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#ooh the angst
spicycinnabun · 2 months
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“Friends don’t kiss each other,” Eddie said, breathing the word harshly between them. His fists clenched at his sides. He saw Steve’s eyes widen, his head twitching like he was just barely concealing the urge to look around and make sure nobody had heard that. Eddie barrelled on. It was a courtesy that he was even lowering his voice. He didn’t have to. “If you want to keep on pretending that’s all we are, you go right ahead, Steve. But I won’t be.”
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stylesparker · 1 year
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take my hand and I’ll take yours too
PAIRING: Steve Harrington x Bestfriend!Reader
WORD COUNT: 4.6k
WARNINGS: fem!reader, friends to lovers, so much mutual pining, more angst than fluff, MAJOR hurt/comfort, graphic character death—through nightmares (no one actually dies)
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His breathing is so quiet it makes you think he’s not even breathing at all. The only tell that he’s still here is the slow rise and fall of his chest—something you only noticed once you tried to find it.
Despite being in the safety of Steve’s bed—and him by your side—your fear still keeps you up in the middle of the night. Every time you toss and turn, you’re afraid it’ll wake him up, but you think he’s definitely out like a rock. It would probably take an explosion to wake him up right now.
The two of you had a long day. So did the kids, but being the designated babysitters, you were the ones who had the right to collapse as soon as you got in the house.
After… everything, it’s been a silent agreement between you and Steve that you’d stay with him at his house for the time being. The bed sharing had not been planned, but Steve had insisted. He claimed having someone near helped him sleep better, but you knew he was doing it for you.
He’s not the one with the nightmares.
But tonight it seems, he is.
You didn’t catch it at first; you had rolled away with your back facing him, so the mumbling fell on deaf ears. It was only a matter of seconds later when you heard him sit up out of bed with a fearful gasp and sobs racking his chest. You had turned over in a heartbeat, making eye contact with Steve, and your heart immediately shattering to pieces.
You never want to see that heartbroken look on his face ever again.
“Steve..?” You ask gently. His tears haven’t stopped, the hand that’s gripping your thigh grips tighter, almost like he’s making sure you’re real.
You’re alive.
His movement is slow, but you get the hint pretty quickly. You wrap your arms around him and pull him into your chest, holding him tight against you like you’ll never let go. His own arms had wrapped around your middle, squeezing every couple of seconds. He breathes quick, his chest pounding rapidly against yours, almost making you afraid he’s gonna give himself a heart attack.
“Babe, you’re alright, it’s alright..” you whisper quietly, so not to disturb him. His tears have already stopped, but you can tell he’s still afraid. His eyes close at the feeling of your hand scratching his head.
“You’re okay,” he mumbles softly, digging his head further into your neck. It makes you want to cry.
He doesn’t deserve this.
You give him a couple of extra moments until his breathing has slowed down and he’s not in quite such a panic anymore.
“You wanna talk?” Your voice is soft, making his insides melt at the sound of it. You don’t realize how much you’ve already helped him, you just try to copy what he does for you.
He shakes his head, “I’m okay, really.”
You don’t believe him, but you don’t question him further. You just hold each other in the dark.
The room is silent until he whispers, “You weren’t sleeping were you.”
Your silence is his answer.
The kids thinks there’s something wrong with Steve.
Robin knows there’s something wrong with you.
Since they know Robin probably spends the most time with the two of you, they go to her. They aren’t expecting the answer Robin gives them.
“I think..” she groans, “god, I feel so bad for telling you guys this—I think Y/N is having nightmares.���
They’re faces drop open, they’re hearts shattering just a little bit.
“Wait, what?” Dustin asks sadly. He exchanges a glance with Max and Lucas.
“Shit,” Lucas says, “We thought-”
Max shoves him in the shoulder.
Dustin squints at the two of them, obviously knowing what he was going to say, but not wanting to bring it up right now. He looks back to a guilty Robin.
“Steve, too?”
She shrugs, “I’m not sure, Y/N hasn’t said anything about him, but he said hers have been pretty bad. They’ve been staying at his house for the past couple weeks.”
“It’s probably like us,” Max says, “don’t want to sleep alone anymore…”
The other two nod their heads in agreement.
