#he really decided that nope he’s not getting anymore trauma

[dragonciphering]

okay wtf is dan heng doing in the train during all this bullshit? star watching? playing bingo?playing sudoku? getting hyper focused on some research? drinking tea? sleeping? bcuz damn.

#honkai star rail #penacony #penacony spoilers #dan heng #he really decided that nope he’s not getting anymore trauma #trailblazer is really going thru it man #watch us be able to stay back at one point 💀 #‘how was the trip?’ #multiple frazzled TB’s stumbles into the train #‘I saw two people die. One practically died in my arms.’ #‘….do you want some tea (drugs)?’ #honkai star rail 2.0 #hsr 2.0 #hsr 2.0 spoilers

[piratefishmama]

Forgiven Not Forgotten | Part 7

Never let it be said that the Harringtons knew how to go small. They didn’t. The quaint little two bed they’d been living in was always going to be temporary if Steve came home. Even if it was now… technically theirs. It was a nice house, perfect for many a small family, which technically they were.

But they were also… filthy stinking rich.

The Harringtons didn’t really know how to go and stay small. Which is why by the following weekend, Eddie’s release from hospital looming upon them and the two bed house feeling more and more cramped by the day, they already had a cash offer in place on a five bedroom estate in Bloomington.

Five bedrooms, four bathrooms, a finished basement games room, just under eight acres of land, a pool, and an extra little pool house outfitted as a detached bungalow on the property.

The little house they’d lived in… given it was theirs, well. They had no real plans for it yet. Selling it on was a potential, it was too far from the estate to even contemplate handing the keys to one of the families linked to theirs through their children’s shared trauma, although that’d be a nice gesture on their part, the idea of separating their kids after such an ordeal?

Nope. They’d clung to each other. Kept each other alive. They needed each other.

One of the reasons they even chose the bigger property was because “It’s big enough for you all to be there.” That’s what Lynda had told Steve when he’d asked about it. “It’s not going to happen for another couple of weeks, so the house is still going to be a little cramped with everyone in it, but…”

“We have no intentions of separating you from your family, Steven.” John finished for her, nodding over Steve’s shoulder to the multiple sets of eyes watching them. “Like your mother said, what we have now is too cramped, this new place will have plenty of room for everyone.”

“And… what about when their parents turn up?” Because it was a when, not an if. “Just gonna go back to an empty house?” They were operating on when. Nevermind that they’d never seen their parents get out of Hawkins. Nevermind that the only parent they knew for certain was alive and well outside of Joyce and Hopper, was Karen Wheeler, Ted having put himself between his kids and a Demogorgon during the early days and hadn’t come out as the victor. It didn’t matter that they’d seen horrors beyond anything a child should have to witness.

The kids needed to operate on when.

“Then we’ll help them find homes in the area, but until then, the house will be… a home base of sorts. A comfortable starting point for all of you so you’re not too far away from each other, it’ll never be an empty house, Steven. I know it might look like we’re just spending money for the sake of it but… it’s not like that anymore.” They weren’t doing that anymore. They’d found a better way than being away from home all the time. John worked from a home office and delegated important tasks and jobs to others to free up his time, and Lynda decided she wanted to be at home.

They were just glad Steve was allowing them to just decide to be there for him all of a sudden. He didn’t have to.

“…Forgive me if I still doubt that.” No amount of tearful apologies could erase all that history “But thanks, for… for thinking of us. It’s true, we kinda stuck together like glue after Mr Wheeler…” he trailed off. After they’d gotten Karen and Holly out of that house while Ted held back that shaking door, huge, clawed fingers tearing through wood. He still remembered Holly’s screams, still remembered Karen crying, begging them to go back as Nancy and Mike dragged her out, Holly running straight to Steve. “We were never far apart from each other.” It’d be weird without them, unsettling when the dust finally settled. When parents returned to claim their kids.

“And you wont be.” John placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, firm, squeezing it in comforting reassurance. “You won’t be.”

~~

“Aaaand this is your room.” Had it not been for the fact that Eddie had been in a coma for the last god only knows, where he could, with rules, conjure ridiculous shit, he’d have probably assumed he was still out.

He had a room. In what was essentially. A mansion. But he’d never seen it before, so he wasn’t still in his funky little void because he wouldn’t have been able to conjure it.

Only what he’d seen, only places he’d been.

He had his own room. Bigger than his old one at the trailer because of course it was. Currently empty of personal belongings, void of personality, but Steve was holding boxes. Boxes with stuff in them, rolled up tubes of paper, stuff wrapped in newspapers, and he was setting those boxes down one by one inside the room. “…What’s in those?”

“Shit we saved from the trailer, it’s not much but… it’s something.” Eddie silently turned to just. Stare at him. Brows furrowed, confusion so evident Steve had to ask “what?”

“…How long has it been since I died, Steve?” He had to ask again, just to be sure of something, even if it was a weird question to ask.

“Bout two years, why?”

“… And in that time, Hawkins basically ate shit, right?”

“Yup, where’s this going?”

“How’d you save my stuff for that long? Why did you save my stuff for that long? Shit couldn’t have been easy to keep safe, right? So… why?” Steve fell silent, his jaw shifting, lips pursing, visibly going through all the possible reasons he could have saved that stuff, all the reasons why he would have saved that stuff, all the potential excuses, the boy would be terrible at poker.

He settled on shrugging his shoulders.

“Because I did. Because I could. Like I said, it’s not much.” It was so much. Not quantity wise, no… Steve was right there wasn’t much in those boxes, probably why Steve could carry multiple at a time but it meant so much. Steve obviously wasn’t going to go into the why’s or the how’s with him though. He was going to brush them away, without answers. “We saved some mugs, there’s some posters in here, uhh, I got a bunch of your tapes and your deck, I wish I could say I saved your guitars but… I’m sorry man, it was just too risky carting around something that could make noise. I think… they might still be there but—”

“It’s fine, Steve… this—this is way more than I could have asked for.” He could always get a new guitar, eventually. It’d mean saving up somehow, or using some of the hush money that the government had promised him for signing, he was planning on using that to find Wayne though.

It’d been over a week, the hospital had slowly been cleared of survivors, the Sinclair’s were the only parents who’d made it thus far, having been staying with Sue’s sister a few towns over doing the exact same thing as the Harringtons. Waiting. Hoping. Praying for news on their kids, any news. Anything.

They’d taken the Harrington’s offer to stay in the converted pool house with Karen until they could get housing arranged, the kids staying in the main house with everyone else.

“Yeah well… we’ll sort you out a new one eventually. Can’t leave the bard without his instrument, right?” Eddie’s wide eyes were on him again, a beaming smile spreading across his lips, dimpling his cheeks, stretching the scar tissue on his jaw, and Steve had to look away, he had to, because otherwise he just might fall again, and he couldn’t… he couldn’t make that mistake twice.

“Be still my beating heart, was that a D&D reference, Harrington?” He could feel the warmth seeping into his cheeks at the attention, as Eddie leaned in a little closer, got into his space, it’d been so long since someone had paid him any attention. Even if it meant nothing to Eddie, even if he was just being silly, be still his own beating heart.

“Maybe. Now get to unpacking your shit.” He put the last of the boxes down on the bed, purposefully turning away from Eddie to hide his reddening face, to hide what he knew Eddie had never wanted to see. “We’ll be heading out into town in an hour to find us all some new clothes, maybe some new stuff for the rooms too. Hop to it.”

“You’re not gonna help lil ol me unpack? I just got out of hospital!” Eddie called after him as Steve made to leave the room.

“With a clean bill of health! You can manage a few boxes!” And he was gone. Running away. Like a coward.

#PirateWrites #ForgivenNotForgottenFiclet #Steddie #Post!S5 #Mentions of Kas Eddie #Hurt/Comfort #Miscommunication

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four

TW: sexual harassment, no means yes, asshole doctors/doctor slander (sorry if you’re an actual good doctor), mentions of alcoholism/sickness, burns

You should probably decide to do whatever the opposite of man up is-pussy down?-and specifically request to not have Officer Ludlow ever be on your patient roster again. He’s bad for your health and, despite being the one always putting him back together, you’re bad for his, too. 

You’re trying not to morally question yourself about why you didn’t do something after the first, second, or hell, even third time he borderline sexually harassed you…  You’re trying not to think too much about why you don’t do it now: open the manager’s door with your shaking, clammy hand and say “hey, creepy patient, please keep him away from me”. It would be so easy. This stuff happens a lot to the other staff in the ED, and always gets solved without a problem. 

You don’t do it, though. You walk away without blacklisting Tom Ludlow. And doesn’t that just say mountains about you. But, anyway, you have your own job to do fighting disease and trauma from the mean streets of the City of Angels, so you don’t really have time for all this petty drama bullshit. 

Whatever helps you sleep at night.

You’re not really sure how it’s possible, after eight years of higher education plus residency training, but doctors really can be idiots sometimes. 

“Discharge, really?” You whisper to yourself, clicking on the order to see if it’s just a mistake-nope, legit. 

You grab the clipboard from your patient’s bedside and go hunt down Dr. Mercer, who is currently standing at the desk flipping through paperwork. 

“Hey, Julian, can I have a quick second?”

He gives you one of his signature, charming white smiles that can calm almost any belligerent patient down. “Of course. Anything for my favorite nurse.” He motions for you to sit in the swivel chair, and takes the one opposite from you. 

Julian makes it a point to give you his full attention, and that never fails to fluster you, but you can shoulder through it most of the time. The man is too handsome for his own good, and you haven’t found a female in this hospital immune to his charm-even Shelby, the housekeeper who is strictly attracted to women… and one man: Dr. Mercer. 

“You put in a discharge order for room 13?” 

“Hmm, one sec.” He leans over to click through the computer, then turns back. “Yes, is there a problem?”

“Well, I thought we would be admitting him?” 

“No, that won’t be necessary. He’s free to go home.” 

“Julian.” You’ve known this man for a whole year and should not be this hesitant about questioning a single order from him, but you take a big pause nonetheless. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem; any other doctor you could confront with ease, but Julian is so, so nice and he always gets your Starbucks order right and never lets you pay him back for it. You don’t want to be a dick to such a sweet person. “I don’t think he’s ready to be discharged. He’s a heavy drinker and his potassium is still low. Plus, he lives alone.” 

“His potassium is only one point off, y/n. And the rest of his labs look good. I can’t keep someone for alcoholism.”

Well, the good thing is that you’re not hesitant anymore, just really pissed, because obviously Dr. Mercer’s kindness and understanding doesn’t extend to his less fortunate patients. 

“Wow, that’s not okay, Julian.”

His smile fades a little bit, or just turns mean, you can’t really tell which, and he sighs. “I’m sorry, I’m very busy. If this conversation is about morals, I’m afraid I don’t have time for it.” 

“It’s not about morals.” You try to lasso your anger, but it seeps into the tone of your voice like a hiss. “I’m concerned about patient safety, and his potassium is just going to drop further if we send him back to drink himself to death. And then he’ll have a heart attack.” 

“I treat current conditions. I can’t focus on what-ifs.” He tries to put his hand atop yours, but you pull back. 

All doctors are the same? What a shocker. You haven’t met even one who didn’t eventually do this shit, and Julian is no different despite your burgeoning hope that he was. 

“I’m not giving him that paperwork,” you say. “I’m not discharging him.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’m not doing it.”

“We need to free up the bed for patients who need it.” 

“Do it yourself, then.” 

His smile falls the whole way down, and you can’t find it in your bleeding heart to care.

You need to get away from him before you say something that will make him want to get you your usual coffee order and then spit in it, but he grabs your forearm gently before you can. 

“Y/n-“

“I told you I’m not discharging him.” He lets you pull back. “And I really don’t have time for this.” 

***

You should just let it go, but by the time your break comes around, you are still quietly seething over Dr. Mercer’s idiotic order, and the way he fucking talked to you. 

You’ve come a long way, but sometimes when a man talks down to you with that certain tone, you still see red. 

Maybe it’s a character flaw, but after the hell you’ve lived through, you can’t help but feel entitled to some righteous feminine rage.

You’re alone in the little side nook with its hard plastic chairs that almost hurt you more than standing. But your feet need a break, so while you massage your foot your tailbone suffers.

You need a massage. A real, full-body rub-down–why is it, that the thought calls up the memory of a certain large, strong, calloused pair of hands that may or may not belong to a certain inappropriate officer of the law?

It’s possible you are staring into space, fantasizing about burning dark eyes unabashedly boring into yours as those mitts for hands–

A soft knock on the doorjamb pulls you back to the present–and the last person you want to see is taking up the whole doorway. It takes every iota of self-control you have left not to snarl, What do you want?

“Doctor?” You even put extra sugar into your tone, which he seems to sense is utterly manufactured judging by his awkward smile.

“Y/n.”

You wait silently, allowing the lift of one eyebrow that you fear conveys all your disdain. “I believe I owe you an apology.”

You blink, certain you misheard. 

“I’m sorry?”

“You were right. The patient was not ready for discharge.”

You blink again. Has hell warmed over? “I know,” you finally answer, which for some reason makes him smile. He takes the liberty to cross the room to sit down next to you, with only one plastic chair between you. 

“It took some courage to stand up to me. Well done.”

Dr. Julian Mercer is TV doctor hot–tall, broad shouldered, handsome. His thin scrubs do very little to conceal his lithe, athletic body underneath, and everyone in the hospital loves to titter about him as he breezes by. You’re not exactly immune to his charms, but failing to advocate for a patient for fear of displeasing him wouldn’t have even occurred to you.

“I just want what's best for my patients.” That, at least, is the truth. 

The good doctor nods, his longish hair swinging into his eyes. Maybe you do feel the slightest urge to brush it away. 

“Truly commendable, y/n.” Then he points at your foot, and makes a come hither gesture with his fingers.

You don't understand what he wants, and your face shows it. 

“Is your foot hurting you?”

Perpetually, is the answer, but you just nod dumbly.

“Give it here.”

“Why?”

His smile is gentle as spring rain. “I’m offering you an apology foot rub.”

“How wildly inappropriate,” you comment while extending your foot. You’ve eyed Dr. Julian’s hands before. They may be soft, but they are big, so maybe he could be of some use to you. 

He laughs at that; a short huff of laughter that possibly softens you a little towards him. And once your foot is in his hands–ok, that feels good, maybe better than good, and maybe Dr. Julian does know something about making the human body feel better. A small noise escapes you, and you are breaking so many hospital policies right now, but god dammit they work you to the bone here.

He’s even kind enough to do your other foot too, and by the time he’s done with you you’re leaning back in your chair on your hand with your eyes closed. You open one eye with a sigh as he gives the ball of your foot a finishing squeeze.

“Ok. I’m mostly not mad anymore.”

He gives a short guffaw at that. “You were mad?” Like he’s surprised you’ve taken any of this personally.

“Of course I was.”

“Oh.”

Strangely he doesn’t seem offended by this. “You really do care about your patients.”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“I'm not surprised. but…”

“But what?”

“It's hard on us as medical professionals, to take every case personally. We do our best, of course, but at the end of the day you have to keep some sliver of your heart back for yourself, or you won’t survive to help anyone tomorrow.”

You raise your eyebrows at that. It never would have even occurred to you not to give your heart and soul to anyone who needed it during your shift. 

“I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree on that one.”

You can’t help but notice he still hasn't released your foot, toying with the curve of your big toe through your sock. 

“Perhaps we will.”

He is looking at you searchingly, and it’s all you can do not to flinch from that intuitive gaze.

“Thank you, Dr. Mercer.” 

He opens his mouth as though to say more, but one of your colleagues walks in, and that’s the end of your little moment.

***

Surprise, surprise, when the next night, Guess Who finds his way onto your examination table.

For fuck’s sake.

“Officer Ludlow. What brings you in tonight?”

You know you sound tired, look like hell, and smell like straight up human waste, but Tom looks extra happy to see you. “You work too much.”

You don’t have the energy to argue, much less with the truth. “Yeah, and you get injured too much.” Great, solid comeback, you really got him there. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

He whistles. “Bad mood. Damn.” 

“Just tell me what you’re fucking here for, Tom.” You plop down on the stool next to his bed, chin in your hand. 

He tugs his charred pant leg up, and beneath, so fresh it should be sizzling and smoking, is a nasty burn the size of your head. 

“How did you manage that?” You wince, leaning down to assess the damage. Luckily, it’s only second degree, shiny and bloody and wet and looking too painful to bear weight on. “How are you walking?” 

“Remember the sword?” 

“How could I forget?”

“Okay, well this time it was a flamethrower.”

“How are people getting their hands on this shit?” 

He shrugs, which makes you laugh for the first time all day. “Alright, I don’t think it’s third degree, but I need the doctor to-“

“Good evening Mr. Ludlow.” Julian has drawn back the curtain and stepped inside your little exam room with that branded, signature smile on his face.

