his ghost meds. Probably.

Jason… wasn’t quite ready to think about the panic attack itself. He felt fine now, way better, and it wasn’t like it was the first he’d had.

Just…

Just the first that he remembered. That his heart started racing, his head rushing, ears filled with rushing static and the world hadn’t just melted into a green haze of blood and violence.

His early training with the League of Assassins had involved a lot of losing himself to the Pit. He’d wake up days later, body aching with exertions he couldn’t remember, and be told how many he’d killed.

Good news: no fear of that either, apparently. Pitty wasn’t pulling for control anymore, so the green haze was all Jason’s own.

Joy.

He had a nasty feeling that Danny would notice him spiralling from anywhere in Gotham. And probably ditch class to come check on him.

Like Hell. Jason’d fucking call Harley first, put himself through some breathing exercises or whatever, he did not need an emotional support Ghost King.

He gave Frostbite a quick nod, a small smile forming almost without thinking about it. The yeti was just… so caring and helpful. Not exactly something Jason had a wealth of experience with. He’d probably be a great example for Pitty.

Frostbite returned the smile, making a quick note on his tablet.

“And of course, your ghostly parent or a mentor should also be able to assist you. Spending time with those who are important to you, especially a comforting figure will help both your control and your core formation,” the yeti added in a slightly pointed way, like he’d read Jason’s mind, and Jason had to stifle a laugh.

Frostbite might be an eight foot tall hairy yeti, but he’d get along with Alfred like a house on fire… he was even as stubborn about not using their names as Alfred was about nicknames.

And when Jason thought about someone comforting, the beacon of emotional maturity and constraint… it could only be Alfred. He was more grandparent than parent, but certainly the only mentor Jason still looked up to. And a paragon of control besides.

Alfred could help him with Pitty. Model a little actual emotional restraint and control for the both of them. The only question was if Jason could just be up front and ask him, possibly revealing the secret early, or if he’d have to come up with an excuse for them to hang out.

Stupid thought. Jason knew damn well he could just walk into the kitchen and Alfred would be more than happy to spend time together. He wouldn’t need a ruse; he wouldn’t even need an excuse.

The knowledge settled warm and soft and happy inside him, until his brain caught up with his ears and stopped him short.

Wait.

“Ghost parent?” He asked cautiously, looking from Frostbite to Danny again. Danny pulled a face but Frostbite beat him to the punch.

“Ah, yes. We did not discuss that last time either. Your ghost parent, young knight, is the second strongest bond a young ghost can have. They are the ghost who welcomes you into the Infinite Realms, who will guide your steps and protect you until your own haunt has formed.”

Brows furrowing, Jason twisted to frown more directly at Danny, not quite sure if he was looking for confirmation or asking a question of his own.

Cuz, y’know, other than the whole “protecting until his haunt formed” (and Jason certainly didn’t need protecting), that sounded a lot like what Danny had been doing. Which would totally make it weird if Jason was a knight to his own ghost-dad.

Clearly following the same lines, Danny raised both hands and shook his head, almost but not quite stepping out of reach.

“Oh no, it’s not me. You’ve had a ghost parent long before I came along,” he said emphatically, the sudden panic on his face making Jason feel better about his own response to surprise parenthood.

He magnanimously decided not to tease Danny about it, turning instead to give Frostbite a questioning look.

“Should I know who my ghost parent is? Who gets to decide?” He asked cautiously. He’d never met another ghost before Danny, but he had this awful sinking feeling that Ra’s al Ghul might have more to do with the realms than just the pits, and he was the closest proxy. Even Tallia would be better. Maybe even Bruce.

Reading his tension, Frostbite clapped a massive furry hand on Jason’s shoulder, smile and aura both full of comfort-reassurance-calm.

“Normally yes young knight, though yours is a special case. Usually when a young ghost first finds its way to the realms, one of the first ghosts they encounter will take them under their wing. It is an honour to care for a young ghost, and a halfa even more so,” he explained gently.

Beside Jason, Danny snorted loudly.

“Oh, yeah, they totally come running to play happy families. Super wholesome,” he grumbled, arms folded as he leaned back into Jason’s weight.

Honestly, Jason could kinda spot common threads between what Frostbite just said and what Danny had told him about Fight Club; the play fighting was supposed to be about sharing powers, right? Just, y’know, between people with shit verbal communication to actually check in that everyone was on the same page.

The yeti sighed fondly, his hand moving from Jason’s shoulder to rest proudly on Danny’s. Given the width of Danny’s shoulders respective to the hand, the last two fingers were back on Jason’s other shoulder.

“Again, Great One, your circumstances were also exceptional. You did not explore the Ghost Zone until after you had established yourself to many as a competent fighter and protector of your haunt, which along with certain… adventures led most to believe you were far older than you are,” Frostbite explained patiently, with just the faintest hint that they’d been through this before.

Danny rolled his eyes and shot Jason double finger guns.

“Yyyyup, which is why I don’t have to deal with any of this “ghost parent” business,” he agreed brightly, tipping Jason a smirk, “get good.”

Jason flipped him off, but there was something… not in his aura, Frostbite’s was still very carefully toned back all calm medical professional, but in the creasing of the yeti’s eyes. Now, ghost yetis were definitely a new species and Batman drilled them all on the dangers of extrapolating body language on new species, but Jason had done his time on alien planets.