“Look, when Y/N comes in for her shift I’ll ask her how they’ve been doing. I don’t think I’ll get an answer, but I’ll try. ‘Kay?”
They trudge out the door, and Robin sighs. She hopes they don’t tell you she told them.
It’s about a half hour later she hears the chime of the bell indicating a customer. When she looks, it’s you, as expected.
With a lack of better terms, you look horrible.
Your hair looks nice, as always, but you look the most sleep deprived then you ever have. She can see the dark circles under your eyes from a mile away. You give her a tight lipped smile and head to the back to drop your bag off. Robin tenses in preparation.
“Hey, cupcake, how’ve you been?”
She hasn’t seen you in almost two days. Maybe she should’ve tried calling an extra couple of times.
You slide your hands across the front of your shirt and wave, coming up next to her at the desk.
You nod unconvincingly, “Good. You?”
“Good!” She nods with a smile. It’s comforting. But you’re not stupid.
Your fake smile slips from your face and the sadness appears quickly in your eyes.
“You can ask.”
Robin’s facade also slips, and she steps closer to you, dropping a hand on one shoulder.
“I won’t,” she shakes her head, “but you need to talk to me.” You gulp. “You look like shit.”
You laugh, which brings a smile to her face. But the split second of happiness is quickly gone when you remember you have to tell her.
“It’s Steve.”
Robin thinks she already knows.
“Shit,” she huffs, “so now you’re both losing sleep.”
“I don’t know how to help him,” your eyes well with tears, and Robin holds you closer, “he’s so much better a-at helping me when I have them, I-I don’t know how I’m gonna get him through this-”
Robin turns more stern than you’ve ever seen her, “Y/N, this isn’t all on you. I love you guys, but you shitheads are stubborn as hell. You guys need to accept more help. I’ve been at Nancy’s this past week, even Eddie has stopped by and seen the kids. Those kiddos would love to have you guys around again, they’re missing you.”
You wipe your tears, and nod your head in understanding.
“I know..” you mumble. “We just don’t want to scare them.”
“I thinks it’s scaring them even more now that you’re not around.”
You sigh, taking a deep breath.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“We’ll come by tonight,” you nod, “have all the kids been there?”
“All of ‘em. Jane has been prone to eating more eggos than ever.”
You chuckle at the thought of her.
Robin wants to ask if there’s a reason the two of you have holed up together apart from everyone else, but she thinks better of it. She probably knows why better than you do.
You hope maybe sleeping in the same house as everyone will help you guys a bit, ease your nerves.
“I’ll tell Steve when I get home.”
Robin catches it before you do.
Home.
The gravel crunches loudly under the tires of Steve’s car. You get bumped a little bit as he pulls into the Wheeler’s driveway, but it goes unnoticed, you’re a little out of it.
Steve’s been able to tell the whole ride there. His gaze had been glancing between you and the road the whole time.
“You ready?” He grabs your hand, rubbing it softly.
“Yeah,” you reassure, “just… nervous.”
He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.
“What if-” you look to him anxiously.
“We just won’t sleep in the same room as them so one of us doesn’t wake them up. Nancy will understand,” he assures you, “don’t worry.”
You try not to think about it as you pull your hand out of his and swing open the door. As you walk up the pavement, you wonder if the butterflies in your stomach are from nervousness or just him.
The kids are so happy to see you, maybe more so Steve, but you can’t seem to care. Dustin practically knocks him down when he gets two feet inside the door, and Jane is quick to run over and give you a tight hug. Max follows soon after, putting her arms around the both of you in a sweet manner.
“What, have you gone soft on me, Madmax?”
You hear a quiet mumble of never, which makes you giggle and hug the two of them tighter. When they let go, Steve is huffing and puffing to shove the little twerp off of him, and Lucas is pulling at his arm to give him a turn. The other two boys are waiting to greet you patiently.
“Hey, y/n/n,” Mike says softly. Will rushes forward to give you a hug before he pulls away again, but you’re glad you got anything at all.
“Hey Mikey,” you tease, ruffling his hair much to his disappointment while you lean down and give Will a swift kiss on the forehead. “Where’s your sister?”
“In the kitchen with Jonathan. Robin and Eddie aren’t here yet.”
Dustin takes you by surprise when he collides with your backside and squeezes the shit out of you.