“Hey, Julian-Doctor-can you take a look at this?”

While Julian looks at the burn, you sneak a peek at Tom, and see some type of look on his face-not confusion, not concern, more analyzing. Assessing. Thinking. 

“This your doctor boyfriend you were telling me about?”

You can almost hear the sizzle of heat making its way up your neck to your cheeks. This fucking bastard. Embarassing you at work, trying to catch you out in your lie. He levels that penetrating gaze with you, just the tiniest tick at the corner of his mouth betraying his amusement.

Yet he is not the only perceptive man in the room. Julian looks between the two of you, and you swear he reads the situation as clearly as a book. Without losing a beat, god bless, he goes into Full Authoritative Doctor Mode. “I am, not that my relationship with Miss y/n is any of your concern.”

Either of them could have pushed you over with a feather–you can hardly believe Julian is playing along.

“Sorry, doc. I’m a detective. Just curious by nature.” Ludlow levels Julian with a stony look, conveying that he didn’t believe the doctor–or he really didn’t like what he’d said.

“I’m sure you are,” answers Julian, throwing you a knowing look that only makes the fire under your collar ten times worse. “Can you go check on Mrs. Andersen in room 10, y/n? I can handle Officer Ludlow.”

Somehow, you kind of doubt that, and you find you’re reluctant to leave them alone in the room together. But, you’ve already been insubordinate once this week. They’re grown men. What’s the worst that could happen? 

Yet as you’re making your exit, you can’t help but feel like you’ve just left Dr. Mercer at the mercy of a wolf. 

You are glad you went to check on Mrs. Andersen, because she needed some warm assurance, on top of a slight adjustment of her IV. When you walk back out into the hall, headed for the nurses station, it’s almost as though the atmosphere has changed. No one else seems to sense it, but somehow you just know something is off. With dread in your heart you scurry back to where you’d left Ludlow and Mercer, bursting through the curtains.

They are standing toe to toe, nose to nose. It’s made a little more ridiculous by the bulky dressing on Tom’s calf, but you still don’t doubt his ability to wipe the floor with Dr. Julian. Which is a ridiculous fucking thing for you to have to worry about, but here you are.

You don’t raise your voice, not wanting to draw attention, but you do not hesitate to put yourself between them. You try not to notice how solid Tom’s chest is beneath your hand, compared to Julian’s. “That is enough.” You direct this at Tom, of course, because you have zero doubt as to who started it.

“Why are you yelling at me?” Tom complains childishly.

“Because I’m not stupid.”

“I know you’re not stupid. But this asshole seems to think he owns you.”

You do lift an eyebrow at that, but it’s so not the issue at hand. “Do you want to be escorted out by security?”

“I think I’m done here anyway.” Ludlow picks up his jacket, glaring at Julian. “Thanks for the dressing, Doc.” His tone, however, more conveys Eat shit and die. Then he looks at you, and those burning dark eyes send an uneasy thrill to your toes–by way of your treacherous pussy, who does not seem to understand that men like Tom Ludlow are very bad for you. She has gotten you into so much trouble before, and by god you are not letting her run the show this time.

“Be seeing you, sweetheart.”

“Not on these hospital grounds, you’re not,” asserts Dr. Julian, and Tom, damn him, just laughs.

There is just something about that man’s presence that leaves behind traces of him in a room, long after he has gone. You just stand there, maybe rather stupidly, struggling to process what just happened. What is it about you, that attracts these cocky assholes that just can’t take no for an answer?

“Are you alright?” asks Julian, and you actually believe that he cares about you, concern written in his achingly handsome features, his kind hand on your shoulder.

“Yeah, sure. Sorry about him.”

He gives you a gently amused look. “You are not responsible for that man’s bad behavior.

And you won’t be treating him anymore.” 

You would argue, assert yourself, do that thing where you’re strong and independent and take care of the own sore skin on your back, but you really don’t have the energy right now, and Julian-fuck him-he’s right, you should not be Ludlow’s nurse anymore for his sake and yours. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes, wishing it was the end of your shift. “Alright.” 

At least the rest of the night goes by fairly quickly, although that means you’re busy enough not to have another break, however, Julian-apologetic Julian, who brings you a turkey sandwich and makes you sit down and eat it and drink at least half a bottle of water-is making things a little better. 

The doctors don’t really get into the shit like you and your fellow nurses, although they are just as busy, and the fact that he takes time to be concerned about you after the emotional beginning of your shift really touches you. He knows he fucked up the other day, and he’s in full sweet cinnamon roll mode to try and rectify it. That’s why you can’t-and, if you’re being honest-don’t want to tell him no when he catches you in the parking lot before you get into your car. 

“Here, you left your stethoscope.” He loops it around your neck, then opens your driver’s door for you. 

“Julian, it really is okay.” You reach up to pat his lab coat shoulder in reassurance. “And I’m fine. Tom is just a big bully.” Why do you feel like you’re betraying him by talking shit to Julian in the parking lot? 

He looks down at you like he’s made up his mind about something, and grins. “Have coffee with me?”

You blink at him. “Like, right now?” 

“No, Saturday morning. Seven AM?” He grabs the spiral notebook and pen from his breast pocket and writes you his number. “Since I’m your boyfriend, I should take you out on a date, don’t you think?” 

Well, at least he’s asking nicely instead of being an asshole about it like some people… 

You chuckle, tuck the note and your hands into your scrub pockets, and hope the heat isn’t visible on your face. “Guess you’re right.” 

You might be playing a dangerous game, here, but hell, there’s a reason you work in the ED of a level one trauma center; you’re a sucker for cheap thrills

#tom ludlow x reader #tom ludlow #street kings #keanuverse fic #keanuverse

[thestobingirlie]

I have to rant about this because I just noped out of a fic because of it and I need your opinion on it but,

One prevailing fandom trope in any Steve-centric fic that bugs the shit out of me is when they make Steve's popularity absolutely tank either after he drops Tommy and Carol, or after Billy shows up.

Because firstly, just because Tommy and Carol are no longer friends with Steve doesn't mean everyone else will suddenly stop liking him to. In fact, based on Barb's reaction to Nancy potentially dating Steve (excited) to when she brings up Nancy being friends with Tommy and Carol (which Nancy reacts badly to), Tommy and Carol have a worse reputation than Steve does at school so wouldn't people be happy that Steve dropped them?

Steve's also on multiple sports teams and let me tell you as a former sports team player, you don't successfully play on or captain a sports team without at least kind of being friends with/getting along with the people on that team. Getting beat up by a "loser" like Jonathan probably would get him sympathy instead of scorn considering how people seem to feel about Jonathan in general (and because I know that news of those pictures got spread around the school so people likely thought Steve was just being an ongoing victim of Jonathan's creepiness). He's also a rich, attractive, and funny guy. There's no way people just decide to drop him because he dumped Tommy and started dating Nancy.

Then there's the fact that when Billy does show up, Steve is still King Steve enough that Billy almost immediately knows that this is the person he has to beat in order to be Top Dog. He specifically says that everyone keeps talking about King Steve, so why would they be if Steve dropped off the social ladder a year ago?

No one can also convince me Steve stopped being popular after Billy beat him up because firstly, Tommy being his friend isn't an indicator that Billy is now popular (as stated above, Tommy was obviously less liked than Steve was), nor is doing 1 impressive thing at a party half the people will probably be too drunk to remember. He also wouldn't lose popularity from dropping basketball because 1) a bad concussion isn't bad enough to take someone completely out of a sport like basketball once it heals and basketball season wouldn't properly start until a full month or two after the events of S2, so he wouldn't quit because of that and despite what many, many fics try to do, Steve is would not quit to avoid Billy. He just wouldn't, it's so out of character that that's the reason I noped out of the fic I was reading.

This is also not even mentioning that everyone seems to think that if Billy is popular or king of the school, then Steve just HAS to be a friendless loser, which is such a blatant attempt to just dump trauma on Steve. I mean, if they want to make Steve lonely and friendless for the Tragic Backstory, at least have the reason make sense, like Steve pulling away after multiple counts of almost Dying because he just can't relate to kids his own age anymore.

Not to mention the fact that Steve is probably one of the least developed main characters and chances are the fact that we don't see or hear about Steve's other friends is because 1) less people they have to cast/take up screen time and 2) the Duffers just genuinely seem not to give a fuck about developing Steve or his backstory at all.

Anyway, sorry for dumping into your asks (I sincerely hope this is coherent), but this has been bugging me for months and I needed to get it off my chest.

oh yeah, that shit bugs me too. like, i don’t think steve had any super close friends other than nancy, but boy was still popular, he still knew people, he had a place to sit at lunch!!

and that’s actually interesting, about steve being well liked, but not tommy and carol. i’ve never really seen that kind of separation in fics, but it would be fun to have something about steve being the most popular of the group, and tommy and carol being the ones that drop popularity after the split.

steve being super sporty essentially means he always had people to hang out with lmao. and i do see steve obviously not playing basketball for a while, and no longer being captain, because i figure you have to play the game to be captain lol. i honestly don’t know much about sports tho, so i don’t know if you could just jump right in after not playing for a while, but yeah, steve wouldn’t just drop out because of billy. like, the other basketball guy called billy a douchebag. i think it’d be fun if in a fic, everyone turned against billy after the fight.

yeah, steve’s friends aren’t at all relevant to the plot, so we’re not going to see them. and i’ve said this before, but while s2 steve is lonely, he’s not alone. he has friends, he’s popular, but he’s increasingly not seeing any point towards the whole thing and essentially becoming disillusioned to the idea of being the king of hawkins high. but like you said, he’s not a friendless loser.

#steve harrington #stranger things #asks #somuchfuckingsalt

[transparentbeardmentality]

So Katsuki must've known he was tapping into OFA, right?

Seems he figured out pretty quickly that it was happening when he was thinking about Izuku- "Deaths door, in total crisis".

And it kept happening when he would think of him. And yet he keeps this huge revelation from everyone. From Izuku. Because Izuku seems oblivious to it.

He does not know that Izuku is the same -hiding how quirks were unlocked, and hiding that wanting to protect Katsuki can turn him into a terrifying mess. A liability.

So did Katsuki think he was almost stealing AFO powers on the sly? Was he afraid to tell Izuku what was happening? Wondering how in-deep he was that AFO sensed his protectiveness/feelings/panic over Izuku, to the point it let him draw power like this? It shouldn't be possible.

The denial-of-feelings part of Katsuki must have shrivelled and died pretty quickly since he figured it out, because it feels so one-sided. Izuku seems to Katsuki more distant than ever. He leaves UA and Katsuki willingly.

Even after the apology. Sure he came back for everyone, but he seems less excited about Katsuki's abilities/improvements than he has ever been. And with their history, and with how far Izuku has come.. He struggles to keep up. Does Katsuki wonder if he's just being tolerated at this point? Outgrown? Was the apology really too late to change anything between them?

So how can Katuski deny that this OFA connection has come from his overwheming feelings, when a magical entity has decided *Yes, you will be an extension of Izuku's quirks. You have a very one-sided intensity to protect and cherish him at all costs. This makes sense.*

How do you start a conversation like that from Katsuki's perspective?

KATSUKI: Hey Izuku. I know you're not super interested in what's going on with my hero stuff anymore, but uh.. your OFA is giving me some powers without your knowledge.

IZUKU: What?! Why?

KATSUKI: Uh... Maybe some sort of external catalyst... ???

(NOPE! TRY AGAIN)

KATSUKi: I think OFA has detected I have a strong desire to protect you. Like... Really strong. Like I would die for you. So OFA has given me these crazy, rule-bending boosts to like... help with that, I guess...

IZUKU: Wow, Kacchan. That's a lot. But... actually other people would die for me, or you, or any of the students -like some of the teachers, All Might.. I really think they would sacrifice themselves too, but they don't have access to OFA, so why...

KATSUKI: No idea. Nothing to do with an unbearable desire to be with you, stay by your side, feel you pressed up against me, or anything like that... haha.. Fuck.

-- ---

Yeah. Fuck that. So he says nothing?

Then he's on a battlefield, Izuki is gone, and he's being told HE's the closest and most important to Izuku. That his corpse will be used to devastate Izuku, because Izuku can't handle it. Not if it's him. Because he's Izuku's person.

And even though he's getting targetted relentlessly and brutalised, he's also thinking... "Oh... He also... Oh."

A part of his core feels settled, relieved -even joyous despite the trauma- because it all clicks in to place that they *both* feel like this, and OFA knew it. They've bent the rules of OFA together.

Izuku is not indifferent. He's scared and hiding because he doesn't know that Katsuki feels the same. Oh.

How bittersweet it is to have a dream almost within reach and lose it. But at least he knows that Izuku, despite everything, loves him, in whatever way. More than anyone. How affirming that must be. It dulls the pain. It sets his resolve to at least go out as the best version of himself that Izuku believed him to be.

He's suffering, he's dying, and it's horrible. And yet there's a comfort and longing he wraps himself in as he goes down. Fighting until the end for the both of them.

And then he sees vestige All Might.

He's not even surprised. At all. Because he already knew he was connecting to OFA. He was sure before the apology. It's Izuku who doesn't know. But someone in there, in OFA must also know by now. And if anyone would see him out of OFA and out of this world, it would be All Might's visage. Of course it would.

But All Might is not going to send him on his way. He's going to make him fight, because Izuku will die if he doesn't.

#bkdk #bakudeku #speculation

[im-gonna-squeet]

I still dont know who you are, I only know that I'm still lonely chap 2

Donnie has a bit of a late night breakdown, but all is well when they take care of their family, and theyre rewarded with twin cuddles (chap. 1)

Donnie couldn't sleep.

They should be excited. But they just felt numb. It's not fair.

Just a few hours ago they were fine. They were so excited! Happy!

But now they can barely feel anything.

Whilst they struggled with identifying emotions, they still felt them, in fact they were a rather emotional person, so it was very noticable when they were gone. And they didn't know what to do.

This has happend throughout their entire life, but has become far more frequent since The Technodrome.

You would think that having an issue for your entire life would mean youre able to cope with that issue. Especially having a sibling as well-versed in psychology and emotions as Michael is. But apparently, that isn't how it works.

Having awful emotional permanence surely didnt help. It's very hard to keep a diary of your feelings when you forget about them immediately after you stop feeling them. Which makes it really hard to ask for help.

Emotions are exhausting and confusing, but Donnie thought they preferred having them to not.

The only time they didn't want to feel was after Shelldon... NOPE! No. He's back. Hes ok. Hes alive. No need to go back there ever again.

They decided to go and get a drink... and maybe check on Shelldon on the way. And their siblings. And Papa. But only because they couldn't sleep, and they were heading that way anyways.

They swung their legs over the side of their bed to get up, realising their mistake a moment too late.

"SHIT!" They exclaimed as they fell to the floor, legs unable to hold their full weight.

They covered their eyes with their palms as they let out a shaky breath.

Fuck.

Why do rhey keep forgetting about that.

They let out a quiet sob as tears started to wet their palms and the shock made their emotion flood back. Desperately trying to comfort themself, they pulled their knees to their chest, grabbing their plesiosaur plush from their bed and holding it close, burying their face into the well-loved stuffed animal.

Its not fair. Its not fucking fair. They just wsnted to be a normal-ish teenager. Sure, they can still technically do most of the things they used to be able to do. But it was diffrrent. Which meant that they were different. And they didnt like change.

They cant skateboard anymore, and they might never be able to again. They loved skateboarding.

Logically, they knew that with their enhanced healing, they would more likely recover than not, but it had been a fucking year and they'd made barely any progress.

And sure, their family were very accommodating and understanding, but they didn't get it. Not in the way Donnie needed them to.

It made them angry, and they hated themself for it. Because its not their fault.

They would never want anyone to see what they saw, to feel what they felt. But it just sucked sometimes. It was so isolating and lonely. They just wanted someone to understand. To really, truly know them. To listen to them and go 'yeah, i get it'.

But they never would.

Because if The Technodrome was to be beleived, and they see no reason why she would lie, nobody else had seen what she showed them. Or if they did, they didnt survive to tell their story.

But they all went through horrific trauma that night. Raph was literally mind controlled and Leo was trapped in the prison dimension with Prime for fuck's sake! There was no way they were talking about this and risking bringing back those memories, they wouldn't do that to them. No matter how painful and isolating it was.

They stayed there for a little longer, breathing deep, shaky breaths and listening to their own heartbeat.

Now they really needed a drink.

Thankfully, they had created a new, more comfortable battle shell for prolonged use. Though it wasnt really a battle shell more like a get-around-the-lair shell. They kept it next to their bed so they could put it on when they woke up.

After taking a second to put their glasses on, they put their battle shell on, securing it.

They released the spider arms and made their way to the door (after tucking in the plesiosaur plush, of course).

The kitchen light was on when they got there, which wasn't surprising as the others tended to forget to turn them off after getting snacks.