Something in the change, something in the shift, a little quirk of the brow Jason had noted when the yeti was amused. There was something funny here, and it wasn’t Danny’s quip.

Putting his suspicions aside for now, Jason settled on the more pressing matter.

“So who is my ghost parent? When do I get to meet them?” He asked cautiously, still not entirely convinced he hadn’t accidentally imprinted on Ra’s or Tallia. Cuz he hadn’t been in the Zone before Danny either.

Danny himself, much less concerned, waved a hand vaguely.

“Oh, we’ll deal with that on the way home. Go do a proper meet and greet, that sort of thing,” he said nonchalantly, and Jason’s shoulders settled a little.

“They’re in the Zone then?” He prodded a little further, not fully willing to let the matter just drop. If he had to ghost-emancipate himself, he’d rather be ready sooner than later.

Danny grinned toothily at him.

“Usually. We’ll see if she’s around, but it might have to be another day. Gotta deal with our other list first, like if our whole halfa deal is gonna do anything to the knight thing, or your core coming in,” he added, looking expectantly at Frostbite.

Jason almost missed what he said next as his heart skipped a beat, a possibility he’d never even considered slamming home.

She.

Someone dead, if they were in the Ghost Zone.

Someone who’d claimed him as her son long ago, guided him as best she could. Someone he’d never expected to see again, not even having died and returned to life himself.

No chance, he told himself quickly, hurriedly refocusing on the conversation at hand. About his bond with Danny, about their shared fucked biology, about his whole undead future.

There was no point dredging up the past until he actually knew.

Frostbite was back in his familiar role of teacher, that same proud/warm/fond smile crinkling the corners of his eyes as he looked at Danny.

“For your bond, Great One, I am not sure what I would even test for. The young knight presently has no ghost form, yet the bond is present exactly as if he had. I am afraid we have no records of former halfas, so any problems which occurred before are long lost.”

The yeti gave the tablet another few careful claw strokes, pulling up lines and lines of scrolling numbers and data beside each of their silhouettes on the wall screen. Forcing himself to the present, Jason scanned them quickly.

Unsurprisingly, he couldn’t actually make heads or tails of it; ghost vitals couldn’t really include things like heartbeat, blood oxygenation, or anything they’d test for in the med bay.

Not until Bruce found out about all this crap anyway - Jason wouldn’t put it past him to try and buy out everything the Far Frozen had in his latest snit of paranoia. The second he got over his “oh no Jason is going somewhere I can’t supervise him”, obviously.

Frostbite clearly knew what it all meant though, highlighting a couple of different areas where Danny’s numbers were very different from Jason’s and giving him that reassuring smile.

“After your first transformation I would expect some of these to change, and it is likely that any differences in your particular bond would show then as well. Your ghost form will of course be entirely ectoplasmic, so the bond will be more present than it is even now.”

That snapped Jason from his internal flailing, and he grimaced at the reminder.

Because… yeah. They’d talked a lot about his first transformation, he and Danny. But the only thing Danny hadn’t really known was when to expect it.

“Yeah… about that. I know the basics, inversion of my moment of death crap, I’ll be able to change it eventually, yadda yadda,” and that was its own sword of Damacles hanging with the mistletoe, “but… when will it happen? Like, will it just… happen? Or will I… yeah.”

Even wording the question made him feel like the whole thing was just too complicated. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to ask; what to look for? Would there be symptoms? Would he just un-die again in the street?

Luckily Frostbite seemed much more comfortable, hitting a few buttons on his tablet. Jason’s scan took over the full screen once more, zoomed in on the two orbs in his chest.

They were pulsing too, growing brighter and dimmer along with the more defined throb of the ectoplasm. Which was actually when he noticed that both cores were throbbing, so… was Pitty also a knight?

That was going on the list of questions for Clockwork like, yesterday. If he could get it its own little fear gun…

“As you can see, your core is still fuzzy around the edges and incompletely formed; once these edges have smoothed out, you will hypothetically be able to transform at any time,” Frostbite explained, blissfully aware of Jason’s new train of thought.

Probably for the best. Jason reluctantly refocused on the screen, tabling the idea of Sir Pitty for now. Nice to have something actually positive to look forward to.

He didn’t really remember seeing much of the screen during his last appointment, but he had seen the perfect sphere of Danny’s core, and his looked… well, like Frostbite said, smaller and kinda fuzzy. Like a ball of dough after it started sticking to your hands and losing its shape.

He frowned and nodded, looking back to Frostbite and then glancing around at Danny.

“So not until the next appointment, probably? Will it just… happen out of nowhere? Or will I need to trigger it?” It kinda helped, narrowing the scope. Dealing with it one step at a time.

Danny gave a helpless shrug.

“My powers started activating randomly, but I didn’t actually transform until I was in danger. Not like, life threatening danger,” he added with a roll of his eyes, like he’d heard Pitty’s growl… or maybe Jason had echoed it. “It was just Lunch Lady, she was never gonna really hurt us. She just made a mess and tried to feed everyone meat.”

Jason privately added Lunch Lady to his “asses to kick” list. On principle.

Frostbite gave a thoughtful nod, a large hand clapping down on Jason’s shoulder a lot harder than he’d probably intended. He didn’t flinch, but before his pit-growth-spurt it might have knocked him over.