“Never leave us again,” he mutters. You twist around and pat him on the head like a puppy.
“We’ve never left you, kiddo,” you tell him softly. You catch Steve’s eye and he’s watching you guys with fondness. Your guys attention gets pulled when you hear loud laughter from the kitchen. Steve walks by your side as you enter the room, catching Nancy in an embrace with her boyfriend.
“Hey lovebirds,” you call. Their heads turn and they give each other a suspicious side eye.
“Hey yourselves,” Nancy says. She giggles and rushes to you. “It’s nice to see you.”
“You too, Nance,” Steve says back.
Before you get a chance to talk to Jonathan, Nancy pulls you into her living room around the corner where you’re out of sight from the others.
“I figured you guys didn’t want to stay in the basement so I got a room ready for you if you want to put your stuff in there.”
“Oh, cool, yeah, that’s fine,” you reply. “I was gonna ask you anyway, I don’t want to bother the kids while they’re sleeping.”
She arches an eyebrow.
“Oh, god- Nance!” You act like your gagging, “seriously?”
“What? You implied it.”
“I did not!”
“Okay, so then what did you mean,” she crosses her arms with a smirk on her face.
You huff, peeking around the corner to make sure no one was listening. “We’ve been… having nightmares lately.”
Her arms drop and she looks at you comfortingly.
“Babe, we have too.”
“You have?”
“Yeah, we all have. It hasn’t been easy. If you guys need anything just let me know, I know how bad they can get. Max had a pretty bad one last night.”
You sigh, “Yeah, so did Steve.”
She lets you go with a soft smile, just in time when Steve rounds the corner.
“Hey, they’re going downstairs if you wanna go,” he says it with a smile.
“Yeah! I’m right behind you.”
During the rest of the evening, you have multiple moments when you realize you haven’t laughed or had this much fun in a long while. The fun had really started when the last two remaining friends of the party had shown up, and finally everyone was in one room again, together. It took you too long to realize how fast these people had become a family to you, and maybe things would have gotten better sooner if you hadn’t pulled away. Everything just feels better, lighter, like you don’t have the weight of the world on your shoulders and aren’t watching every step you take.
It’s easy to let go when Steve has an arm around your shoulder and Robin sits back in between your legs; when Dustin is trying to shove a warm muffin down Eddie’s throat and Jane has her head laying gently in Will’s lap; when Nancy is tugging back the skirt Mike tried to steal and Lucas is making heart eyes at Max. Even when life feels so hard, it also feels like it’s the easiest thing to get through when you have so many things that can bring joy.
You could tell around 10 o’clock Jane, Will, and Robin were getting pretty tired. The others weren’t, but they knew it was probably best if everyone went down together. Eddie was already zonked out on the couch so Nancy threw a fluffy green blanket over him to keep him comfortable. Jonathan was already leading Jane and Will upstairs to get their pillows when Mike had taken notice and followed quickly behind. Everyone else either had a room upstairs or their sleeping arrangements already made on the floor.
Lucas had sadly, but also willingly, given up his chair bed for Max, which she had thanked him with a kiss on the cheek. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the kid so flustered.
“Night guys,” Dustin loudly whispers as Nancy shut the lights off.
“Night, Dustin,” you whisper back, much more quietly than he did, but you get a nice toothy grin in return. Steve ruffles his hair before he leads you to the stairs, which gets him a loud complaint and a smack on his calf. Robin squeezes your hand before going off in her own direction, and the boy attached to your side leads you to the room made for the both of you.
It wasn’t exactly a disappointment to find only one bed. For either of you.
“You can use the bathroom first,” he offers, standing with his hands in his pockets at the end of the bed.
“Thanks,” you reply softly, taking your clothes to change into in the bathroom. You try to clean up quickly, but it’s about a half hour later that you emerge and you find Steve, cleaned up, and snuggled in on the right side of the bed.
When he looks at you, you can’t tell what he’s thinking. But his hair looks freshly cleaned and it doesn’t look like he has a shirt on, so you don’t dwell on it for too long. With the darkness flooded in the room, and the only source of light coming from the bathroom and the moon, you hope he can’t tell how anxious you look.