Donnies hands shook slightly as they took out a glass from the cupboard, then the cordial from thr cupboard below it. The shaking persisted as they made their drink and put the cordial away. Thry took a sip. Then another. Then downed the whole thing. They hadn't realised just how thirsty they were.

They left the glass in the sink, far too exhausted to wash it right now.

Since Papa's room was closest, they decided to check on hin first, then Raph, then Mikey, and then check on Leo & Shelly at the other end.

Their dad always left his door open at night so that he could hear his children and they could hear him. Donnie stuck their head through the door and listened out for a moment, some of the tightness in their chest dissipating as they heard him snore. They didn't feel the need to check any further and turned to their next destination.

As they approaced Raph's room, they could already hear her snoring, but decided to go in and check on her anyway. Walking further in, they saw that Raph had dropped a couple of her stuffed animals in her sleep, and took moment to put them back properly.

Pulling the blanket over her a little more, they gently stroked the side of her head with their thumb, snoothing out the creases in her brow. Once Raph had settled down and started to smile slightly, Donnie got up and made their way out of the room and towards Mikeys, feeling lighter than before.

Mikey was a very quiet sleeper, so Donnie couldn't hear anything outside of his room.

Making their way in, Donnie made sure to tidy Mikeys desk whilst still leaving everything out and in view so he didnt forget about anything.

Mikey was sound asleep in his bed, completely sprawled out with the blanket tied up in ways Donnie wasnt sure they could do if they tried. Nevertheless, they managed to free Mikey from the blanket without waking him – thank you extra arms – and lay it over him instead so he didn't get cold.

They stayed for a moment longer, just watching him breathe, until they felt secure enough to leave him alone. It was truly incredible how much calmer they felt now compared to when they first got up.

Donnie, Leo, and Shelldon all had rooms on the opposite side of the layer, with theirs on the end closest to their lab, and Shelldons between them and Leo.

Leos room was on that side because of twin reasons. As much as they loved to make fun of eachother and get in dumb fights, they really were part of eachother. If either one needed any sort of comfort or help, the other – no matter how angry they may be, will always be there for them. They understood eachother like nobody else. And they will do anything to keep it that way.

Gently pushing open the door to Leos room, they made their way over to his bed. Leaving the haphazardly stacked comic books just the way he likes them. From the looks of it, Leo had fallen asleep on his phone, so Donnie made sure to put it on charge, gently removing Leos mask and fixing his blanket. But Leo was a much lighter sleeper than everyone else, and opened his eyes, blinking a few times before letting out a scratchy "Tello?"

Shit.

"Yeah, its me, Lee, sorry for waking you Ill-"

They were cut off by Leo gently grabbing the sides of their face, his face scrunching up in concern, " 'v you been crying?"

They cringed. Ah. Right. They didnt wash their eyeliner off. God they probably looked like such a mess right now. "Yeah, im- im- im okay now though. Go back to sleep."

Leo grabbed their hand and pulled gently, clearly inviting them to join him.

"Sigh. Alright, fine, but I have to go check on Shelldon first, ill be right back. Promise." They gave Leo a kiss on the head and stood to leave after he nodded.

Well, they were spending the night in Leos room now, they supposed. They were grateful for it to be honest, they didnt really want to be on their own right now.

As they entered Shelldon's room and saw the droid charging, they felt the last (biggest) bit of their anxiety melt away and they were so releived they could cry.

They quickly made their way to his bedside, lowering themself to kneel next to him.

Then they did start crying. He was there. Their son. Their baby. Safe and comfortable and alive. They gently caressed his face and neck, careful not to wake him. Leaning over, Donnie gently kissed him on the top of his head. He's right there. And he's okay.

Donnie stayed there for a few minutes, just watching him. They wanted desperately to hold him. To take him in their arms and never let go. To make sure nothing can never harm him ever again. But they didnt want to wake him.

Soon enough, they felt almost all of their anxiety leaving them, so they left back to Leos room.

When they got back, Leo wasnt asleep, and was clearly trying very hard to stay that way.

Donnie sat down on the edge of his bed where Leo cleared the blankets for them. They took their battle shell off very carefully so they didnt hit Leo and placed it next to the bed. Then they took their glasses off and put them on the bedside table before moving themself to lie next to Leo, resting their head on his bicep and wrapping their arms around him. "G'night. Love you." Leo managed to get out before immediately passing out. "Night Leo, I love you too." Donnie replied, feeling warm and safe and secure for the first time that night before they joined their beloved twin in sleep.

reblogs > likes

#rottmnt #rottmnt donnie #disaster twins #rottmnt shelldon #hurt/comfort #tw: implied child death #(hes fine tho dw) #disabled donatello #nonbinary donatello #transfem raphael #rottmnt leo

[eroticwound]

Oh I get so bothered when anyone is like “See! Carmy isn’t needed anymore because Sydney and the crew did Friends & Family without him!” Nope! I don’t think (or I hope it’s not) the point of this show is for Carmy to jump into this huge venture — creating his and Mikey’s dream restaurant after years of being estranged and thinking his brother didn’t love him — and then to suddenly decide after just one good night of service during a dry run (not the real grand opening!) that he is redundant, hates cooking, and can walk away from The Bear now and abandon everyone to have a “normal” life! Even though he spent a majority of the renovation process absent, which led to changes being made — the painting!!! — that don’t “feel” like him because yeah, The Bear is his and Sydney’s baby but he missed its metaphorical birth and Sydney had to pick herself up (with Richie’s help) cause he wasn’t there despite his promise :(

i mean we can have nuance ;) i said

it can also reflect how carm might feel redundant after he "walked out" on them all season culminating in the walk-in. (bolded for emphasis)

like, i also hate that take anon, and i don't believe that's true. he's essential to the bear. i wanted to emphasize how *carmy* might feel (not the reality of the situation): we know that carmy is pretty mentally unwell and can have warped perceptions of things :)

i *do* however think carmy's greater arc in the show has to center getting better and changing his relationship with cooking/restaurants. right now it is an addiction for him that is based on him getting closer to mikey (and avoiding everything else in his life, including good things like relationships, and painful things, like addressing trauma). mikey is the foundation for his enjoyment of cooking (though donna is the truer foundation for his relationship with cooking... much to unpack there).

carmy is good at it, and finds pleasure in the exacting environment, but it's fraught and twisted up with sooo much family baggage. with syd and what they're trying to do together with their restaurant, i think there's a good chance of carmy reworking his relationship with cooking! this meta is a really good meditation on this.

#ask #anon #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #the bear #bear meta

[octoagentmiles]

hello hello hello, i come bearing headcanons for my dearest octoagents <3 the old mens™

angst cw for some of em, woops- (mentions/descriptions of anxiety, and implied trauma)

Natquik:

the Antarctica Incident had a much greater toll on him than he realizes. he's just ✨ Fine™ ✨ y'know? nbd <3 (he's not fine somebody please hug him-)

has a Thing about things breaking/not working. it causes him to immediately panic and have a million thoughts rush through his head about how he'll survive the weather, how much food he has, etc., even if it's something small.

he also doesn't like being alone for too long. you'd think he'd be "used to it", but nope.

but on the bright side: contrary to popular belief, he wasn't completely alone while trapped. he befriended a lot of penguins. mostly against his will, but still.

1000000000% views Barnacles as his son but he'll never admit it.

so gosh darn fluffy. basically canon but yeah. aside from the adorableness it's kinda a burden because he'd probably overheat really fast if he left his station.

fluent in Russian, and used to have a habit of muttering Impolite Words™ under his breath—until reuniting with a grown-up Barnacles who picked up some Russian in his worldly travels. now he only does it in private.

he watched the great penguin race. he saw and/or heard Barnacles there, but wasn't sure if it was him. they left before he worked up the courage had a chance to talk to them.

Calico Jack:

mmmmmmmmmm. undiagnosed autistic. masks really well but only among other pirates, who have completely different social rules and whatnot. he's struggling now because he doesn't know how to mask anymore. he doesn't need to, because literally all the Octonauts are neurodivergent, but pshh

he's going through a redemption arc in his head. no one else knows about it because everyone likes him already and thinks he's great, but he can't see that.

his leg will start to hurt really bad if he runs on it too much—he tries to avoid it if he can, but sometimes he's stubborn, or just forgets (until it's too late).

three words: phantom limb syndrome.

has anxiety and gets nightmares. he's good at hiding it, but sometimes a really bad one will bother him for a day or two.

Emotional Support Bird Pete Emotional Support Bird Pete Emotional Support Bird Pete Emotional Support Bird Pete Emotional Su-

wrote hundreds of letters to Kwazii when he was in the Amazon, but never sent them. he still wants to give them to him one day.

his eyepatch used to be covering the opposite eye—that's why Kwazii's is on that side, and why his statue (slime eels) and mini carving (pirate parrotfish) both have it on the wrong way. he switched it over when he left to hide live in the Amazon.

Marsh:

genuinely forgets that he's green sometimes. someone will comment on it and he'll be like "????? oh right–"

sings; he used to make up road trip songs with Tweak when she was little. he still knows them all by heart.

slightly hard of hearing (for rabbit standards). hi @timegays. you did this to me /pos

Him 🤝 Barnacles: separation anxiety and a secret fear of storms. i will not elaborate further <3

highkey a dad to 90% of the Everglades creatures. every single one of them is like family to him.

he grew up side-by-side with a lot of the older swamp critters (Belle The Turtle, & maybe Flo The Flamingo), he considers them like his siblings.

his first name is literally "Ranger": he had it legally changed, so that he and Tweak (who decided to go by "Tweak" when she got into engineering) could both be named after their interests.

unintentionally inspired Tweak's engineering special interest. that motorboat he has in The Alligator-Shark? it used to break down constantly, until he taught her how to fix it. she fixed it ONCE and it never broke down again. it gave her such a rush of euphoria that she went around fixing everything, and eventually building new things. and she just,, never stopped.

#love how some of these are angsty and some of em are goofy. no in between #octonauts #octonauts above and beyond #octonauts natquik #octonauts calico jack #ranger marsh octonauts #i dunno what tags to add lol #fun fact: arctic foxes have the warmest fur in the world! do whatever u wish with this information #love how someone in the writing room rly said ''✨ let's give ALL the dads trauma <333 ✨'' /j #i think one of the main reasons natquik didn't sound the octoalert sooner in the red fox is because he secretly enjoyed the company (: #anyways #hi tg 👋👋👋👋 :)) #also btw natquik is autdhd and marsh has undiagnosed adhd. thank you for your time byebye <3 #and ranger marsh is The Dad Ever. byebye² <3

[thegirlwhowrites642]

Many people criticized Harry because of his behavior in Order of the Phoenix. Do you consider it was understandable his behavior and why people don't understand his actions?

This ask is very recent and I have a bunch of old ones to answer but today I'm in a bad mood and I need to rant, I'll also give you the more analytic answer but let me rant for a bit ok?

OotP is my favorite book of the saga and Harry is absolutely amazing there, he is so angry and he has every right to be! He was even far too nice, he should have stepped on one of the tables of the Great Hall and shouted at everybody to just fuck the hell off. This book could've been titled Harry Potter and the year everybody decided to gaslight him (besides Ginny, because she is amazing, and they are perfect for each other my two adorable dorks). Anyway, Harry had every right to act like he did! And not to overshare, but I'm quite familiar with trauma linked to witnessing death so, trust me, Harry handled it majestically.

*goes to punch a wall*

*clears her throat*

So, you were asking if Harry's behavior in OotP was appropriate or too much? Well, let's paint, very calmly, a picture of what Harry has been through up until this point in his life, and let's find our conclusions.

Harry becomes an orphan at fifteen months, he then starts living with his blood relatives that, for a reason unknown to him, hate him. So he spends every single day for ten years living in an abusive household. When he turns eleven someone tells him that his life is going to drastically change. Turns out, he is a wizard! He gets introduced to all this new magical world, he has a bunch of money, but something is still weird about him. Apparently, he is famous and the reason why is linked to his parents' death and him doing something he has no recollection of. Then his second year arrives and he finds out that there's something even weirder about him. It's not anymore about some mysterious thing that he did in the past, he's singled out for his abilities and the link he has with Voldemort. And he finds out for the first time that there are things that are his responsibility not because he takes that responsibility upon himself like the previous year, but because he's the only one who can do certain things. Also, by this point, he was forced by circumstances to kill a teacher and to witness a girl he really cares about (for unspecified reasons) being five seconds away from death. In all of this, he keeps being forced to go back to his abusive relatives.

In his third year he finds out that a crazy assassin is after him and again, for something he doesn't even remember doing, he gets singled out from his peers and punished for this condition of never fitting in, never being like the others, all for motivations out of his control. He finds out that the crazy assassin is actually his godfather and that he betrayed his parents. Giving Harry, who has an incredible craving for official positive bonds, another shitty family member. But wait! The man was innocent all along! Well, that's great right? They'll live together now, he will finally have a proper family, right? Nope.

By his fourth year, one would think that he had enough troubles. The Durselys are finally backing off under the menace of Sirius, Sirius is away from the country sure but safe and free and he writes to Harry. Ok, maybe there's no Quidditch but he'll be entertained by the tournament, won't he? And of course, that's when he gets put against his will in the mortal tournament. All in all, he manages quite well, by the third task he's in the game so, of course, it turns out that it was all a plot to kill him. The teacher that he had trusted all year is actually a death eater and Cedric dies and it's indirectly Harry's fault. Add to that Harry was never Cedric's biggest fan, between being competition for the tournament and Cho's boyfriend. I'm sure that didn't add any sense of guilt. Let's not forget that he nearly gets killed by Voldemort and that the other guy trying to do him in was his parents' best friend. Someone who was supposed to love Harry, that probably held him in his arms just a few hours after he was born, someone who probably bought onesies that Harry wore and toys he played with. As we see in DH, Harry doesn't like to acknowledge Peter's existence, and for good reasons. Not only he betrayed his parents, he betrayed Harry.

The fifth year comes and Harry is hated by half the wizarding world for no good reason, they try to expel him with some plot, it's his fault that Sirius had to suffer coming back to Britain, dangerous for both Sirius' mental and physical health, and there's a crazy professor who tortures him. He also has normal fifteen-year-old problems. Now you would think that by this point someone would tell him what is going on. It's clear to Harry that he's not normal, that he is at the center of all these troubles, it's undeniable at this point that in one way or another Harry is special. But Dumbledore refuses to talk to him, the other adults keep treating him like he is just another teenager while for years they forced him in and out of situations exactly because he wasn't normal, and even Sirius with all his love for Harry, has so many personal problems that he ends up making Harry believe that he is the one who needs taking care of. Ron and Hermione, poor things, try to be there for him but they don't really understand. And if it isn't the perfect summary of how shitty Harry's life is that he needs to end up in all this trouble to find out that the person who truly understands him is Ginny, I don't know what is.

OotP is a book whose main point I'd say is that all the people, but especially the adults, who should be there for Harry, in one way or another aren't. Harry understands to be special before anyone else is ready to admit it, to listen to him, to acknowledge what he has gone through. This is why the easter eggs scene is so important, and now it seems like I'm trying to make this about hinny but I'm not. That scene is important because Ginny just seats there and listens to Harry. For one fucking time in his life there's someone who is not telling him what to do or not to do, how to feel or not to feel, she listens to him, and then she offers a solution to what he said his problem is.

If you notice, Harry is a lot calmer in HBP despite the fact that Sirius died, because Dumbledore has finally told him the truth and he lets him in. People stop treating him like he's a crazy attention-seeking narcissist or a reckless teenager and acknowledge things for how they are: Harry is not normal. He would very much love to be but it doesn't change the fact that he isn't and ignoring this fact doesn't make it any less true.

So yeah, I'm sorry if I think Harry had every right to be an angry little shit after years of just internalizing all this trauma.

...

Right.

You also asked me why people don't understand his actions.

Well, the options are two: they don't know how to read which is very popular these days or they are lucky enough to have no idea of how people respond to major life-altering traumas and don't care to find out.

#I'm sorry that this is so passive aggressive #today really was a day #harry potter #thegirlwhowrites642HPmeta

[sapphireginger]

Paw Patrol: Chapter #7

Summary:

The wolf whined softly. “Please don’t go. Please stay.” “I told you I would stay but I won’t stay in the same bed with you. I can’t.” ‘I can't give in, can't let you in, can't dip my toes in or dive in because I'll never want to leave. Don’t ask this of me because I know I’ll give in,’ Stiles thought to himself.

AO3 Link

@badthingshappenbingo

Prompt: Depression

Everything seemed so bleak to Peter now and he just felt at a loss of what to do. The last thing he wanted to do was give up on courting Stiles but really it seemed foolish to hope when he so clearly wasn’t interested anymore. Peter didn’t blame him either. What man, supe, or being alive would even deign to consider courting someone who had brought them poison even if they were ignorant of the trauma associated with it?