“We can experiment more once your core is complete here in the Zone, and I would recommend waiting until Pitty has been expelled, if possible. Of course, any other changes in your knighthood bond will likely make themselves known with your first change as well,” the yeti mused, quite pleased with the idea.

Jason hesitated before agreeing, worry twisting through him again before he tamped it back down.

He wasn’t that scared little boy anymore; not inside. Besides, the bond was already firmly in place.

His soul was resonating a pace behind Danny’s.

It wasn’t like that little trip back to the moment of his death was gonna make Danny suddenly reject him.

The poor guy was probably stuck with Jason for life anyway at this point, which for a pair of halfas meant pretty much forever.

**

There was not a single thing on Earth or the Watchtower that he wanted less than to stop and talk to John Fucking Constantine and Diana after the meeting.

To be completely fair, Constantine clearly didn’t want to have that conversation any more either; Bruce had not been wrong about how well the magician would take the news that the United States had declared war on an entire dimension.

He was visibly green, had actually ground an unlit cigarette into a grainy mess against the table in lieu of lighting up, and looked about ready to lick up the tobacco.

Diana did not look happy either, but she never had. Her face was as stony and grave as Bruce had ever seen it, concern writ large even as she caught his eye.

The sure knowledge that her lasso would follow if he tried to leave was the only thing that kept him from ignoring her.

But since the only thing he wanted in the world at this moment was to have his son in his arms, and there was no chance of that happening until they were in the same dimension once more…

Bruce shot a quick, questioning look at Clark as the traitor made his way to the exit along with the rest of the Justice League. The Kryptonian at least had the grace to look a little guilty as he shook his head, stepping quickly out the door.

Wonder Woman hadn’t specifically told everyone else to get the fuck out. She had simply molded herself into an immovable force, concluded the meeting, and instructed Bruce alone to remain and discuss these… complications.

Bruce considered making an argument for Superman’s inclusion. They were the original three, and they’d probably need at least his and Aquaman’s help to handle the diplomatic situation.

Possibly the Oa, and Bruce was quite sure Green Lantern wasn’t looking forward to that possibility any more than he was. Hal Jordan talked a good game, always far too flippant, but he’d been pale enough by the end of the lecture that his suit made him look frankly unwell.

Unpleasant times would be in all of their futures it seemed. It was no real comfort as he slipped into a seat across from Wonder Woman and the slumped form of John Constantine.

The magician didn’t even look up, but clearly noticed.

“Didn’t fuckin’ think anyone’d fuck this up worse’n you, Bats,” he groaned, face still pressed into the table.

Bruce grunted, uninterested in his judgement.

“There are new complications we should focus on.” A vain hope, and one Diana instantly crushed.

“One that makes the contents of our discussion all the more vital,” she corrected sharply, piercing blue eyes narrowed as she watched his face. “It seems we have already caused unintentional offence.”

Which was an extremely light way to phrase the declared genocide, but Bruce didn’t bother arguing that position. Not when Constantine would do it for him.

But the mage just let out a long, hearty groan.

“Offence. Yeah. Maybe if we saw off the United States and toss it through a portal the rest of us will be fine,” he snarked, raising his head just enough to bang it off the table. Repeatedly.

By the third bang Diana gripped the back of his head, holding him in place against the table.

“Whatever the situation,” she growled, her tone daring either of them to comment, “we must deal with it as it is. You believe we would have noticed any countermeasures from the former Ghost King?”

She released her grip a moment later, and Constantine rolled his head just enough to glare at her through one eye.

“Pariah Dark? Sister, it wouldn’ta been a single town bein’ pulled off the map. We’d have lost the continent, and probably the world. You wouldn’t miss it,” he added with a bitter laugh, clearly considering banging his head off the table again.

Diana placed a hand on the table. Constantine set his head back down gently.

“And the new king?” She prodded, all icy control.

Bruce had to admit, even he felt calmer watching her.

He knew all the follies and foibles of gods, had no delusions about the limits of her power. He also knew her strengths. Her wisdom. Her ability to cut through complex issues with sword or words.

Whatever he missed, she was removed enough from this mess to catch.

Constantine shrugged, still not rising.

“No fuckin’ clue. All I know is they’re better’n Pariah, which is the lowest damn bar I ever saw. They call them Balance, and we’re not gonna fuckin’ like when the scales come due.”

Bruce’s brows furrowed. What could be a sufficient counterweight for demanding a whole people be hunted and experimented on until extinction?

The dead always vastly outnumbered the living.

Diana cut across his thoughts, her tone as sharp as her blade.

“So you believe we’d notice.”

Constantine sighed heavily and flopped back in his seat hard enough that he nearly toppled over. Diana steadied the chair with one hand, eyebrow rising archly.

Constantine stopped flailing, went to fold his arms, and instead stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Probably’d be pretty hard to miss too,” he agreed gruffly. Diana nodded, having received the answer she wanted, and interlaced her fingers.

“Then we have time to rectify matters before word reaches his ears.” She paused, brow furrowing as she recounted John’s words. “Do we not know if the King is a man?”

Constantine shrugged again, pulling something unidentifiable from his pocket before hastily shoving it back in, coming out again with a lighter. He spun it between his fingers, eyes fixed on the metal lid.