He can, but he doesn’t mention it. He didn’t want to ruin the comfortable silence that fell upon the two of you. When you came out of the bathroom looking fresh with happiness and a towel on your head, he thought he couldn’t be looking at anything cuter. He just guilty wished the big t-shirt that adorned your torso would just ride up your thighs an inch more so he could see the softness of them.
He tears his eyes away just as you tell him, “I’m glad I don’t have to shove you off my side of the bed tonight.” You flop on your stomach somehow gently onto the bed next to him, scooting yourself up just so your head ghosts over the skin of his thighs underneath the blankets. He wishes he hadn’t gotten under the covers.
You have a shy grin adorning your features when you add, “Sorry I took so long.”
Steve waves it off, “No big deal, I got to steal Robin’s shower. She wasn’t too happy with me, though.” He feels accomplished when it makes you laugh. Your head drops onto his thighs for a moment, and he curses when you lift it far too soon.
It’s quiet again until you lift yourself off the bed to take your towel off. He takes this moment to watch you until you shut the light off and walk back over. You face him when you get under the covers, and he shifts himself so his arm is under his head and he can actually face you too.
He beams when your foot ghosts near his. He boldly reaches out to tuck your hair behind your ear, which earns him a slight blush.
“Sleep,” he murmurs.
You shake your head softly, “Not yet.”
Now that his hair looks more dry it flops when he shifts again, and gives you questioning glance. You hate that he looks so pretty.
“What do ya’ wanna talk about then?” He asks.
You shrug. You hope you don’t upset him with what you’re going to ask next.
“What was your nightmare about, Steve?”
He could tell it took you a minute to ask that question. He knows he shouldn’t lie, so he takes a deep breath.
“Us.”
“Us?”
“You.”
Your lips pout, and they look so soft, all he wants to do is rub his thumb over them.
“I scared you?”
“No, honey,” he sighs, “I was scared for you.”
Your mouth makes an ‘o’ shape and you don’t say anything else. You look like you feel bad and he wishes you didn’t.
He continues, “Do you remember.. when we were in that stolen van, and I was telling you about that dream I had?”
You nod. “The six little nuggets.”
He laughs, “Yeah.. that.”
“Do you still wish for that?”
He shrugs, “I think so. Maybe not six, but I think I want a big family.” He takes a moment to add, “I think it’s because I didn’t really have one growing up.”
Your eyes soften incredibly more than they already are and your hand rests on top of his, “I get that.”
He debates telling you the real reason he brought this up, but decides against it. It would be too much.
You can see the conflict in his eyes, and take it for what you think it is.
“You don’t have to tell me about the dream, Stevie.”
His eyes find yours again and he has to fight not to kiss you on the spot. Your voice makes his heart beat so fast he feels it might fly out of his chest into your open hands.
“We didn’t make it out,” he starts. He grabs hold of your hand for comfort. You run your hand over his to keep him going. “I don’t know... if I did, but you didn’t.”
He notices you holding your breath.
“We had just got Eddie, and we were all running, and we were all screaming at each other to keep going, we were almost there. But... I felt your hand slip out of mine and suddenly you were gone,” he clears his throat, “I could see you getting higher in the sky, like three bats had gotten you, and you were screaming my name over and over, and I couldn’t get to you. One minute I was chasing after you and the next...” he blows air out of his mouth, “You were on the ground bleeding. I had you in my arms and you weren’t moving, it didn’t even look like you were breathing. When you woke, you just stared at me, you held my hand, and you comforted me.”
You made sure the small tear that fell out of your eye was quickly wiped away before he could notice it.
“No matter how much I screamed, no matter how many times I told you not to close your eyes, your breathing stopped and your eyes went blank. You were cold in my arms, and suddenly nothing else mattered. I couldn’t move.”
Steve doesn’t realize you’re moving until your head is an inch away from his, and your warm hand was placed on his cheek.
“I’m here,” you say softly. He closes his eyes and tries to push away the memory of the dream, leaning forward that extra inch to touch his forehead against yours. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, just... stay with me.”
“Okay.”
...
“Steve? Steve!” Your breathing is harsh, you can’t see, and none of the others are around. The others had separated from the two of you; gone on their bikes and rode away to find the gate. It didn’t matter this felt unfamiliar, this was real, it had to be.