The wolf snorted and downed three shots of wolfsbane laced tequila. He put his hand up to get the bartender’s attention. “Another round.”

“You sure buddy? That was your fourth round,” the bartender said with a quirked brow that Peter interpreted as judgmental.

“I’m sure that you shouldn’t question a man who is trying to forget who he is just for one night.”

The bartender quirked his other brow as he gathered another round. Before setting them in front of the morose wolf he asked, “What’s got you so desperate to forget?”

Peter huffed and realized he wouldn’t get his alcohol until he answered. “I tried to court the man I love, and I fucked it up so badly that there is no way to salvage it.”

“How do you know?”

“How do I know what?”

“How do you know that you can’t salvage it?”

Peter huffed a bitter laugh. “Because despite my best intentions behind my gift of court, he was furious with me. My daughter still gets to see her friends of course but I don’t get to be close to him anymore and I hate it.” The wolf wasn’t fond of how loose his tongue felt at the moment.

“What did you get him that made him so furious?”

Deciding that he might as well just bare his soul for how low his inhibitions were, Peter launched into the whole story. He told the bartender how he had carefully selected the best strains of Catnip, Foxglove and Wolfsbane, how he had used the evidence garnered by observing the twins and the man himself, how he had narrowed down what werecreature the man he wanted to court was and chose his gift based on that. 

“It sucks because this man is beautiful, smart, gorgeous, loyal, fierce, smells so fucking good and he’s like so much more.” Peter scrunched up his nose at his usage of the word like. “Do you know what he did the first time we went to his shop?”

The bartender was washing a couple glasses and tilted his head. “Nope. What did he do?”

Peter sniffed. “He calmed my daughter down from a panic attack. The scent of lavender was overwhelming and so soothing. I wanted to bury my nose in his pale throat and just inhale his natural scent.” Had the wolf not already realized he was talking to a shifter, he’d be horrified at how easily he was revealing his status.

With a small smirk the bartender gestured to the remaining shot glasses. “Are you still planning to forget?”

The wolf stared at the two seemingly harmless shots, as if they were mocking him and growled in annoyance. The fight left him, and he slumped forward, resting his chin on his crossed arms on the bar top. “No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Well, how about I comp those and you don’t have to pay for them either way, whether or not you drink them.”

“Why would you do that?”

The bartender shrugged. “Why not? You’re having a rough go of it dude.”

Peter nodded and sighed. “I don’t know what to do,” he mumbled.

“Have you talked to the guy?”

“Nope. He won’t even look at me and the last time I saw him, he slammed the door in my face. I just want to love him, and I can’t when I’m on ice.”

The bartender watched as the wolf downed the last two shots and then proceeded to bury his head in his arms. He shook his head as he pulled out his phone with a smirk on his face. 

[Theo] Hey Jax? Remember that wolf that tried to court Bambi? [Jax] Yeah. What about him?

Theo looked at the wolf and felt a small pang of pity and empathy for him. 

[Theo] He’s a lovesick puppy dude. Seriously. [Jax] He’s there? [Theo] Yep. Just told me everything and the poor guy is a mess.  [Jax] Sounds like someone else we know. [Theo] Exactly. What do you think about calling our furry friend for a Lunar Lift? [Jax] Oh, he’s going to hate you so much. [Theo] Maybe, but he’ll thank me later. [Jax] You’re an asshole. You’re lucky Stilinskis don’t break their promises. Don’t come crying to me when he kicks your ass. [Theo] You just wish you’d thought of it first.

Theo moved over to his chat thread with Stiles and shot off a text.

[Theo] Hey Bambi. I got a Lunar Lift request for you. [Stiles] Seriously dude? It’s after one in the morning. [Theo] And? We both know you wouldn’t have replied if you weren’t still up. [Stiles] Well, yeah but only because the twins are with Ally and Izzy tonight and I had some potions to work on. How bad is the supe?

Theo glanced at Peter who was mumbling and sniffling. 

[Theo] Morose. Depressed. Mumbling. Crying. He’s a mess dude. Doesn’t that just pull on your heartstrings? [Stiles] I hate you. [Theo] Love you too.

Ever since Theo had opened up the Lupine Legend Lounge, Stiles had always helped get people who were plastered home for him. Stiles himself wasn’t a drinker and therefore was always sober enough to do the Lunar Lift. He didn’t want to come after everything that happened with Peter, the twins learning about their mother and so on, but he made a promise and Stilinskis never broke their promises. Thankfully the twins were with their aunt and uncle tonight and other than a couple vials remaining, Stiles had completed his potion work to fulfill all the orders he had received.

So, with a sigh, he grabbed his keys, his phone, and his wallet. Then he pulled on his jacket and shoes. After making sure the house was locked, he hopped in Roscoe and headed to the bar. Once he arrived, he left his jacket in the jeep and headed inside. Without his jacket he was in just a white t-shirt that showed off toned muscles and tattooed arms. The ink honed his magic, his spark abilities but it also looked cool and each of them represented something important to him.

He caught sight of Theo and made his way over. “Hey. So, where’s the—”

“Stiles?”

Stiles froze and the look he gave Theo was so full of anger that Theo actually took a step back and raised his hands placatingly. ‘I’m going to kill you for this,’ Stiles mouthed. 

Theo gulped and turned to help the last few customers. 

The scent hit Stiles as he turned to face the man who had called to him. Peter was drunk as a fucking skunk, and it made Stiles’s gut clench uncomfortably. He himself didn’t like alcohol and never drank which made him the perfect person to call when it came to picking up the drunk skunks—or drunk pups in Peter's case. “Peter,” he ground out. 

Peter smiled slightly and then sniffled. “You said my name.”

Stiles scrunched up his nose and furrowed his brow. “Uh, yeah? Is that a bad thing?”

“Oh, not at all but you never look at me or talk to me anymore. I miss you.”

A light blush formed on Stiles’s cheeks and when he glanced at Theo to renew his threat, the man simply quirked a brow and gave him a knowing look. Of course, the coyote had thought this through and had decided he’d had enough of Stiles’s own moping and pining. Whatever. “All right, well let’s get you home, Peter wolf.”

Peter stilled and shook his head. “No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because then you’ll leave again.”

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in exasperation. “I won’t leave until you’re sober enough to be left alone.”

Peter hiccupped and cleared his throat. “What about Cas and Reyn?”

“They are with their aunt and uncle this weekend. So, I’m all yours for—” Stiles cut off and shook his head, hating how he felt so out of sorts. “Let’s go. If you’re not with me when I reach my jeep, I’ll leave you here.” He spun and marched towards the door confidently until he felt the heat of the wolf right behind him. Stiles wasn’t sure what it said that he left his back facing Peter as they made their way to his jeep.

Once the wolf was in the passenger seat of the jeep, Stiles got in and started it up. He knew where Peter lived by heart now and started in that direction, doing his level best to ignore the way he could feel the wolf’s gaze boring into the side of his face. He was so torn right now. A part of him wanted to preen at having the man’s attention solely on him while the other part of him was just anxious to get away.

They arrived at Peter’s house before long and Stiles merely nodded at Cora when she answered the door, quirking her brow in question. Stiles didn’t give any answer to the hundreds of questions he could read in her eyes. She left and went next door to her own house, leaving Stiles to get Peter settled. True to his word he didn’t leave the wolf alone, but he did put his foot down when Peter tried to get him to snuggle in the wolf’s bed.

“No, Peter.”

The wolf whined softly. “Please don’t go. Please stay.”

“I told you I would stay but I won’t stay in the same bed with you. I can’t.” ‘I can't give in, can't let you in, can't dip my toes in or dive in because I'll never want to leave. Don’t ask this of me because I know I’ll give in,’ Stiles thought to himself.

“Okay,” the wolf whispered, releasing Stiles’s hand as the amber eyed man headed to the hallway. “Stiles?”

Said man paused with his hand on the door jam and glanced back at the sleepy wolf. “Yes, Peter?”

“I love you. Thank you for this dream.”

Before Stiles could say anything in response, Peter was sound asleep, leaving the weretiger spark frozen in shock. He tried to ignore the warmth spreading through him at the love confession, but it was nearly impossible. He sank down onto the couch in the living room downstairs and clutched at his chest. “He loves me,” he whispered, his ears popping out and his chest rumbling with a pleased purr. That was how he fell asleep after shooting a text to Ally and Izzy about what had happened.

#bad things happen bingo #bad things happen #teen wolf #square filled: depression #steter #kid fic #steter mini bang 2023 #steter mini bang #steter bang 2023 #bthb #card two #chapter 7

[takaraphoenix]

There is one thing in particular that irritates me about the way the Scoobies treat Buffy at times - aside from, ya know, the obvious backstabbing. It’s the hypocrisy, mostly born from how the narrative ops out of giving us factual details on the Scoobies’ lives outside of Buffy.

And let me start this rant by saying that Anya Jenkins is utterly and completely taken out of this. She was dumped onto this planet, found a boyfriend to live at rent free, stumbled into becoming the owner of a magic shop and also being the only person to suggest Buffy should be paid for slaying.

Let’s continue with getting the most obvious thing out of the way: They all keep forgetting that she is the Slayer. They really don’t seem to get that the fate of the world is an additional responsibility that Buffy has, on top of everything else they’re expecting of her. It’s like that fact conveniently leaves their brains when they get upset at Buffy.

And actually, let’s also add how conveniently they all disregard Buffy’s mental health. Her trauma response of running away? Nope, she gets blamed for it, nobody think about getting her help or remember that there was a severely traumatizing reason for her to run away from that. Her not like immediately shrugging off that she actually died? How dare she, why is she not a functioning part of society yet? Gee, I don’t know, maybe because she was laying buried in a coffin until like a week ago. Get that girl some therapy.

Now, let’s get to the actual main part of the post; though the two above mentioned points weight very heavily and count to all of them.

Let’s start with the one we actually have most on. Xander. He got to go on a long road-trip, because hey he doesn’t have the responsibility of the world weighting on his shoulders. And then he kinda just... drifted for a while, living in his parents’ basement. After that, he actually got his life together, got a proper job, started living responsible, got his own apartment. He’s... the only one... where we really know for a fact where his money comes from, making him a bit the odd man out. Still, there is so much hypocrisy in how he too expects Buffy to get her life together; he took forever to get his life together too - road-trip, living in his parents’ basement - but he could do that, because he had the cushion of his parents and the lack of world-ending responsibility.

Giles just confuses me, to be honest. Yes, at first, it’s very clear where he got his money from. Nice being paid twice, isn’t it? Working legally as the librarian of the school and most definitely also getting paid by the Watcher’s Council for that job. But then he kind of lost... both of that? And turned into an alcoholic who didn’t leave his house? I mean, thanks to the comics, I assume that even if the double-pay he received prior didn’t cushion him well enough, his aunts probably send him money. The Giles Estate seems to be well off. That’s an educated guess though, not really a fact. We don’t really know how he afforded to just drift into alcoholism in his phase between being a paid Watcher and librarian until he buys the Magic Shop (which, also... after how long without a job? He just has the money laying around to buy a business? I know these are the 90s, but damn. I will, again, assume his aunts and The Giles MoneyTM helped out here).

He confuses me the most, because in his relationship with Buffy, he is either written as the loving and supporting father or as the strict Watcher. And those two clash. Like when Giles decided to fuck off to England because Slayer!Buffy doesn’t need Watcher!Buffy anymore (what. What made you think that. A severely traumatized Slayer who just died seems to be in need of a Watcher’s guidance). But daughter!Buffy, who just recently lost her mother already and has a little sister to raise, on top of her trauma and Slayer responsibility, could have really, really I mean really needed dad!Giles.

Would have also been nice if dad!Giles had pitched in some with that Giles MoneyTM. I don’t expect him to pay for everything forever, but come on, the girl just died and is now basically a single mom with running bills who is too busy saving the world to hold down a job, at least help bridge things.

How he, of all people, expected her to get her life together so quickly, I will never understand. Because you can cut Willow and Xander a marginal amount of slack on basis of them being regular humans. Even if they have been involved for years and should know the Slayer responsibility, I really don’t think they ever fully grasped that. Rupert Giles, Watcher of the Slayer, absolutely has zero excuse not to get that and to just accidentally forget about it.

Willow is honestly the worst here; we literally know jackshit about her? I mean, she clearly didn’t have a job during college, so were her parents paying her tuition? What was she even studying? Like, I get it, Americans do this weird thing where they don’t seem to sign up for an actual streamlined major but just take whatever classes look shiny and it does not seem to need a coherent end goal for some reason, but... we never really got her talking about her plans for the future?

Heck. Did she ever even finish college? Buffy died and her and Tara just moved into the Summers home. But did they finish college? What did they graduate in? What degree do they have and what did they do with it?

Which, at this point I will just save time and talk about Willow and Tara both. Because all of this applies to both of them equally. We never get their major, or if they graduate, and we never see either of them work a day in their life.

It’s suggested that they didn’t pitch in at the Summers home at all, since Buffy learns that her money has been going into paying said bills and she is now broke. Which, I understand taking part from it, half if you must, since it’s now Dawn’s money and Dawn still lives here. But two of the three residents in this house are Willow and Tara, they ought to pay at least half of all of the bills? Which they seemingly did not?

And hey, what money would they use to pay anyway? Seriously, they have never been shown to go to work, come to work, or mention work, at all. They just hang out at the magic shop, but they’re not really paid employees there either, judging from everything we’ve gotten?

From the narrative we’re given, it looks like Tara and Willow either quit college or finished college, and then moved into the Summers home, where they never paid a single bill, and just... lived there, until Tara dies and until Sunnydale disappears in a hole in the ground, in Willow’s case.

The point of this post, aside from ranting, is that the hypocrisy of the Scoobies’ judgment would be far smaller if we had actually any idea how they’re paying their bills. Giles and Willow judging Buffy for not getting everything done all at once would feel much less hypocritical (but still hypocritical on account of the first two points; trauma and slaying) if it didn’t feel like the two are resting on nice plot-armor-esque money-cushions that provide whatever they need.

Like, if Willow, who yes raised Dawn for months and does a lot in her witch-capacities, had a stated job that she had to go to, that drained her, that made her pay a fourth of the Summers bills post Buffy resurrection, if she was actually explicitly shown to financially support Buffy and carry her own weight, instead of being framed as someone living rent free in the Summers house and expecting Buffy to carry her weight too? It would count for something.

(Again, they would still be hypocrites for expecting Buffy to get over her trauma without any help and to hold a job and raise a kid and save the world.)

#Buffy Summers #Buffy the Vampire Slayer

[hellsbellschime]

i'm really sorry you're going thru such a difficult time. i know what it's like to live with a mentally ill person and it's never easy. when i was a teen i lived with my mom and step-dad and he was bipolar (divorced now thank god). it was always a minefield having to deal with him because he either was always having his meds adjusted or he decided to get off his meds because he thought he didn't need them anymore and was coping with alcohol instead. i remember once when i was 14 he had been drinking and not taking his meds and it was like 2am and he was blasting music and screaming at his cat because he said she was talking back to him. i turned the music down and was walking back to my bed when he came out of nowhere and started to choke me. thankfully my mom and his daughter had also woken up because it took them both to pull him off me. sadly that wasn't the last of him in my life, took my mom years to get strong enough to leave him.

idk how volatile your situation is, but i hope you can stay safe. it's scary how unpredictable they can be, especially when they aren't properly medicated. is there any way you could report the car stolen? because that could possibly help you start the process of having her being put on a psychiatric hold if she committed a crime/is a danger to others. or maybe it's time to tell her that she needs to make other arrangements because you cannot keep taking care of her. i know she's your mom so you probably feel an obligation to her, but your first priority should be to your own health and happiness. it feels selfish saying that, at least for me since i grew up with the mentality that you should put others first, especially elders/family. but when they are toxic and hurting you i think it's ok to be selfish.

Jesus Christ I'm sorry you had to deal with that, I know it's a nightmare at any age but when you're a kid it's extra terrifying. It's also weird to think about in retrospect, like I know how maddening it is now that I'm an adult, I know that every other adult in her life bailed because they just couldn't take it, so to be dealing with that as a child must have been so scary that my brain literally protected me from fully processing it all. And a lot of people don't realize it or don't have bipolar that's that severe, but my mom is also one whose mania can get so intense that she literally becomes delusional which is also scary af, it sucks that we both had to deal with that as children. She's a "how about I don't take meds and just drink/do my own drugs to solve my problems" type too, which again is it's own fucking nightmare because dealing with a mentally ill alcoholic is REALLY not the tea.