“Nah. “King” is just a loose translation to living tongues, for what yer used to. Easier to say than “Supreme High Ruler, Core of the Realms”. Not even likely that they were ever human; not even the Ancients could take Pariah solo to take the crown, so a human ghost wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Huffing out a mighty breath, Constantine looked from the lighter to Bruce, his gaze somehow immeasurably more tired. Bruce had imagined that talking about Amity Park made the man look ancient.

He looked haggard enough to be an ancient ghost himself now.

Raising his other hand, he began counting off points on his fingers.

“We know they’re young. Everything agrees on that. Could be any time in the past few centuries, but it’s still a timeline. We know they’re tougher’n Hell and all its demons put together, cuz they put Pariah down single handed. Had to to get the throne. Might not have Ended him, the Casket of Eternal Slumber’s not turned up looking for a new occupant.”

The magician stared at his two fingers for a moment, then sighed and raised a third.

“And we know ghosts like them. They’re less scared, though most of ‘em never knew shit about Pariah. Didn’t even react to him waking, which had to happen for the change in power. That or it all went down too fast for the shockwaves to reach us here; not bloody likely. Wouldn’t take more than a day, and ghosts fight for decades on a whim.”

He hesitated for a moment, considering that last finger. Finally he sighed and shook his head.

“Can’t rule it out though. Pariah waking up’d be as much an emergency for them as it’d be for us, putting his ass back down is an all hands on deck situation on either side of the veil. If this new king is Balance, Pariah’d be their opposite,” he finished gruffly, glaring at all three digits before stuffing both hands into his pockets.

Bruce nodded, drawing a deep, calming breath in through his nose and then out through his mouth. Even this much discussion had something itching in the back of his mind, a building tension that he had to Get Away.

He was in control of it though. Could tell the difference between his own unease and the burning ember of the oath.

Turn and run right away his ass. Magic could never hold out against cool, calm logic.

“And this new king, Balance, has stamped a damn mark on Jason.”

And his breath hitched.

Sharp, white hot panic flared behind his eyes, every muscle clenching with the effort of not leaping straight from the table. The only reason he didn’t was because he had no idea where to go.

What would he even do? Run to Jason’s side? The boy was in another dimension, far beyond Bruce’s reach.

Again.

He was losing Jason again. Losing him to this Ghost King, this Balance, this-

Diana’s hand clamped firmly over his, the amazon’s grip immovable steel. Bruce felt his bones grinding together before he even noticed he’d stopped breathing, before he managed to look up enough to meet her eyes.

Stern, determined, brilliant blue locked with his. Her grip tightened a little further, the ribbing on his gloves creaking with the pressure.

She wouldn’t break them… probably. They were designed to hold up against any of the supers the League dealt with. Prolonged contact was another thing entirely though.

His attention now locked on her face, Bruce managed a deep breath in along with her. Held it when she did. Let it out.

She didn’t release him for another few repetitions, until he was breathing mostly on his own again. Then she returned her attention to Constantine.

“What.” It wasn’t aggressive. Just a completely flat, completely toneless statement.

Constantine gave her an entirely hopeless smile, pulling his hands from his pockets to give her jazz hands.

“And that’s what he’s not ready to hear yet. Your boy, Jason, Red Hood, has gotten himself personally warded by the Ghost King. He’s the next thing to invulnerable right now,” he added bitterly, as if that made any of it better.

An icy hand clenched in Bruce’s chest again, but he forced himself to still. To breathe through it. To not turn and run, run until he found his child and tore him away from whatever influence had him.

The Ghost King had a hold of Jason. Jason who’d all but ordered Bruce to let him go.

“And Jason must have been in direct contact with the King to receive these wards?” Diana asked sharply, and Bruce’s head snapped back to her.

It was a good question. Important, obvious, there was a connection there that he should be making, but he couldn’t think. His head was spinning, heart pounding, and every shadow seemed black as pitch.

Constantine grunted an agreement, shooting Bruce an almost sympathetic look.

Could. Could this be the oath? Not his own instinctive, natural panic?

Bruce couldn’t tell, he’d been so afraid for so long, ever since he held Jason’s broken body in his arms. Ever since he buried his son.

It felt the same. But he had mastered that fear long ago, so this would not control him now. He had to be better.

Frowning at Diana, he leaned forward.

“Explain.” She’d probably assumed that he’d made the same connection. He probably should have.

There was just a brief flash of surprise on her face before her expression softened, her hand gentling over his.

“Jason was the one who told you of these Anti Ecto Acts, was he not?” She asked pointedly, a dark brow arching delicately.

Bruce about managed a grunt of agreement, his jaw clenched too tightly to speak. She waited a moment longer, watching his face, and then sighed.

“Then is it not likely that either he has told Balance of these Acts, or that Balance was the one that told him?”

Constantine jerked and got halfway through a bellowed curse before she cut him off with a glare. Her tone brooked no argument as she continued with a firm, frosted patience.

“Jason is a principled young man, even if not of the exact principles you prefer. Either he has warned you because he believes we have time to fix this, or because the King would prefer we handle it,” she said bluntly.

It sounded so simple, put like that. Far too simple. Bruce shook his head, leaning in.

“We can’t know for sure-”

“Batman.” There was nothing harsh in her tone. Nothing so overtly aggressive as the glare she kept giving Constantine. Just a calm, cool statement that sucked the air from his lungs.