It's actually ironic, the other day my mom ditched me at the Taylor Swift concert we went to and she talked about a conversation she had with someone else where she sort of jokingly said that every time she disappears on me I think she's dead. It activated a weird memory that I just hadn't thought of for a while, because it's actually true, and it's because when I was a kid she would just vanish and leave me at home for sometimes days without calling or saying anything, and when she said that I just had a very vivid flashback of my childhood before I understood that this was just a thing that was going to happen and literally sat there alone, terrified, crying my eyes out and trying to stay up all night because I was too scared to go to sleep in my house by myself and literally being so sure that she didn't come home because she was dead. Which was something I went through more than once before I realized okay, she's not dead, she's just not coming home for some reason. And again, it was a weird insight into the total disconnect between us, because in her mind this is just some kooky problem I have and I was immediately like OH NOPE I KNOW EXACTLY WHERE THAT TRAUMA COMES FROM

Thankfully my mom is weak af now and I'm not though, we sort of got into it a few weeks ago and she did try to like, hurt my wrist, but she's so goddamn weak and I remembered at least enough Krav Maga to know how to hold myself steady, so we had a bizarre standoff that I think actually lowkey intimidated her or at least made her realize she can't do dick to me, because she was trying to bend my wrist with all her might using both hands and I just locked my arm completely straight and she literally could not move it. I think she could see in my eyes that I was like "mmm you sure you want this smoke asshole" and she realized she didn't.

And yes, I have been contemplating reporting my car stolen for the last hour or so because she has now been gone for almost 24 hours and has not answered her phone once even though I have called over 60 times in the last hour-ish. When or if she does come back I honestly do want to say that she should just GTFO, I mean again she's contributing absolutely nothing, she hasn't paid rent the entire time we've been here anyway and while I don't think we're ACTUALLY going to get evicted, her behavior has been kooky enough that clearly people in the building have reported it and it was enough for the landlord to send an official written warning. So like, sure, if you don't want to contribute shit and just want to go off living your manic cracked out dreams, go away and let me actually live a life without your crazy for once.

LOL and not even kidding, in the process of me writing this whole rant she finally picked up her phone, told me she'd be home in an hour, and promptly hung up on me. I'm honestly going to lose my mind.

#real life woes

[flightfoot]

Sometimes I really hate the show for not allowing cn to be angry with lb and he has a lot of reason to be angry and upset at her too! It's also the same with most of fic I read, people let lb get angry at cn but do not let cn get angry at her even though it's justified. Whenever he's angry at her she would yelled back at him and he's quick to yield or that he still simp her even though she had hurt him. It's in character because that's his trauma response but I hope I can read a fic where cn can and allowed to be angry and instead of lb yelled back at him and getting defensive she would listen to him or you know, let him admitted that she hurt him and questioned if pursuing her or be her "partner" is still worth it. If you know a fic with similar premise like that, please let me now. Thanks!

I do see what you're getting at here, since there are times when I've been frustrated at Marinette, and when Chat Noir could justifiably be upset at her (Season 4 has a few examples), but where he didn't really get to have an in-depth talk with her to resolve these issues, not ones where it felt like he really got to work out the problems he had, anyway. I've mostly settled for Ladybug making more of an effort to include Chat Noir, to not hide secrets from him anymore that aren't strictly necessary, NOW at least. She never wanted to hurt him like that, she cares about him a lot, she just didn't think about how that might hurt him.

There are fics where Chat Noir gets upset at Ladybug and is allowed to be angry, with Ladybug listening to his concerns and changing her approach, especially during season 4. They aren't very common at all though, not when compared to the whole Chameleon saltfic trends, anyway. There are also ones that go beyond that and into full bashing, making Marinette into a stalker as a civilian and into someone who just, didn't care for or respect Chat Noir in the slightest and treated him badly as Ladybug, but that trends towards the same sort of Ron the Death Eater that I abhor in the regular saltdom, so I stay out of those stories once I realize where they're going. I noped out of a story fairly recently, actually, when I realized during chapter 2 that it was gonna demonize Marinette, treat her negatively in a way I found unfair.

Again, though, keep in mind that those are rare, and generally are not very popular on the infrequent occasions when they do pop up, they don't make up multiple sub-fandoms like the Saltinette sphere does.

As far as fics where Chat Noir is allowed to be justifiably angry with Ladybug for something she did, and Ladybug recognizes that, apologizes, and changes her approach, I actually wrote a fic I think you might like. I was pretty unhappy with how Ladybug lied to Chat Noir and manipulated him in Ephemeral, with her "lie to him about wanting a full Reveal, use that opportunity to have a third party secretly listen to find out Chat's identity, rewind time so Chat never knew anything had happened, and have that third part tell Su-Han Chat's secret identity, circumventing the need for Chat's knowledge or consent in any of this" plan, especially since it never got brought up later. So I decided to write a fic to help me process that, being fair to Marinette and keeping in mind her feelings and view on the situation, while also letting Adrien feel hurt and to lay down some boundaries, but WITHOUT him ever trying to hurt her or be nasty towards her - Adrien and Marinette are still the same loving, heroic, kind, but also realistically flawed people they always are, even if I'm upset at Marinette here.

Anyway, the fic is called "Transcient", I'm pretty proud of it!

Everything was fine now, right? She’d assured him that she wasn’t mad about Su-Han knowing his identity, and he sounded like he was feeling better. She’d fixed the problem.

So why wasn’t the lump in her throat disappearing? ------------------------------ Chat's worried about how Su-Han managed to learn his identity. Marinette re-examines her "Obtain Chat Noir's identity" plan.

I'll give you a sample as well, so you have an idea what sort of story this is.

“You screwed up,” Alya told her bluntly.

Marinette groaned. 

Her friend pinched her nose, giving out a long sigh. “Girl, just… just walk me through your thought process here. Please. Why did you think it was a good idea to try to lie and trick your partner into giving up his identity to someone else without him even knowing about it?”

“I mean, I am planning on revealing my identity to him later, so… is it really a lie?” she asked weakly.

Alya glared at her. “At the time you said it you weren’t planning on following through, so yes, that was a lie .”

She looked down, biting her lip. “But if I didn’t, Su-Han was going to take Chat’s Miraculous. I- I can’t lose him, Alya.” Her voice cracked. “I already did once, back in New York, and I- I don’t want to go on being Ladybug without him.”

Alya’s expression softened, but her voice maintained a hard edge. “I get that, but why not just tell Chat about Su-Han’s ultimatum, work it out together? He’s your partner and this is about him, he should have a say on what to do with his own secret identity.”

“But what if he refused?” Marinette asked urgently. “Last time he met Su-Han, he was so upset about the Celestial Guardian’s insistence that I stop being Guardian - that I lose my memories - that he dared him to try and take his Miraculous. We ended up having a pretty tough fight, one that I’d rather not repeat. He said at the time that he’d give up his Miraculous if I asked, but… well… I don’t know whether that would extend to telling Su-Han his secret identity.”

#ask #adrien agreste #miraculous ladybug #ml fandom salt #ml ephemeral #transcient #ml fanfic rec #Though it's my own fic

[lunar-insanity]

So! I’d like to introduce you all to some old characters!

These guys started out as Mario ship children: Luigi/Rosalina and Mario/Peach. They were inspired long ago by Nintendrawer on DA and their own kiddos. And I liked Rosalina far better.

So at first they were sketched as smol babies, and it was only the first two. Then I decided to redraw them as teens [ https://sta.sh/224m0lrisof8?edit=1 ]

I made them their stories, and absolutely inflicted trauma on them xD And I loved them. But over the years I... I didn’t really want them stuck in the Mario universe anymore. So I tried redesigning them.

It... didn’t really go well? I wasn’t happy with my work and I’d only worked on the first two and didn’t finish the second. Basically I tried too hard with them. So I dropped it.

And then years later, I was talking about them again with a friend and felt the urge to revisit them again. And this time?

I got it >:3

Instead of being in the Mario universe, it’s now... More Mario Adjacent? The main bits are a pair of heroes, and a vast land full of varied kingdoms. Just enough changed and kept so they were themselves, and I could keep their stories!

Been doing world building for said world too, came up with stuff for their powers (”Affinities”) and the basis of their world (Built upon the ruins of a past era, so the land is rich with history to be rediscovered)

Anyway, allow me to properly introduce you under the cut!

We’ll start with the older pair!

This is Twyla and Aaron! The Star Twins. Heirs to a semi-technologically advanced kingdom in the stars.

Twyla’s a mechanic and builder enthusiast, with a Magick and Gravity affinity! No she’s not missing an arm. In her and her twin’s major adventure, she damaged it badly and narrowly avoided needing it amputated. The arm isn’t as strong as it used to be, so she built an aid!

Twy is the speedy magic glass cannon of the 4. She’s in an out fast with magick spells, and is VEEERY floaty. Gravity is her bish.

Aaron is the defensive knight, with a Majora Lightning affinity, and a minora Gravity affinity, enabling some floating but not to the level of his older sis. He’s also an Aviator.

Aaron, in their major plot adventure, got Super Paper Mario’d, which was a fun time. Absolutely. Definitely didn’t force his reckless sister to get her act together. Nope.

They are roughly in their early 20s in this ref (not too sure yet of exact ages). At 16, Twyla was far more reckless, impulsive, and carefree (Sure in the knowledge her brother would always catch her) and Aaron far more anxious (terrified his sister will end up in serious danger) and entwined in a co-dependency that really wasn’t healthy for them. Their fire cousin did his best to mitigate but it took an explosive argument, a forced separation, and one hell of a dangerous reality check, for them to start doing better.

Now, Twyla’s reigned in the worst of her tendencies and sometimes her elder nature comes through in her making the serious decisions needed. Aaron’s gotten a grip on his anxiety and works on trusting others with their lives, and now sometimes makes the split second decisions to turn the tide.

Twyla also salvaged her father’s busted big robot (//points to Brobot) and has made it their main mode of transportation aaaaand something to fight with. She calls it Starbot. She drives (Really fast, imagine if you learned how to drive on Rainbow Road) and Aaron flies.

Next up!

Etzio and Cardinale! Royal brothers and heirs to a Nature kingdom that’s had some on and off beef with a growing turtle dragon kingdom. It’s fine though, Etzio is besties with said Kingdom’s heir.

Etzio is an Adventurer! Driven by a passion for history, wanderlust, and a drive to enjoy his youth before taking on the responsibilities as next in line, Etzio is a ball of firey sunshine. And I do mean firey, as his affinity is Majora Fire. Ironic for the son of a Nature affinity, but apparently he took after his father’s gained affinity.

Etzio is their big bruiser. Strong as hell and able to dish it out as much as he takes. And as if he wasn’t strong enough, his cloak is one of invulnerability! A test of character he passed as a wee one granted him this valuable piece of cloth. It didn’t gain the flames until an event when he was 16.

As for Cardinale, he could not be any more different to his family. A family full of heroes and adventurers, and here he is. He’s not an adventurer, he’s not even strong as one. But the residents of his kingdom expected that of him, and it caused for a lot of teenage angst that... Is mostly his fault. And he knows it now that’s he older.

Turns out, keeping quiet and hoping others would notice your inner turmoil and constantly shoving away your brother is an easy way to create a rift between you and your family. Whodda thunk it. (Card was a very stupid teenager)

But enough of that. When that all got cleared up at 15, he came into his own proper. Turns out, he’s just as much as a history buff as his brother (Which Etzio knew) and loves untangling a kingdom’s past and learning the languages they spoke.

And his affinity? Well they didn’t know it for years until an experiment in ice skating showed he was a natural on the ice may have given them a hint. It wasn’t until an adventure took the quartet into the frozen reaches where he was more at home in the cold than ever that they finally discovered it. Yep. An Ice Affinity!  (Even more ironic being born to a Nature affinity) And it also turns out that he has his family’s adventurer reflexes. Just... on the ice.

After years of being shown the door, angst, and a growing rift, a mutual adventure and a setting where Card couldn’t run away from Etzio anymore finally mended the bridges.

(Etz is also a year younger than the quartet and Card a couple years younger than him)

Etzio is a big lovable sweetheart who has learned to really stop trying to mitigate so much and actually confront issues (If pushed harder with Card earlier, they may have avoided a lot of hurt) and Card is his cool self but with a lot more confidence and smarts.

Aaaannyway Imma stop here before it gets too long xD I haven’t stopped creating their stories though, ever since I put them in their new world, I’ve come up with new ones.

Plz talk to me about them ;w;

#my ocs #nothin says character building trauma like losing your brother #Also when i first crafted their stories #i was way more drastic than needed #looking back now im like #holy shit pull that back a bit just do SPM #Fun fact their acronym is ATEC #And it's been bugging me for YEARS #It's missing a god damn Z #I need to make their Z #Or I will go craZy #ATEC is slightly wrong too since Twyla is the eldest here #I have more mario ship children btw #you cannot stop me

[thecatduet422]

Chapter Eight: Evening the Odds

Fandoms: Batman (Arkhamverse), Jessica Jones (TV)

Pairing: Jessica Jones/Jason Todd

Rating: Mature (for language, depictions of violence, and adult themes)

Tags: Slow Burn, Angst, Crossover, Alternate Universe- Canon Divergence, PTSD, Shared Trauma, No Beta

Summary: After escaping Kilgrave, Jessica moves to Gotham and starts her new life as a PI, even starting her own agency- Alias Investigations.

Yeah, criminals keep trying to hire her, and some bat-fetished vigilante keeps sending his kid over to "check-in" on her, but for the most part, Jessica's life is pretty stable.

Until some guy in a hood wants her to follow Bruce Wayne.

Chapters: 8/? (42,524 words)

One Two Three Four Five Six Seven

AO3 LINK

Chapter Eight: Evening the Odds (10.7 k)

What are you up to, old man?

It was a question that possessed him, even with the whole consumption of meetings, weapon checks, and training. Jason couldn't stop thinking about it. He had to figure it out. If the old man was onto him…

Jason shot at his target relentlessly, the sound of the bullets echoing is discontent. It was loud. Agonizing.

Fearful.

But he let the noise drown everything else out as the question started to make its own sound; a static, exactly like a broken TV. It would tighten, squeezing into this piercing pitch that made Jason almost wishing he was the target..

The shooting range was the only place where he felt peace now, as the panic of Batman potentially knowing what he was up to left Jason questioning everything.

And during the night, in the silence where Jason had nothing to fight them with, the questions really sunk in.

Do they have enough tanks? Enough men? Do they have enough tech? Is everything good enough-

His pillow ruffled against his ears as Jason helplessly buried his head under it. Eyes closed, the thoughts could take image now…

Tied down, helpless against the pain as he spat out blood and felt his ribs crack, his bones break. He would look up at Batman, begging for help, begging to be saved.

But Batman wouldn't listen, because he was the one beating him.

Jason couldn't let that happen. Not again. So he decided to strategize, to figure it out, to keep things even.

Jason figured that if Robin was around Jessica, it was because Batman ordered him to. But Jason figured that was more out of a precaution, not as an outright threat.

That's where Jason went wrong.

But at the same time, why? For the most part, Jessica wasn't a threat. Yeah, she was a metahuman and her occupation was unfortunate, but she's not really causing trouble. And even if she was, she wasn't Superman . She's not trained. Jason imagined taking her down wouldn't be too hard. So why be planning something now?

Unless something did happen at the gala…

“Did Bruce see you?”

"Nope. Too busy making speeches and whatnot."

A muffled chuckle broke the silence of his room. 

What a load of horseshit. Of course Bruce would've noticed. Like hell does Dick 'just so happen' to pop up.

Still using your sons to do the dirty work? Well, old tricks never die…

And Jessica decided to talk back, seeing if she could weasel anything out of him. Of course, Jason could've told her it was pointless. No way would Dick give anything up. At least, not to her.

“Nothing. Just that Bruce Wayne apparently loves cars and is asking his CEO for upgrades…"

A throwaway comment to play into Wayne's persona. Only people who knew the real Bruce would catch that Dick was talking about the car.

Jason briefly wondered if it was a throwaway at all. Maybe the old man was asking for a lot of upgrades…

He wondered why…

No. He's getting in his head. Batman didn't know… right?

And just like that, a whole domino effect of paranoia was created, causing Jason to toss and turn in his cot.

I know something you don't know…

Soon enough, nothing could calm him anymore. Dark purple circles rested under his eyes. The weight of his suit was making him feel sluggish. Jason found himself heading to the shooting range more and more, using the sound of his gun to keep him awake, but then it started to make the static in his ears worse.

He just wanted it to stop .

“I think we should move up the Batcave operation.”

An air of surprise hit the conference room. They were only a couple of weeks away from Halloween. Changing the timeline now would be risky.

“What do you mean? We're doing that next week,” Slade told him, as if Jason forgot .

“Yeah, and I want to do it now,” Jason argued, feeling irritated and worried. 

He could feel the room grumble, and Jason could imagine it was somewhere along the lines of, what's one week gonna change?

And what Jason wouldn't give to respond. 

Everything.

“And what, exactly, has brought on this?” Crane questioned, a lift of amusement peaking through his gravelly voice. “Is there something we need to know, Knight?”