The weight of her own mantle, the Amazon princess who would one day be Queen. Not his friend Diana; Wonder Woman.

Once she was sure he wouldn’t continue, she fixed him with a sapphire stare.

“Do you believe Jason Todd would condone the end of the world?” She asked simply, and that at least was that plain.

“No.” It didn’t even require thought; whatever he feared ever since his son took his first life, Bruce knew that.

Jason was fundamentally a good boy. So kind, so giving, ironically he had been the most well adjusted boy Bruce had ever given the mantle to.

Which was what made what he’d become so painful. It was everything he never should have been.

Wonder Woman nodded as if that solved all the rest.

“And yet you called the meeting, not him. He has known for several days already and did nothing to alert any of us. Therefore, he does not believe this is an urgent threat.”

It sounded good, and Bruce almost believed it before Constantine snorted.

“Yeah, great, except the kid has no fuckin’ clue what he’s dealing with. Didn’t even know he’d been fuckin’ marked or that sellin’ his fuckin’ service was the dumbest fuckin’ thing he coulda done,” he grumbled and Bruce’s heart fell.

Wonder Woman was not so easily swayed. She raised an eyebrow slowly at the magician.

“And could those protective marks have been placed on Jason against his will?” She asked pointedly, like she knew the first thing about magic.

Constantine hesitated. Frowned a little, thinking hard. Finally he threw both hands in the air and leaned back in his chair, scrubbing them down his face.

“Technically, yes, alright? But I can’t think of a damn reason why they’d bother. Like I told the old Bat, it’s technically a good thing; I couldn’t even get a basic diagnostic spell off, he’s completely fuckin’ magic proof an’ anythin’ that can read that ward will run like fuck.”

Something in Bruce’s chest flickered hopefully. Wonder Woman nodded firmly, then redirected her stare to him.

“Then until we have reason not to, we assume that Jason Todd has control of this situation. He has assigned us to deal with these Acts, either before his king discovers them or on their behalf. You, Batman, will defer to his experience along with that of our experts,” she declared with all the ringing command she was capable of.

It chafed. And yet… he could hear the echo of Harley’s words in her voice.

What if Jason was wrong? It was the kind of thing he always thought about, the kind of thing he couldn’t stop thinking about. The kind of thing that had the Batman able to stand and go toe to toe with gods.

But what if Jason was right? What if Harley, Diana, Constantine were right, and his usual measures would spell disaster?

He had a dozen contingency plans that any member of the League could use to take him down. He was painfully aware that the first one, the one he’d already shown to Superman and Wonder Woman, only had two words in it.

Diana’s Judgement.

She hadn’t technically invoked it yet. Had never bothered asking exactly what he meant by it; she wasn’t one to back down from hard subjects, which meant she’d also never bothered hiding how little she thought of his contingency plans.

His League-specific ones, anyway. She liked the ones he had for the rogues and various end of the world crises.

It meant moments like this, where she would give him her honest, simple judgement and reign him in.

(Technically it also meant that he trusted her to decide when she needed to snap his neck, but Martian Manhunter always looked at him with disappointment when he thought about that side too much.)

Looking back to her face, he managed to meet her eyes and nod once. It went against every instinct he had, every year of experience and loss, but…

If he couldn’t do things he didn’t like, he’d never have become Batman.

**

Head spinning with a plethora of new information, bag of ecto candies in hand, Jason deliberately slowed down to let Danny precede him out of Frostbite’s office.

That little suspicion had been growing, kindling the more they discussed halfa anatomy and bonds, and honestly? Yes, he had been using it as an excuse to think about something other than his own problems.

Danny seemed not to notice, disappearing past the doorway as Jason looked up at Frostbite. Figured fuck it; he didn’t know how much time he had. Best be blunt.

“You’re Danny’s ghost parent, aren’t you?” He asked, knowing from the yeti’s face as he did that he was right.

The way it froze for just a moment, eyes flicking to the door Danny had just left through. Then the smile that spread, knowing and secretive as he bent down for the first time to put his face on Jason’s level.

“He takes such pleasure in believing he does not have one; the Great One values his independence highly, and his history with parental figures is… complex. It can be our secret, yes?” The yeti winked.

Jason hesitated for a moment, thinking back to all he knew about Danny’s home life. It wasn’t actually all that much; Danny probably actually knew more about Jason’s, after the last week.

That wasn’t just a rarity, it was practically unheard of for any of the former Robins, and Jason knew exactly how Dick and Harley would react to that information.

They’d accuse him of growth. Gross. They couldn’t be told.

And yeah, maybe Jason had a bit of a personal understanding of why Danny wouldn’t want an overabundance of parental figures around. Their situations weren’t exactly the same, not really, but Jason knew enough verses of the song.

All teen heroes tended to have certain things in common, the biggest of which was whatever parental figure they had failing to protect them. Failing to keep them from the darkness, forcing a kid to take on a mantle and burdens that they never should have.

He’d wanted to pound Bruce’s bones to pulp for putting another kid in his cape. Wound up nearly pounding Tim’s instead, however the pit and Tallia had twisted things to make that seem like the same thing.

And Danny hadn’t just picked up the mantle of Teen Hero. He’d picked up a crown, a whole realm of responsibilities and rulership over the dead.

Personally, Jason thought Danny was missing out on an easy dodge of king duties by not finding his ghost parent; Clockwork was his regent but still apparently bothered him for work.

A parent ruling until the child was of age was behind most of the most brutal regicides in any monarchic system; the dead had to know about it.

But that’d mean Clockwork bothering Frostbite at all hours, possibly. Or Clockwork finding new excuses to keep checking on a crown prince Jason had already seen was a handful.

Yeah, he could see why no one really challenged Danny’s assertion that he didn’t have a ghost parent.

Jason spared a moment wondering about his own again.

He knew better than to hope, he really did. Catherine Todd deserved much better than an afterlife of watching over his many mistakes. If there was any justice to death, she’d moved straight past the realms and into the most perfect of paradises.

He liked to think she’d be proud of him. Of the work he’d done, the good he’d spread through the Alley even if it was on the end of a gun.

So long as it wasn’t any form of al Ghul whatsoever, Jason was pretty sure he could handle any other ghost parent the multiverse could throw at him.

Danny’s head poked back around the corner, grinning in a very worried way between the two of them.

“Everything okay back here?” He asked with some of the worst overhyped cheer Jason had ever heard.

Alright, maybe Danny would actually also have been a problem for ghost parent. Because Jason thought he was hot. Because he was an awful mother hen even as a friend.

Jason raised his bag of ecto candies.

“Just checking how many of these I can safely have in a day,” he said innocently, and kinda hoped Danny didn’t actually feel the wash of Frostbite’s approval as the yeti straightened.

That would give the game away.

“They are not a substitute for sleep or nutrition for your human form,” Frostbite told him, as if that was what they’d been talking about.

Jason sighed heavily, doing his best impression of Tim being handed decaf.

“Listen, a guy can hope?”

“Oh you’re not gonna win that one,” Danny snickered, brightening with the distraction and all but skipping in to take Jason’s arm, “let’s scram before he gets the powerpoints.”

Frostbite gave them a cheerful wave on the way out the door, and Jason managed a mostly sincere smile as Danny began regaling him on some of his teenaged attempts to persuade Frostbite to let him give up sleep for finals week.

Yeah, he might add the Fenton parents to the butt-kicking list. Below the ghosts, obviously, for whom butt-kicking was a social courtesy.

But, y’know. If he ever got the chance to have a quiet word about taking care of your damn kids.

———————

And here we have Part 1! Imma just yeet it up so you can all get started while I edit Part 2, because again, this is a Girthy One without an easier breakpoint 👀

I’ll still try and get Part 2 done tonight, but I’ve kept y’all waiting long enough

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Part Two:

[kopykunoichi]

No thoughts in my head, just them.

Left column: chapters 47, 62, 98

Center column: chapters 137, 175, 175

Right column: chapters 201, 225, 225

[kaleidoscopedrawsjpg]

Another MXTX couple design for tattoo flash. Hua Cheng and Xie Lian! I’m probably gonna do some of the side couples now cause I’m having fun with these.

Also

Chibi Eming and Ruoye!

Please do not use!

[1pcii]

Zolu aka the most married slowburn to ever romance

[bryhoney]

Recognisance pt. 1

This is literally my first post, please go easy on me lmao - the slowest of slow burns between AdoptedWalker!Reader x Keegan P. Russ. TW: Kidnapping and Torture. Set two years after the events of COD Ghosts.

On AO3! Semi-Regular updates :)

This has barely been proofed - so, sorry in advance!

"NO!"

It's a man's voice, you don't recognise it. He sounds panicked, his voice is ragged and hoarse. His scream grows louder and louder until it's a deafening ring and-

You jolt awake, crying out in pain. Every part of your body hurts and the ringing in your ears is agony. 

Your chest feels tight as you try to orientate yourself, you're in a room you don't recognise. It's sparsely decorated and looks medical, it's not often used. 

It takes you only a second to notice the three silhouettes that stand in the corner of the room, effectively blocking your only exit. You lurch into a sitting position, pushing yourself backwards in the bed. 

Panic floods your system, you don't recognise any of them. You have to get up, get back to-?

Get back to who?

The man standing closest to your bed is older, with greying hair and lines around his eyes. He pushes himself of the wall and you take note of the sheer size of him. He's muscular and clearly disciplined. A threat. 

Your eyes scan rapidly for any sort of weapon, something that could offer some vestige of protection. Nothing. 

He raises his arms in mock surrender as he approaches, "How do you feel?" His voice is deep, gentle and entirely unfamiliar. 

W--g. Wrong. Wrong. 

Your voice wavers, "Stay back!" You're pushing yourself even further away from him as you frantically try to assess the best way to escape these men.

"Hey, hey" he continues, your breathing is rapid and shallow. 

Where's ----? I am - ------ and I am ---. I have been ---------. 

Your hand instinctively reaches to the top of your thigh, your fingers find only the thin medical gown you're wearing. 

Where's my -----? 

What are you looking for?

"Do you know where you are?" He asks, he's at the end of your bed now. You realise that you can't escape this situation in your current state, you try and level your breathing and maintain eye contact. 

"No." You grit the words out, you hate the way your heart sinks. 

The man nods, a ghost of a smile tugs at his lips. 

Stop it. Stop it. 

"Do you know who I am?" He continues, his voice still calm as he moves to sit at the foot of the bed. His movement spurs you into action, you carefully swing your legs off the bed, just in case. 