Crane started to creep forward, slowly wrapping around the table. “You’ve assured us that we are prepared. In fact, you've made a point to mention it in every meeting. Why now, is that suddenly not the case?” 

He finally stopped in front of Jason, dangerously close.

Crane leaned down, red eyes taking over Jason's vision. Red eyes that flashed into a red smile. Just for a moment.

“What do you know?”

The question was asked softly, but it possessed the entire room.

Jason just shrugged, his mechanical voice coming out relaxed and cocky. “Nothing. Just a feeling.”

And he could see Crane’s eyes trying to pierce through, to find the lie. A tactic Jason was all too familiar with.

After awhile, Crane stood up straight, looking satisfied. “Fine, Knight. Infiltrate the cave if you so wish. But you will be doing it alone, and if you get caught,” his voice dropped into a whisper, “the consequences will be dire.”

Wow. So scary.

But that seemed to be the end of it. With Crane's seal of approval, everyone else seemed to back down, on the outside at least. Jason could still feel the pissed off glances thrown his way (most of them from Slade.) They prompted Jason to lag behind after the meeting, choosing to be the last to leave.

Or at least, he was trying to be.

“I’m not sure what you’re planning, Knight,” Crane said, back willfully turned towards him. Instead, he faced the hologram, where the Cloudburst's blueprint was displayed, zooming in on different aspects of the machinery. “But I trust your judgment remains untainted after Cobblepot’s little accident .” 

And there was something about the way he said it, as if Scarecrow knew about…

He was bluffing.

Jason stood up from his chair. “Just wanna make sure the job’s done right. Night, doc.”

It was then that Scarecrow turned towards him, the hologram's light shining on the hidden side of his face, the demented glow of his eyes popping out from his deathly sullen face.

"Sweet dreams, Knight."

Later, Jason was back in his room and his helmet was off. The ringing in his head had faded away, and the long-relief of silence convinced him not to go to his computer or to his gear, but straight to his cot, finally feeling the willingness to sleep . The type of sleep that brought nothing but mindless, pitch-black nothing.

As his eyes fluttered closed, Jason briefly wondered what Jones was up to, hoping she was laying low like he told her to. 

Then again, hope never got him shit, now did it?

****

Spat-out coffee splattered all over the magazine stand.

“The fuck-?!” Jessica cried, the inside of her nose burning from the spit take. She ignored it and picked up the magazine, cheesy yellow font now murky and limp.

Patsy’s New Mystery Man?!

The photo must've been taken by some pap. It was of Trish walking out of her building, her head down and sunglasses on. She was holding a guy's hand. He had his head down too, but Jessica could still pick out his face, clear as day.

“ Fucking Dick, ” she said his name like a curse, and conveniently for Jessica, it actually was one.

“Hey! You gonna buy that or wha’?” The guy at the stand asked her.

Jessica gave him a dirty look before rummaging through her pocket. She pulled out a wad of dollar bills and threw it at him. She glanced back at the magazine, shock settling into anger.

Jessica huffed arrogantly at the image before rolling it up, tucking it under her arm. “You fucking dick…”

She pulled out her phone and dialed for Trish. It rang once. Twice.

“Hey, it’s Trish. Leave a message.” 

“Trish, please call me .” Jessica begged after the beep. “I know I've been a bitch for the past couple of… months, but you have to listen to me. Do not trust that asshole . I’ll explain everything. I promise. Just… please call me back.”

Then something moved from the corner of eye, causing Jessica to turn her head. All she saw was the fire escape on the building across the street. No one around her seemed to have noticed it.

Fuck , it was probably just a cat or a raccoon or…

Heart racing inside her chest, Jessica continued to head down the street. She kept calling Trish. 

Gotham’s light turned from sky-gray to the fluorescent rainbow of the streets, highlighting all of the shadiness happening around the corners; dealers slumped against buildings began to stretch out, move, become more social. Scantily clad women seemed to get more brave, walking up to stopped cars and tapping on the windows. Cheap looking business men began to buzz through the streets, always with a hand shoved in a pocket. And sprinkled all around were the people just trying to make a living. The waiting staff for the bars and clubs, the twenty-four hour diners, all rushing to catch their train or wave down their taxi with a little more vigor than the regular nine-to-fivers.

Jessica couldn't blame them, not with all of the other crazy bullshit going on.

Normally, Jessica would maneuver around everything, keep her head down, beat the shit out of anyone who tried something. But right now, she was trying to reach Trish. The assholes were starting to unnerve her, their chaotic energy rubbing off, and Jessica had this feeling…

Eyes following her…

Fuck, it was crazy. It really was, but she could feel it; the heat zoning in on her back, prickling her shoulders and neck, tensing her body up like she was on a tightrope…

Jessica…

Was someone really watching her?

Jessica tried to shake it off, but she couldn't. Not even when the rain came in, providing a small shield between her and whoever it was. She put up her hoodie from beneath her jacket and tried to ignore it, to just mentally give them the finger and focus on Trish, but that was proving to be pointless as well when Jessica kept getting the her fucking voicemail.

“Hey, it’s Trish. Leave a mess-” 

Jessica grunted with frustration, wiping off the raindrops from her screen before trying again. She spotted a coffee shop on her right. Jessica ducked inside, and even then, under the warm glow of the café and comforting aroma of coffee, she could feel the gaze through the window, hidden beneath the darkness of the outside world. It was like she was stuck in a horror film, waiting for the jumpscare…

“Voice box full-”

Jessica hung up. She looked around the café. No one was here, not even at the registers.

Jessica looked back over her shoulder, glaring, as if the creep was somehow responsible for the lack of business. 

This is what they want, right? For her to be alone? Well, whatever. Sooner or later, the fucker’s gonna slip up and Jessica’s gonna catch ‘em.

She waltzed up the counter, hoodie up and hands tucked into her pockets. Jessica tried to act aloof while feeling the eyes on her. If she was a believer in the supernatural, she would say it was a ghost; some creepy spirit from Wayne Manor she managed to disturb. It certainly felt like it, but Jessica was realistic, and her main guess was that Bruce Wayne hired his own PI to follow her around. They must be good too, considering how Jessica hasn’t caught them yet…

Where the fuck was the barista?

“Uh… hey?! Can I get some goddamn service please?!” Jessica called over the counter.

A small “oh shit” came from the back, followed by the sound of something falling to the ground.

A young lady came racing up, securing her apron as she panted out, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t hear you come in.”

She seemed sincere, so Jessica let it go. “It’s fine. Just a small black coffee.”

The bell chimed behind her, announcing a new customer. On instinct, Jessica glanced back to see  who it was. A guy, wearing a long brown coat and very nice shoes, armored with a briefcase and a laptop bag.

The barista recognized him before she did.

“Oh, Mr. Drake! How are you?” she asked with a smile.

“Hey, Maddie,” Tim Drake greeted, taking a moment to wipe the bottom of his feet on the welcome mat. “Not much.”

“Long night?” Maddie joked, her little crush blatantly obvious through the googly eyes and the red cheeks.  

Drake shrugged obliviously, heading over to the counter. “I’m used to it.”

Maddie nodded, the dreamy gaze still on her face before she suddenly remembered that Jessica existed. “Oh! Uh, black coffee right?”

Jessica nodded as little as possible, not wanting Drake to notice her.

“Great! That will be four dollars.”

For a small black coffee? Fuck off.

Jessica sighed and rummaged through her pockets before remembering she spent her last bit of cash for the day on the magazine. Great, now she has to make a scene and fish out her card from her bag…

“Here, I got it.” And that’s when Drake walked up to her right, swiping his platinum. He glanced over at her curiously. Jessica tried little to move her head.

“Thanks,” she mumbled under her breath.

“No problem,” he said good naturedly and maybe because he seemed genuine about it, but Jessica thought she was in the clear for a moment.

But then just her fucking luck , when Maddie turned around to make their orders, the kid decided to start a conversation.

He nodded towards the magazine rolled up under her arm. “Good read?”

Jessica shrugged, trying to give off as many ‘ leave me the fuck alone’ vibes as she could. Which was a lot. It seemed to work 'cause the guy shut up for a moment.

“Small black coffee?” Maddie came back up, holding out Jessica's cup.

Jessica took it from her before turning away, starting to head out, but right when she turned around- she heard it. A small, very faint, “knew it.”

Oh. So the asshole was in on it.

Jessica abruptly stopped, slowly turning back around to face Drake. She pulled down her hoodie.

"Knew what?” she asked, her voice booming throughout the café.

He must’ve picked up on it, because Drake scrambled to explain. “O-Oh! Nothing. You just seem like a ‘black coffee’ type of person, is all.”

And then he winced, mentally clocking his own excuse. Jessica spotted the dark circles under his eyes, how his shoulders seemed to slump from fatigue. She could also see smudges of eyeliner.

Was he out partying?

Doesn't matter. The guy was clearly sleep deprived and it was making him slip up.

Jessica put her weight on her hip, questioning him loudly. "Cause I seem like a black coffee type of person?" She took a step towards him. "How?"

"How?"

"How do I seem like a black coffee type of person?"

Come the fuck on! Just say what you really mean, asshole.

But Drake just looked at her up and down, as if to say, because of your everything?

Jessica scoffed, looking away for a moment before staring back at him frankly. “And what the hell do you know about me? You know what, scratch that- how do you know me?"

She got in his face, threatening. "Just tell me, Drake. Who did he hire?"

“Tim! Small black coffee to go!” Maddie chirped out, looking cheerfully strained. Her grip on the coffee cup was tight, and she looked just about ready to chuck it at Jessica.

Drake calmly took the cup, shooting Maddie a small thanks before turning back to Jessica. He held up his own cup while looking at hers, a small smile on his face. “Well, look at that. We have the same coffee order.”

Jessica gave him a dirty look, declaring loudly, "It's a very common order!" 

Then, out of spite, she shoved the magazine right into Drake's face, the wet pages clinging to him.

Drake struggled to get it away, and Jessica allowed herself to feel amusement over the scene before telling him, “Stay away from my family."

She put her hoodie back up before stepping out. Heavy drops of water once again pelted the top of her head, her shoulders. Her feet gave away her anger, stomping hard into any puddle she came across and splashing her legs and anyone else’s walking by. She could still feel it, the eyes following her. It was seriously starting to piss her off. Whenever she waited for a crosswalk, she would look around, trying to catch them, but she still couldn’t find anything.

And everyone else walked around her, completely unbothered by her obvious case of paranoia.

Puddles grew bigger, their reflections mirroring the colors of the city, catching the lights of the buildings, the streets. Until they reached the sky, where a clouded moon hung above.

And lighting the black clouds next to it, the symbol of the Bat. Jessica's seen it many times now, but she tries not to think about it. Batman brought up too many memories, and besides, why give a fuck unless it messed with her work? Then Robin showed up, and then he started popping up regularly. Always while she was working. Always when she wanted to be alone. Always bringing up shit she didn't want to think about. Then Jessica started looking at the symbol with annoyance, wanting to cuss out the asshole who viewed her as a problem . Just because she was a metahuman.

But this time, with the eyes watching her, Jessica wasn’t in the mood to be pissed. At least, not at that . She picked up her pace, fueled by the nervousness soaking into her bones. Surrounded by the lights, and the overall feeling of being watched it… it was starting to freak her out

Where are you going? Get back here, Jessica…

She finally reached her building, boots squeaking with each step as she tracked water in the lobby. On the elevator ride up, Jessica could feel her hands shake. From the cold, or the oncoming feeling of panic, frustration, anger…

Probably all the above. Fuck , she needed a drink. 

But that became the last thing on her mind once Jessica reached her floor. 

Someone was waiting at her door.

Trish was leaning against the wall when Jessica appeared, wrapped safely in her high-end raincoat, umbrella held neatly in her hand. Though, Jessica could see that both items were completely dry, letting her know Trish has been waiting since before the rain.

Jessica sighed with relief, walking over while pulling her keys out. "Would it kill you to answer your phone?"

"Not so fun, is it?" Trish quipped, crossing her arms as she waited for Jessica to let her in.

Jessica nodded in acknowledgment before turning the key. The door swung open, and Jessica stepped inside to turn the light on, scaring away any ghosts or shadows that might've been lurking in the corners. Jessica headed in, making her way towards her desk when suddenly she slid.

"The fuck?" Jessica asked, startled, catching herself on the desk. She looked down.

There was water on the floor.

Was… was someone in her apartment?

She looked up, catching Trish's eye before storming through her place, roughly going through every hiding spot she could think of; the closets, under her bed, behind the shower curtain.

"Jess!" Trish called from the hallway. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Someone was in here!" Jessica barked, heading back towards the living room, ignoring the panicked look on Trish's face as she walked past.

What the hell would they want?

Shit. Her desk.

Jessica rushed over and began pulling drawers. Thank fuck she actually listened to Jason. The burner phone was hidden away in a vent, but Jessica had other shit hidden away. Personal shit. Pictures of her family, of other cases , the newsletter about Rita…

Pictures of Luke.

Fuuuuck.

"Jess-" Trish cut herself off, seeing how Jessica was just rummaging through everything. "What makes you think someone broke in?"

"There's water on the floor," Jessica told her, continuing to look through everything. She couldn't find anything missing.

"... You mean the water you tracked in?"

Jessica stopped, looking up at Trish in annoyance. "No. The water in my apartment before I walked in."

Trish smartly didn't argue, knowing it would only piss Jessica off more. Instead, she opted for reason. "And is anything missing?"

"No, I-" Jessica paused, eyesight catching on the beeper, still in its place in the first drawer. She mentally cursed herself for not hiding that as well, but then…

Wouldn't they have taken it?

Trish seemed to have sensed her doubt because she put her hands on her hips, as if waiting for Jessica to fess up.

Bullshit. Jessica knew someone was here.

She rushed over to the couch, maneuvering around Trish so she could get to it. She started taking off the cushions, letting them fall to the floor as she looked for a bug or anything . She looked underneath it, on the sides...

"Jess, you're destroying your own apartment," Trish told her, seriously concerned.

"If the asshole didn't take anything, then that means they left something behind," Jessica determined, putting the cushions back once she was sure the couch was clear. "Help me look."

But Trish stayed put as Jessica rushed over to the lamp, checking out the inside of the shade. She started feeling the end table it was sitting on, hands running underneath the edges.

Trish still didn't move, just twisted her face into a look Jessica knew by heart. Worry. "Jess… I was standing outside the door for almost an hour."

Jessica ignored her, moving back to her desk. Did she check underneath it? She couldn't remember. Maybe the bottom of the drawers?

"If someone broke in I would've heard them," Trish tried to convince her. "A-And if they came by before the rain, then there wouldn't be water on the floor, right?"

Jessica sighed, then stood up.

"Uh, they could've just been really quiet?" she mocked.

She headed over to the boarded up fireplace, feeling the mantle.

"Okay," Trish conceded, crossing her arms. "Then what about light? They would need a flashlight to see, right?"

Jessica paused as she thought about it. "Unless they had night goggles or some other stupid shit." Then she went back to searching, heading over to the windows, moving to pull up the shades-

"Jess!" Trish grabbed her shoulder, turned her around. "You need to stop ." Trish's other hand did the same, holding Jessica in place. "I'm really worried about you."

"For fucks sake, Trish!" Jessica shoved her away. "I'm a PI! Someone was in here. I know it!" She headed towards the kitchen.

Trish followed. "Are you in some kind of trouble? Did you make a deal with a mob boss or something?"

Jessica started searching the table, the chairs. Trish just watched her, leaning against the wall. "Okay, what about Dick then? You called him an asshole?"

"'Cause he is one!" Jessica called out from her spot on the floor.

Trish shrugged. "Seems like a good guy to me. What makes you think he's an asshole?"

"Besides the fact that he tried to get into my pants at the gala, and then he's on the front cover with my sister?!" Jessica asked sarcastically.

Trish winced. "Okay. That is kind of sloppy."

Jess sighed and stood up, empty-handed.

"I mean, that's it though?" Trish asked. "You said not to trust him. You need to give me more than that, Jess."

Jessica looked back at Trish, guilt ripping into her. After all of the missed calls, all of the attempts at pushing Trish away, she was still here. She refused to leave. Jessica didn’t deserve that type of dedication, and yet she had it.

She would be a dumbass to throw it away, but she couldn't talk here.

“Fine,” Jessica sighed, grabbing a hold of Trish to lead her to the bathroom. She shut the door behind them, turning around to run the shower and the sink.

As the sound of running water filled the room, steam slowly wafting in, Trish gave her a look, but thankfully, didn't argue.

Jessica leaned against the sink, facing Trish, who was standing in front of the door. She thought about it for a moment, then asked, defeated, “You ever heard of Jason Todd?”

Trish looked confused for a moment, trying to place the name. “Uh, no? But the name sounds familiar?”

“He’s one of Bruce Wayne’s sons,” Jessica told her.