"No" You answer again, your hands fisting the bedsheets as you focus on keeping your breathing level. What the fuck is happening. 

"Control your breathing ----. You're --- ------- when --- -"

Whose voice was that?

"I don't-" your voice falters and cracks. If they didn't know you were scared before, they do now. Stupid. 

"Stop giving them the advantage"

His eyes meet yours and he exhales deeply, "My name is Gabriel. You and I work together, you were part of the Federation. Do you know what the Federation is?" As he speaks you realise he is truly unarmed, dressed in civilian clothing. The other two men are in standardised uniform, armed to the teeth. 

At his words, you almost sigh in relief. It's the first bit of information you recognise. The Federation sounds familiar. It's-? E--m-. What was the Federation?

"Yes, but- I...I thought the Federation where-? I'm not part of the Federation? My house was-?" You're stumbling through scattered memories, trying desperately to assign meaning to abstract thoughts. The more you try to pin something down, the quicker it escapes. 

A sudden wave of nausea washes over you. The man in front of you will hurt you. What?

"Dad! Wait! I'm not as fast as ----" It's your voice. You're young.

Where's my Dad?

The man at the end of your bed reaches towards you, covering the hand that's clutching the sheets, "It'll come back to you in time, Sweetheart". You would have flinched if you hadn't locked up in fear. Your heart thundering in your chest. 

"Why can't I remember", you feel a tear roll down your cheek. You're not sure if it's borne from frustration or fear. 

Safe. You're safe. Calm down. 

He tenses and stands abruptly, "You were taken from us, you-" he cuts himself off, "we will get the men that did this to you- I'm just sorry it took us so long to find you".

His back is turned to you, the men that stand guarding the door seem to stand further to attention under his gaze. 

This man, Gabriel, is important. He said you were someone he worked with. Were you important too? 

He came back for you. He said you were taken and he came back for you. 

"I don't-" you feel overwhelmed, unable to breathe. 

You were taken? Why? Who took you? When? What did they do? How did you get out? Are they coming back? Are-

You shake your head, as though you can physically dispel these thoughts. 

Gabriel turns to you again, "you will remember us, and you will help us get revenge for what they did to us". 

Your eyes snap to his, "Us?" You stop trying to hide your fear. 

He returns to your bedside and clasps your hand before he repeats, "Us". 

3 Weeks Later

The chair is still the same uncomfortable plastic one as last time. You fought every urge to make yet another complaint to the man opposite you. You'd asked him to replace it for you, he'd raised his eyebrow, made some notes and said nothing. 

You can remember everything since you woke up in the hospital room, just not a lot before that. However, the nightmares and flashbacks of your time with the Ghosts were becoming more vivid and frequent with each week. Sam made more notes about that. 

You'd see this man almost every day, his name was Sam and that was about all you knew about him. He was assessing you apparently, monitoring your progress before you could go back to work. He applauded your short-term memory progress in the most unenthused tone you'd ever heard. 

He clearly didn't want to be here any more than you did. 

He'd ask the same questions every time before delving into other recovery topics. 

"What's your name" his voice was monotonous, uninterested. 

You reeled off your first name easily, before meeting his unamused gaze and sighing, "I'm not sure". You slouched in your seat, eyes scanning each crack in the cold concrete walls that surrounded the two of you. 

"----? st-----! Get ----!" A man's voice, deep, urgent. 

You fidget in the seat, "Something with a W in it? I don't know". It's the first time since you regained consciousness that you heard one of the voices. You decide not to tell the man opposite you that fun tidbit of information, you're not crazy.

He looks momentarily surprised at the omission before resuming the blank facade and furiously jotting down notes. 

You knew your first name but Gabriel made it clear he wanted you to recall as much information as possible before he told you anything else. He said it would set a good foundation and allow them to track your progress better. It sounded like bullshit to you at the time but you had agreed to it all the same. 

"What's your mother's name?" he continues. 

You wait for another voice, a scattered memory. Nothing. 

"I don't know," your teeth hurt from clenching them, you have to wriggle your jaw to ease the tension.

"Any brothers or sisters?" he pushes his glasses further up his face. Dickhead. 

You hear laughing. "Got---! Yo--- -- ---o-" your hands are skimming the top of water, throwing it suddenly as ----. You hear a laugh and then your own. The sun is blinding and you can't focus on anything. Ha--y. Yo--- -a---.

"I don't know, maybe?" your eyes are closed as you try to concentrate. The sudden onslaught of shattered, unclear memories hurt to try to piece together. 

"How do you know Rorke?" It's a new question. 

"We worked together," you reply almost instantly. It's the only question you can confidently answer. The only answer you've been told the answer to. 

“Where's —-? You came back witho—--?! —---” This time, you recognise it’s your voice. You’re scared. You’re angry. You’re screaming.

You bring your palms up to rub your eyes at the screaming. A headache is taking root and your eyes sting in frustration. 

"Who is Elias Walker?" Another new question, you don't like this. 

There are no memories, except a heaviness that settles on your chest. You physically shift in the chair to accommodate the weight and hope he doesn't notice. 

"I wish I knew," your head is still in your hands, your elbows resting on the table. 

The name is a whisper. It should mean something. 

"Are you alright to continue?" His voice is absent of any concern that should be present in that question. God, you hated him. 