Trish’s eyebrows shot up, remembering now. “Oh, that’s right . He’s the middle one. Didn’t he die in a plane crash or something?”

“Skiing accident."

"Okay…" Trish nodded carefully. "So what does he have to do with this?" 

Jessica winced before confiding in her. "I think he’s alive.” She shook her head. “No, I know he’s alive. I just need some goddamn proof.”

To her credit, Trish didn’t call her lazy. At least, not yet. Instead, she asked curiously, “What makes you think he’s alive?”

Jessica sighed, knowing this was where the real crazy bullshit starts. “One of my clients hired me to follow Bruce Wayne. His name is Jason.”

Trish crossed her arms, silent. She let it sink in for a moment before saying frankly, “Jess, that doesn’t mean anything.”

“I know ,” Jessica argued. “But the guy’s sketchy as hell! Plus, he has a ton of money, and he’s from East End, same as Todd.”

“And does he look like him?”

“I don’t know," Jessica whined. “That’s another thing; there’s no picture of Jason Todd anywhere on the internet. At least, anywhere I can find legally.”

Trish didn't respond, and her body language told Jessica that she still wasn't convinced.

"He has a scar," Jessica added quietly. "And it’s not one you find in a skiing accident, Trish. He looks… he looks like he’s been branded or something.”

“Branded?” Trish asked. “Like, human trafficking?”

Jessica sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe. If so, he fought like hell to get out.”

Gun cocked, ready to shoot. Face filled with rage…

“And…” said Trish, breaking Jessica from the memory. “You think Bruce Wayne is behind this?”

“Who else?" Jessica asked. “Who else has the money and resources to pull something like that off and get away with it?”

“But why?” 

“'Cause he's a rich guy with a very traumatic childhood?" Jessica suggested. "He has to be fucked up.”

Trish shook her own head, trying to make sense of it. “But Bruce Wayne is huge in the philanthropy scene. He puts a ton of money into the city. There are even rumors that he funds Batman-”

“I know. But that’s exactly my point; his claws are deep into Gotham, and with his shiny reputation? No one would think to look into it!”

"Vickie Vale would look into it," Trish mumbled, thinking of her competition. She sighed. “I don’t know, Jess. I’ve been to a couple of his events. He seems genuine.”

“Really?” Jessica asked, astonished. “You think that weirdo is genuine? He’s probably Gotham’s Patrick Bateman!”

Was she really the only one who could see it? From the Hogarth's office all the way to the gala, Jessica could smell the bullshit a mile away, and his behavior in the office…

Serious. Scary . Dangerous.

That was the real Wayne.

“And so you think he’s after you?” Trish asked.

Jessica nodded, still picturing that night, the glare on Wayne's face, how the shadows seemed to latch onto him like a magnet. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because…” Jessica rolled her eyes, knowing how bad it was going to sound bad. “Jason told me he would.”

Trish's eyebrows shot up as she crossed her arms. Silence for a moment, then, “Wowww, Jess…”

Jessica groaned. “I know how it sounds, alright?”

“Oh, you do?” Trish asked skeptically. “‘Cause it sounds to me that this guy is a con man, and you’re falling for it.”

“No, I'm not."

Trish gestured around the bathroom, now completely filled with steam.

Jessica begrudgingly turned off the water. “Happy?”

“No.” Trish said honestly. “Jess, I’m… I’m worried for you.” She tightened her arms, leaning back against the door. “I mean, you quit seeing your therapist, you’ve been drinking, you moved away to Gotham , one of the most dangerous places in-”

“Okay okay!” Jessica interrupted, feeling on the verge of a migraine. “I get it. Just, spare me the lecture, please .”

Trish looked at her sincerely, pausing for a moment before adding quietly. “You haven’t even told me why . Why did you move?”

A lump ran down Jess’ throat, the pictures of Luke burning her brain.

When it was clear Jessica wasn’t going to answer, Trish gave up. “I have to go. Dick and I are heading back to Blüdhaven tonight.”

Jessica followed Trish out of the bathroom, feeling the cool air of the rest of her apartment. “Oh, so now you’re traveling together? How cute.”

“It’s a coincidence,” Trish turned back around, stopping in the living room. “We happen to be heading back at the same time.”

“'Coincidence' my ass!” Jessica snapped. “How am I the one being played? You just met the guy!"

"It's not like that," Trish defended. "Dick's just a friend. A friend who understands some things."

Jessica scoffed. "Yeah, like having a fucked-up sibling?"

Trish sighed, too tired to argue. She just adjusted the purse strap on her shoulder. “Bye, Jess. Hope you don’t get scammed." 

Then Trish turned around and headed out the door, shutting it behind her.

Jessica stood there for a moment, letting the quiet and the dark sink in before turning around, boots shuffling against the floor.

She wasn't crazy.

Jessica walked around her desk, grabbing the fresh bottle of Jack resting there. Back to the classics.

She slumped down in her chair and twisted off the cap. Jessica took a swig and swung around, facing the wall.

Clutching the bottle like a lifeline, her eyes strayed to the windows, thunder rumbling softly on the other side.

Jessica squinted curiously at it, the feeling of the eyes speaking to her in the outside light peeking through the shades. A hesitating hand hovered in the air, and then she thought, fuck it .

She pulled down a flap and looked out. Her apartment was at the level right where the light and the dark met, the multi-colored street lights below fading up into the night, revealing the bricks and last upper windows of the building across from her, and then nothing.

Pointless.

Then lightning flashed , striking a bolt through the sky, matched by a rumble of thunder just as fierce and sudden as its partner. The building across from her illuminated in full scale, just for a second.

"Jesus Christ!" Jessica reeled back in terror, the whiskey in the bottle swishing along with her. Heart thumping wildly in her chest, she found herself struggling to breathe.

That was…

Philip holding up a toy-

Jessica flinched, pushing the image away. 

That was-

Philip, dressed up for Halloween-

No.

Jessica lunged forward, pulling up the shades by the string. She looked again, another bolt of lightning coming through, smaller, but enough.

And nothing.

With a shaking hand, Jessica pulled the string again. The shades zipped down, landing on the window sill with a loud whack.  

The other hand, shaking just as much as its twin, brought the bottle back to her lips, taking a slow but large gulp of booze, letting it run down and burn her back to life.

The memory came back clearly then, and Jessica couldn't stop it.

Philip wearing the mask and the cape, holding up his pumpkin basket for candy. He would run down the driveway, screaming, "I AM THE NIGHT!"

"More like the Dork Knight," Jessica grumbled before yelling at him to knock it off so they could go .

Fuck, Trish was right. She was just being paranoid. A result of repressed memories and emotions finally spilling out, making her see shit.

That wasn't Batman.

****

“All units. We gotta code ten in Chinatown. Possible 2-11.”

Any second now.

Jason waited patiently in the shadows, bracing himself for the loudness that was sure to come. 

And it did. The heavy vroom of the car’s engine roared into the night sky, screeching as it made a turn. 

He could always count on Batman.

Once the sounds of the car died out, Jason jumped out to read the system.

His scanner told him it's been updated since he was last here. Gee, now it’ll take him a whole five seconds to break in. Whatever shall he do.

Jason snorted and did the work, disengaging the sensors. He walked down the path as silently as he could, but the cave picked up the sound of his boots regardless, small thumps bouncing off the walls, rustling the bats that slept above. That just proved that he had to take his time, to be careful . One small disturbance can catch Alfred's attention and then, Batman's.

He could feel the heat of his own breath from inside the helmet, a complete contrast from the cold, damp air of the cave that sinked into his hands, the gloves doing little to save them. The small twittering of the bats following the wind, and Jason carried this small sense of peace with him, letting his motor memory kick in and lead the way. 

After all, old habits never die.

He reached the Batcave, stepping onto the catwalks up above. The bats were more skittish here, having to deal with more noise disturbance and light, but they didn't bother Jason as he observed. 

Nothing but the small hum of the Batcomputer. No Alfred.

Jason ziplined down, until he was close enough to jump to the floor. Once he landed, he made a beeline for the computer, fighting the urge to look around. He only had a few minutes before Lucius' fail-safe kicked in.

Jason inserted the flash drive and started to download everything on the Batmobile. It wasn't a long download at all, and Jason even took the time to skim through some stuff.

Okay, Bruce. Jason had to hand it to you; this was a bit different from what he expected. It looked like Bruce was beefing up the car for heavy attacks, giving it the firepower of a tank but keeping its mobility…

Smart. Jason will make sure to do the same then.

He was about to exit out of the system when something caught his eye.

The Knightfall Protocol?

Jason clicked on it, but it came up empty.

Too secretive to have a file, but important enough to have listed under 'commands'? Oh, that's definitely something.

What are you up to, Wayne?

Jason sighed, deciding to let it go. For now. He ejected the flash drive and speedily went to the security logs. Once he stepped out of the cave, the sensors would engage again and boom- it was like he was never here. Erased from the world once again. Just how everybody liked it.

He turned around, helpless to his wandering eyes as they caught onto the things he missed before. The foundations were still the same. The Batcomputer was where it always was, as was the med area, and the parking spot for the car, the jet. The tech area expanded a bit, its table bigger than Jason remembered and with more blueprints pinned up on the board. He wondered briefly if that was due to the New Robin taking on his own ideas.

Jason remembered Bruce rejecting all of his.

He went to walk away before a flash of red hit his peripherals. Jason almost ignored it, but then he caught the yellow of the cape.

What?

Jason squinted, zooming in on his scanner.

How did Bruce get it back?

And before Jason realized it, he was standing right in front of the glass, seeing it all up close; the chewed up mask, the slashes on the arm sleeves, the bullet hole in the chest.

Bang.

Jason thought he was going to die that night… Come to think of it, he thought he was going to die every night…

What the fuck was this supposed to be? A show of remembrance? Of what, his failure as a sidekick?

He wanted to smash-

The heavy sound of a door creaked through the cave.

Shit. Alfred.

Jason ziplined up, anger forgotten as Alfred tiptoed down the stairs, and to Jason’s horror, immediately headed to the computer. 

There must've been an alert about the sensors.

Fuck.

Jason crouched down, hiding up in the catwalk. It's fine. This is fine. All he had to do was back away towards the exit.

Jason started to inch back. He could see Alfred typing on the computer below, and Jason could feel the incoming terror that was him being found out. It urged him to run, to just book it out of here and don't look back.

The bats twittered harmlessly above him.

No. He had to do this cautiously, slow. Jason took a careful step back, then another, his vision of Alfred slipping away.

"Alfred," Bruce's voice boomed through the cave, causing Jason to almost jolt up in fear. The bats above him shrieked, ruffling their wings.

Shit, shit, shit.

Jason remained crouched, holding his position in an attempt to keep them calm.

It worked. The bats settled down as the conversation continued.

"Sir," Alfred greeted. "I take it there's more trouble than usual tonight?"

"Hardly. The robbery in Chinatown was handled within seconds. The upgrades on the car have been more than beneficial."

"Well, I'm sure Mister Fox will be pleased to hear that. And, dare I ask, how has our 'friend' been tonight?"

"On edge. I think she knows someone's following her."

Are they talking about Jones?

Jason tilted his head.

"Hm. Master Drake did mention a run-in with her earlier. According to him, Miss Jones seemed pretty, on edge, to say the least."

"I saw. The photo seemed to have done the trick. Tim was right. The sister is the key."

They're going after her sister?

"I'm switching tactics over to surveillance. Oracle is tracking Jones through CCTV's, and I managed to plant a bug in the apartment while she was out."

"Probably for the best, sir. You don't want to waste all of your time following her."

Oh. That's not good.

"The only downside is Jones herself. She walked in and immediately caught on that someone was there."

"Getting sloppy, sir?"

"Well, it's not like I have a gadget that can stop the rain."

"Pity. Well, perhaps that should be the next project," Alfred quipped dryly. "Any updates on the panic button?"

"No. Jessica hasn't taken it out since the gala."

"Hm, someone who doesn't want Batman's help? That's a rarity."

"Or, she somehow knew we could track her with it…"

Oops.

Jason felt himself smirk a little.

"We need to keep in mind we're dealing with another detective. The usual tactics may not work…"

He could hear the frustration in the old man's voice. 

Jones not as easy as you thought she'd be?

If Wayne thought she was annoying, wait till Halloween.

"Don't worry, sir. We'll figure out who hired her," Alfred assured him.

Jason began to creep away, before he overstayed his welcome.

Besides, he had to get that bug before Jessica opened her damn mouth.

****

She was sitting in her chair, doing nothing, her heart rate incredibly fast.

She's scared.

Jason continued to watch her from outside, using his scanners to see. He couldn't call her without possibly being heard on the bug, and if he tried to catch her attention at the window, Jessica could freak out and scream.

And if he went in as a civilian, there's a chance Oracle could pick him up on the cams…

The bright blue outline of Jessica moved to bring a bottle to her lips.

And she's been drinking…

Shattering glass right next to his head-

Whiskey breath in his face, screaming about how they tried to sell him off, how he wasn't even good enough for that-

Jason hasn't seen drinking like that since he was a kid.

Jason couldn't make the first move. He had to wait. So he stayed there, perched on the roof across from her, waiting for her to get her ass up and look out the window.

He was totally going to be late for his flight…

And as if Jones could sense his irritation, she annoyingly stayed put, not getting up until the cold wet of the rain was thoroughly seeping through his suit. 

When she finally got up, Jason had to blink a couple of times to see, his eyes feeling dry from the scanners. As much as he was annoyed, Jason was genuinely surprised that Jessica was able to stand at all. He knew she was a drinker, but this…

Jessica swayed slightly before heading to the kitchen.

Jason followed her, swinging to the other side of her building as Jessica moved around in her kitchen. He was able to sneak down to a firescape across the street, facing a window in front of her sink. It looked like she was getting a glass of water.

Good.

Jessica went to fill the glass before her gaze naturally strayed up. Then she froze, heart rate accelerating once again. She saw him.

Don't worry. He comes in peace.

Jason proved it by giving her a wave.

Jessica tilted her head, but otherwise didn't move. Jason nodded his head to the side, telling her he was going back around. He's not sure if Jessica understood, but she started to follow when Jason swung to the otherside, back to the office.

When Jessica got there, looking out from the window he was facing, Jason pointed at it and motioned for her to open it.

Jessica hesitated, not sure if she should. 

Come on, Jones.

Finally, she pried it open and stepped back.

Jason shot off his grappling hook, latching onto the window’s ledge. He let the wire zip away and carry him over. When he got close enough, he pulled himself up and jumped through. He landed in the office silently, years of practice kicking in with ease.

Jessica stood in front of him, fists clenched at her sides, chest heaving with anxiety, waiting to see what the Strange Metal Man would do, ready to fight if need be.

Jason held up a finger to where his mouth would be, signaling for her to be quiet. He slowly crouched down to the floor and placed a hand under her office chair.

Gotcha.

Jason pinched the bug between his fingers and brought it up to show her. Jessica’s eyes widened in shock. She looked ready to berate herself.

She forgot to look there, didn't she?

Jessica exhaled heavily through her nose, looking pissed. When she looked back at him, she arched an eyebrow curiously.

Jason imagined it was something along the lines of, and who the fuck are you?

And yet Jason could see the slight anticipation underneath, as if she already had a guess.

Jason didn't answer, silently opening a drawer instead. He dropped the bug inside and carefully closed it shut.

The mechanical voice filled the room softly, capturing the sound of his relief. "There. We should be okay now."

The question still burned on Jessica's face, and Jason had a feeling she wasn't going to say anything until he answered…

Fuck, how did this become so messy? Jason's talked his way out of shit many times before, but explaining this? What could he even say? 'Hey! I know what this looks like, but I promise I'm a sane individual totally not planning on taking over the city. Please don't go to GCPD!'

Maybe he can bullshit- say he's keeping an eye out for Batman. Jessica already suspects that she's being followed. If Jason played it right, maybe it could come out convincing…

But then, there's always the chance Jessica figures it all out. She already had his name. She already knew he had history with Batman. It certainly wouldn't take rocket science to figure out Batman's identity now, and that's the type of leverage Jason really wants to keep to himself.

"Are we really going to do this?"

Jason sighed with defeat. The look of impatience on Jessica's face told him that his time was up.

The sound of air escaping from the helmet announced his surrender. Jason took off the helmet, expecting a lash of questions and accusations that he would have to maneuver like the Matrix.

But Jessica just looked entirely unimpressed. 

" This is your costume?"

Uh…

"Yeah," Jason shot back defensively.

Jessica looked him up and down, then snorted. "You look like an army commissioned dildo."

"Gee, thanks," Jason shot back, feeling insulted as he rested the helmet on the desk. "Only millions of dollars worth of the latest technology and combat wear, but yeah. Let's be reduced to a sex toy."

He walked over to Jessica, leaning in to sneak the bottle of booze out of her hand before marching over to the couch. Jason  plopped himself down, uncaring that he was drenched. Jason took a swig from the bottle, tossing his head to gulp it down, eyes and throat burning from his lack of practice.