"Yes, just annoyed" you manage.

Annoyed with you, with my situation. 

Why the Federation believes that this is the most effective way of getting back your memories is beyond you. You make little to no progress with piecing together your life. Your memories are still undecipherable and scattered. 

You're escorted back to your room, which lies opposite Gabriel's. You're aware that everyone on the base calls him Rorke except for you. He introduced himself as Gabriel and so you're hesitant to deviate away from this name. 

He spends most of his time in the control room, meticulously planning the Federation's next move. 

You'd been around him long enough to know that his main objective was the annihilation of the group of men who'd captured you. A particularly tricky group of men known as the Ghosts. An elite task force that managed to use the Federation's own weapons against Rorke. They also had an unnerving ability to kill droves of Federation soldiers without being detected. 

From the limited number of redacted reports you'd been allowed to read, the Ghosts had managed to infiltrate the Federation ranks an embarrassing number of times. 

It was remarkable, there was only a handful of them and yet the threat they posed was severe and entirely warranted. By the time I was retrieved, only the most loyal remained as active members. 

The Ghosts had taken everything. 

Rorke had succeeded in killing two of them, a man named Ajax and their former leader, 'The Scarecrow'. 

It had been the remaining men, that had ripped you apart over two years of continued torture. 

Gabriel had told you that the Ghosts had targeted you to get to him, you didn't ask why. You had ignored the implications of that statement. He also said you had valuable information, so you left it at that. 

"Damn ---, what the ---- you doing on this?" It was a deep voice, a new one. It was almost entirely intact. You could hear the smile in their voice. It wasn't Rorke, it wasn't anyone here. It was someone you knew before.

You exhaled deeply as you crossed over the threshold of your room, closing the door and sprawling face down across your bed, groaning. You had wanted to make some notes on the voices you heard. You didn't want to forget them, but you didn't want to share them with Sam. 

Any rest that you could have had was ripped away from you by two sharp knocks to the door. 

"Just me," Gabriel yelled before opening the door, not waiting for any invitation to do so. He smiled at you as you scrambled off the bed to a presentable, standing position. 

"You alright?" You ask, despite your initial unease about Gabriel, he was the only one to reach out to you and make you feel comfortable at the base. He was the closest thing you had to a friend. 

"Jus' checking in with you, how was this morning?" He keeps his distance, crossing the room before taking a seat at your desk chair, swivelling it to face you. You follow his lead and sit at the foot of your bed. 

You laugh, feeling tension roll off you, "Same as always, delightful" he seems to smile in response but says nothing else for a moment. 

Gabriel doesn't come to just check in with you, he wants something. 

He moves closer to you, grabbing your shoulder heavily and squeezing. It feels so familiar and yet-? 

It shouldn't be him. 

What? 

"I'm proud of you," he says, "I know what you went through wasn't easy". He looks sincere and you feel your throat tighten. 

You shrug him off playfully, smiling, "Alright, alright, what are you actually here for?"

He laughs, sitting back in his seat, "We've got some leads, need you to get on them - might have something for once". He's relaxed, crossing his arms in front of him. 

You're taken aback, you'd essentially been signed off indefinitely, "You think I'm ready to - y'know, come back?". You're so hopeful and you can hear it in your voice. 

Finally. You could get back to doing something you were good at. Something that had made you important once. 

He laughs and you both move to stand, his arm wrapping over your shoulders as he leads you towards the control centre, "never doubted you for a second". 

You're smiling. Actually smiling. 

It's nice having someone believe in you. Someone who can attest to what you used to be capable of. The rest of the soldiers here avoid you, keep their eyes low as you pass them in corridors. As though you were a higher rank than them. As though you really were important. 

Who were you? 

[doortotomorrow]

NILES + DAPHNE - 1x17

[margareturtle]

I made a post on tiktok saying that Kit and Ty are the slowest burn ever.

And someone commented no it’s good omens bc they take thousands of years

But you don’t understand

The good omens book has been out for a while and the show only had like four years between s1 and 2. (Which is long for a show but we’re comparing to twp here)

While on the Kit and Ty timeline Kit thought Ty was beautiful and Ty was mesmerized by Kit’s eyes 2016 when Lady Midnight came out!!

(I hadn’t even read TDA till QOAAD came out but point still stands)

Then their relationship progressed in LOS and QOAAD. Where we were left completely hanging.

And the past fives years we’ve been getting tidbits. We still have two years to go and now the seasons of shadowhunters.

Then TWP we hope will be out by 2025.

But we knowww that they will not figure their shit out in the first book.

So all in all I’ll be so proud of them if they are together by the end of the decade.

Which totals to a 14-15 year slowburn 😭

[overthinkinglotr]

Not gonna lie I’m a bit nostalgic for the 2013 hobbit movie fandom…like, were the hobbit movies good? No. But because they were not indeed good you had this entire fandom dedicated to being like “Ok but they were ONTO something here! It’s rocky but you can see how the general idea could work! The movies are not going places so I will !” And I think that’s so valid. 

The films had so many gems of good ideas and frustratingly wasted potential, lost in oceans of so much Nothing, that it makes you want to seize them and Fix them (at least if like me you were about 12 when the first one came out)…But yeah I guess the one good thing that came out of the hobbit trilogy is all the extremely high-effort passion project bagginshield fanfics