"Hence, army commissioned ," Jessica retorted, sitting down next to him. She sighed, giving him a tired look before snatching the bottle back. “If you expect me to play hostess, forget it. I’m not in a very hospitable mood.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Jason commented, watching guiltily as Jessica took the final swig.

She was just about to get water before he dropped in.

It was silent for a moment, the both of them just absorbing the other’s company. Jessica decided to be the first to break it.

"So, are you planning to fight crime or something?" she asked slowly.

Jason shrugged. "You never know who you're gonna run into…"

Jessica looked at him suspiciously. "Really? Like who?"

Her eyes strayed down to the patches of armor on the shoulders and chest before catching the red on the stomach.

The symbol of the militia.

Jason clasped his hands, resting them on his stomach in a show of casualness. As soon as he did, Jessica's eyes traveled back up, meeting him curiously.

The smart thing to do would be to tell her nothing, but Jason couldn't do that either, not unless he wants her running to GCPD.

What would Bruce do?   

And then Jason figured it out. He'd let Jessica come up with her own answers, feed into her own theories about him. Play into whatever act that was already there.

"You already know," Jason told her.

Jessica rolled her eyes, annoyed. "You mean Bruce Wayne?" she guessed.

Jason thought for a moment, curious. "How much do you know about Bruce Wayne?"

Jessica huffed. "You asked me this question before, remember?"

"Yeah, but I mean now that you've gotten to talk to him."

"Now ?" Jessica echoed. She thought about it then shrugged. "He's exactly how I expected him to be. Same as before. Billionaire playboy with too much time on his hands." She rested her chin in her palm. "Respectable gentleman on the outside, skeevy asshole on the inside."

"Skeevy asshole?" Jason questioned, slightly amused by her choice of words.

Jessica shrugged again.  "There's something fucked up about him, okay? He tries to hide it but, being a fuck up myself, I can see it. The dude's hiding something..."

Jessica looked back over to him, waiting for him to say something.

But Jason just gave her a grim smile. A silent confirmation that she was right.

"You know what I'm talking about, don't you?" Jessica guessed.

"Why do you think I hired you?"

Jessica sighed, leaning back against the couch to stare up at the ceiling. "Why am I the only one playing twenty questions here? Why won't you answer any of mine for once?"

"You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to." Jason copied her, leaning back against the couch himself. "I will say, you're right about everything so far." 

Jessica glanced back at him, sullenly silent for a moment before asking tentatively, "He gave you the scar didn't he?"

The red hot poker burning his flesh, just barely aware of the blood-curdling scream chasing after it…

Not exactly. But he might as well have.

Jason clenched his teeth, swallowing down the intensity of the memory.

And again, Jessica took it as a sign that she was right.

"Why? Did he try to sell-" But Jessica cut herself off, as if she was rethinking the question.

Jason picked up on it though. "Did he try to sell me?"

Jessica just shamefully looked back at him, eyes wide as if she was scared.

Scared that the answer was 'yes'?

The act that was already there. That was it. Bruce Wayne sold Jason off to, who? The mob or something? Funny enough, that exact shit did almost happen to him, but with his birth parents.

"So you know who I am?" Jason asked instead, unable to smother the strain in his voice.

Jessica pursed her lips, noting that it was another question. Still, she indulged him. "You're Jason Todd, his son." 

Jason didn't verbally confirm. He just raised his eyebrows in response, as if to say, And?

Jessica sighed, sinking further into the couch. "And I'm guessing you've been wronged. Many times." Her eyes strayed to the scar. "And I'm also guessing it was some seriously fucked up shit."

Thrown you away, like an unwanted puppy…

"Yup," Jason finally remarked.

"And he told the world you were dead so no one would catch onto him."

"Just like Bats and that new kid of his."

"Even got a new son and everything," Jason confirmed.

"And that's why you hired me." Jessica's eyes shined bright with validation. "You want revenge."

"Not revenge, no." Jason couldn't help correcting her here. "Justice."

"Justice?" Jessica asked dubiously. "Justice is going to GCPD, not to me."

"You know how powerful my dad is," Jason defended.

Here . He could catch her here.

"He even has Batman under his thumb."

Jessica reeled away, letting out a sharp breath. "Shit."

She stood up abruptly, running a hand through her hair. "He really was here. Fuck, I have the fucking Batman coming after me!"

"Hey, hey, hey," Jason stood up, trying to reassure her. "It's fine. I know how to deal with him, trust me. "

"Trust you?!" Jessica snapped. "Why should I? You're the one who dragged me into this shit!"

Jason went to grab her arm. "Jessica, listen. I-"

But Jessica pierced him with a death glare, warning him off. So Jason backed away instead.

He struggled to speak, unsure of what to say, but knowing he needed to calm her down, convince her to stick with him.

"When I found out Bruce pronounced me dead… I didn't believe it," Jason confessed honestly. "Bruce was my father . Not the asshole that tried to sell me off, but him-" An old feeling of hurt managed to creep up and make him croak. Jason watched Jessica, desperately searching to see if he won her over yet, but her face was unreadable. 

So he went on. "For the first time in my life, I felt accepted. That I had a place here. I…"

Grief clogged his throat, and Jason tried to speak through it. He really did. But it was coating his throat so much that Jason almost felt like he was drowning, unable to scream as water filled his lungs, rendering him helpless. 

"My own father…" he tried, but his voice died out.

Jason cleared his throat again. Harshly. His eyes burned from the intensity of it, but Jason managed to do it. He tried speaking again, having to take breaths in between to keep it together.  "During everything I… I still thought that Bruce would come for me. Save me. Get me out … But he never did. That's when… That's when I realized… He didn't care." 

Anger pinched his face, pricking his eyes, but Jason commanded to keep it in. For the sanctity of his mission. For now.

He let it turn into passion, determination. "That's when I decided that he wouldn't get away with it. Couldn't. You have to-" his voice cracked again. Fuck.  

"You have to believe me," he finished.

Jessica's face was still blank, and Jason couldn't help but feel how stupid he looked right now. She's going to run to GCPD. Jason's going to have to stop her. Do what he should've done before, but… 

Jessica stepped up, now inches away. She didn't move to comfort him or touch him, and neither did Jason want that. He didn't want to feel like he was broken. He was more than that.

But Jessica's eyes still dug deep, their own shine speaking with, what? Sympathy? Understanding? Whatever it was, it remained safely locked away in a stare. The boundaries were still up.

Nothing else will be broken tonight.

"You're not useless," she finally told him. "You're human. A complex, breathing organism capable of emotion and pain and a whole bunch of other shit."

Jason huffed in amusement, feeling the tide of emotion still receding.

"No one should be treated like that. You aren't some thing for people to own." 

And Jessica sounded so sure of it, so confident that Jason couldn't help himself from sinking into that energy, feeling his own dipleat.

Jessica nodded. "Okay, Todd. I'm with you. So, how do we deal with Batman?"

It worked?

Jason looked back at her quizzically.

"You know how to fight him, right?" Jessica asked. "That's what the suit is for?"

Jason nodded, coming to his senses. "Yeah. I do."

"Good. He's the biggest problem." Jessica broke the air between them, going back towards her desk to lean against the edge. "And then there's Dick."

"Dick?" Jason asked.

"He's after my sister."

Oh, right. Jason remembered the conversation in the Batcave.

"Dick was supposed to chase after me, remember?" Jessica reminded him. "Not my sister."

He glanced down, noticing the grip Jessica had on her arms, nails digging into her skin…

“He's not gonna hurt her," Jason assured her. “Bruce probably sent Dick out to see what she knows, but that's it. He won't do anything else. Once Dick figures out she doesn't know anything, he'll let her be."

Jessica nodded worriedly. "Yeah, I just… She's my family."

"I get it. I do, but trust me. She'll be fine."

Jessica’s eyes suddenly narrowed. “You say that a lot. Trust me ."

“Because you can. I'm the only one who really knows Bruce, right? You gotta believe in that."

Jessica sighed, adjusting so she could sit on the desk fully. "Okay, so what do we do about the other problem?"

"Batman?"

"Yup. The fucking Caped Crusade himself." Jessica drawled tiredly.

"Well, we've got his bug, and we know he's monitoring you throughout the city…"

"Oh, we do? " Jessica asked sarcastically.

"Oh, yeah. We do." Jason dragged out the guest chair, sat down. He took out the flash drive from his pocket. "We also have this. "

Jessica looked at it curiously. "What the hell is that?"

"Insurance that we're one step ahead." Jason put the flash drive back in his pocket.

Jessica snorted. "Doesn't feel like it."

"I know, but we are." He almost said it again, the urge to say those words almost rising up.

Trust me.

Instead, Jason analyzed. "Right now, his attention is on you. He's sure you're up to something, or at least, is working for someone who is."

"Funny enough, he's right," said Jessica.

Jason's mouth twitched up in amusement. Bruce was right. He was always right. 

"So let's ease his suspicions," Jason suggested.

"What do you mean?"

"We'll make you the sheep. You keep him distracted while I work behind the scenes."

"Behind the scenes?" Jessica asked skeptically. "What the hell does that mean?"

"In order to take down Bruce, we need to take down what makes him powerful. His company. Batman. His family. All of these things I know how to get to."

"And so you wanna work on that while I play the victim?" Jessica asked cautiously. 

Jason nodded.

"No thanks."

Jason sighed. "I don't want you to be, but at this point it's the only way. For now, you'll be the bad guy. Unless you can come up with another way?"

Jessica looked down. She couldn't. 

Finally, she said, "Let me think about it."

"Fine," Jason groaned, moving to stand. "But we don't have a lot of time. It's us versus him now."

Jessica watched as Jason made his way towards the window, feeling that something wasn't right.

Wayne made sense. He was weird and suspicious, and Jessica had a feeling about him from the moment they met.

But Batman… Why work for Wayne? Were the rumors about WayneTech true?

"Hey, you good?"

Jessica twisted around, finding Jason in front of the window, about to leave. His helmet was back on, but Jessica guessed he was concerned.

"Yeah," she told him. "Just been a long day."

Jason gave her a small nod, understanding. "Drink some water. Get some rest. You need it."

Jessica winced. "Gee, thanks."

"No, I-" Jason cut himself off, trying to explain. "I just meant take care of yourself, yeah?"

Jessica looked back at him thoughtfully. Even through the helmet and the voice filter, she could tell he was genuine. "Yeah. You too."

Jason turned away, back towards the window.  “You’re probably not gonna he-”

“-hear from you, I got it,” Jessica cut him off. “Funny enough, I still do.”

Sitting on the ledge, Jason looked back one more time, helmet glowing under the night. 

“Good riddance then, right?” he joked before jumping out.

Jessica waited a moment before tentatively shutting it. Of course, when she looked out she saw no sign of him anywhere. She pulled the blinds down.

Yeah. Good riddance.

Her phone buzzed, blinking on with a text. Jessica looked at the notification.

Trish: 11:38 p.m

You’re right.

Followed by another.

Trish: 11:38 p.m

I’m sorry.

And then an attachment.

Jessica immediately unlocked her phone and clicked on it. 

It was a picture of a picture, the frame sticking out, letting Jessica know Trish found this in someone’s place. But she put that aside when she saw who was in it; Bruce Wayne, his hand on the shoulder of a boy. Jason, carefree and unscarred. They both smiled at the camera, openly.

Just looking at it, Jessica would never be able to tell that anything sinister was about to happen between them. Jason looked happy, and Wayne looked… carefree.

They looked like a regular father and son duo. So when exactly did it go wrong?

She wanted to find out.

****

After the long trip back to base, thinking about everything that happened, the last thing Jason wanted to deal with was Crane.

But alas, the good doctor was waiting for him at the landing.

Fucking great.

Jason walked up to him, not saying anything, and Crane waited until the plane engine died down to do so. 

“Arkham Knight. I trust your trip was a success?”

“You tell me." Jason spoke through the helmet, the filter hiding how tired he really was. Jason pulled out the flash drive and tossed it at Scarecrow. He didn't need it anymore. Jason already looked at it on the plane (and cleaned it up of any 'junk' the others didn’t need to know about.)

Jason began to walk away, towards his room.

“Knight,” Crane called after him.

Jason sluggishly swung around in response, only to find Crane posed, arms folded behind his back. “We have a problem.”

Fucking great.

They wordlessly headed to the control room, Crane slithering in front of him. 

“As you know, your information about Barbara Gorden has been extremely useful in preparing our efforts for Halloween. We’ve been able to analyze Batman’s informant and how she operates.”

Crane made Babs sound like a test subject.

Jason's stomach twisted inside him. Scarecrow shouldn’t know about Oracle. It felt wrong. The devotion to keep Batman’s secrets were still ingrained in hus skull, but after Arkham, Jason convinced himself to be more, lenient. 

And if Jason truly wanted to save Oracle, then he needed to rat her out. Just this once. She'll understand. Besides, they had a deal. Crane won't lay a hand on her.

So Jason nodded instead, letting Crane talk.

“Our hackers have been able to get into all of the CCTVs in Gotham, using Miss Gordan's own signal for cover.”

They reached the door. As Crane went to turn the knob, he looked back at Jason tauntingly, “We found something troubling.”

Oh shit.

They got to the room, Crane closing the door softly behind him. Jason was surprised to find two of his men standing at attention, facing him. The hologram on the table was turned on, showing footage of…

Yup. Just like Jason suspected…

Crane walked forward, hands still behind his back as his eyes glued to the image of Jessica. “It appears Ms. Jones is still alive.”

Jason’s hand remained calm and ready, discreetly hovering over his holster. His finger twitched, just slightly, brushing against the cool metal of his gun.

He tried to deny it. “I shot her."

“And yet she’s still alive.”

“I shot her in the head ,” Jason continued, seething with the lie. If he was right, thinking his men were loyal to him, Jason needed to keep acting innocent.

Crane just glanced back at Jason mysteriously.

Then, he moved, bringing up a hand to show the remote. Crane clicked it, and an old medical file popped up, replacing Jessica's face.

What caught Jason's eye was the logo on top.

Luthor Hospital?

“It seems there is an explanation for that," said Crane.

What?

Jason eyed Crane skeptically, but the doctor seemed to be absorbed with the file.

“Our new friend in Metropolis was able to find this for us when Deathstroke visited...”

Jason winced. Ah, so he wasn’t completely off the hook. Crane found out he's been passing off duties to Slade, but compared to everything else, that was nothing.

Jason stepped forward, reading the file through the scanners in his helmet. He could see Jessica's name, clear as day.

How did he not see this?

Jason zoomed in on the date listed. Sixteen years ago…

“The car crash happened in Metropolis?” Jason asked. But it was in the Blüdhaven newspaper…

“It turns out the good doctors at Luthor Hospital were focusing on some promising new medical tactics. That was, before the Daily Planet came out with an article denouncing it."

Crane scowled. "The fools…" 

He turned back towards Jason. “It appears that Ms. Jones was one of the last patients before the program shutdown. Hence, the coverup."

Another click with the hand, and Crane changed the hologram again. Sequences of DNA, RNA, doctors notes. They were all coming up so quickly, Jason didn’t have time to read them.

Crane spelled it out for him. “Super strength, flight… I wonder where Luthor got the inspiration…” 

Crane leaned in, telling Jason in a hushed whisper, "We are dealing with a metahuman. It is a high possibility her abilities saved her from your, dedicated wrath.”

The hairs on the back of Jason's neck stand up.

What was that supposed to mean?

“Luckily for us, I've reviewed her medical files, and have concluded that she's not immune to gas. My new strain of fear toxin should do the trick."

Crane shoved something into his chest. Jason grabbed onto it and looked down. 

A canister.

Crane smirked. “So the same mistake shouldn't happen twice…" He turned away, heading towards the door. “And I will need a very detailed retelling of Miss Jones’ reaction… for scientific reasons, of course.”

Fuck.

Jason felt the weight of the canister in his hand, letting it drop to his side.

How the hell was he going to get out of this?

#catduet writes #aka knight #crossover fic #jessica jones fic #jason todd fic #jessica jones x jason todd #batman fic #plot fic #marvel x dc fic

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Watch reader get some cleverness once she breaks through all the trauma and finagle her way into that will//

Now that the mom and Loki are married, what power does the mom have if reader does get some cleverness? Miss Marlena was literally begging Loki to to let her suck it and he was grossed out by her. I just feel like there could be a changing power dynamic because what can the mom even do if Loki decided not to hide it in front her? I mean, does he have really any incentive to do so?

Nope the marriage is the prize, mom was accept anything she can bc she has her house and her money. If anything, she'll go on holidays year round when she can't stand it anymore. Better yet, Loki will leave her behind and fly out with reader to somewhere fabulous.

Mom doesn't really know that she's give up every ounce of leverage once reader takes a bit of control over her place in the fucked up scenario