Each step you took made a creak on the stairs, causing you to cringe and stop every time, afraid something would dart out of the shadows and take you away before you could locate Steve. You called his name one more time, but again, there was no answer.
Sweat beaded against your brow, and you held your knife closer to your chest. You didn’t risk taking your jacket off to try and lead off some heat, you knew your eyes had to stay sharp. The walls were still covered in the vines you remembered, or whatever they were. They moved and made weird noises that had you catching your breath and looking into the other room.
The floorboards beneath your feet creaked again, but this time, you heard a scream. A loud, painful scream that vibrated through your body, from your head to your toes, and had you perking up, on edge.
That was Steve.
You were running up the rest of the stairs in an instant, almost tripping over your own feet to get to him.
“STEVE! STEVE! I’m here! I’M HERE!” You almost wish you hadn’t turned the corner at the top of the steps.
There, hanging in mid air, was Steve. You didn’t know where Vecna was, but there you could see your boy with his head upturned toward the ceiling, no movements being made.
“Shit, shit, shit, oh my god-” you fumbled around with your jacket to find the tape for him, but it wasn’t in the pocket you left it in. What were you gonna do if you didn’t have his music?
“Steve, baby, hear me. Listen to my voice. Steve!” You couldn’t even reach his feet, he was just too high for you to grab a foot to try and pull him down. When you thought, maybe, just maybe something was working, your greatest horror played out in front of you.
You could barely look as his bones started cracking, the sound filling your ears and making you remember what it felt like to lose the man you loved. He fell to the ground in an instant, making no signs of life.
You dropped to your knees in next to him, not having the ability to stop the uncontrollable sobs that leave your chest in the moments after.
You can see him, there, in the corner of your vision, lingering, waiting.
For you.
“GO! Leave!” You scream at the top your lungs, falling on top of Steve’s body.
“Y/N.” He says. You can’t hear him, you won’t.
“Y/N!” This can’t be it.
“Y/N!” You’re gasping and clawing at anything around you, your tears clouding anything you might be able to see.
“Steve! STEVE!”
You feel arms holding you so tight around your middle, trying to wrangle your arms in the process.
You can’t really tell what you’re doing, you just feel wet tears streaming down your face and a huge pressure on your chest.
“Baby, breath. You need to breath. C’mon.”
That’s... Steve?
Your hands go to your head, trying to cover your ears, but whoever has you won’t have it. You’re trying to get out of their hold, but you don’t really know why. It’s so hard to grasp at anything.
“Y/N, listen to me. It’s me, baby, it’s Steve.”
You take a shuttering breath, and suddenly, you’re no longer in the attic of that house. You’re in a bed, and there’s legs in front of you that aren’t yours. You lean your head back and it hits a chest, you don’t really feel yourself moving anymore.
“That’s it, c’mon, come back to me. You’re okay.”
The voice is so soothing. It’s gentle, it’s comforting, and it’s definitely Steve.
“Steve?” Your voice sounds so broken, so tired, it makes his tears fall faster. The sound of your screaming had woken him up, his fight or flight immediately sending him into over drive. The fear that had flooded through him when he thought something was happening to you, he didn’t know what to think when all of a sudden you started hitting him.
You weren’t awake yet.
You scratched, and you hit, and you clawed at his arms, but he was stronger than you and was able to pin them to your sides. He was able to get you into his lap and hold you tight against his chest, hoping the feeling of his skin and the pressure he was putting on your chest would calm you down. It took a minute but he realized you were finally starting to get a grip when your hands had landed softly on his thighs. The Steve that had left your lips made him hug you tighter. He didn’t dare let go until he knew you weren’t gonna hurt yourself anymore.
The rocking helped, you sort of felt like a baby, but god did it help. You could open your eyes and see your surroundings. Your breathing had finally slowed, and most of the panic was gone.
“Shhh, you’re okay, you’re okay, just breathe.”
You held his hands, holding onto them like they were a lifeline. You whimpered when he let go to wipe your tears, and you quickly turned in his hold to look at his face.
Steve knew it was bad but your eyes, they were so red, you looked so wrecked, he knew this one had to have been the worst one you’ve ever had. When you took notice of the marks on his arms, you started crying again.
“Oh my god, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-”
“It’s alright, it’s alright, you didn’t hurt me, I’m okay.” He grabbed your face and started kissing it all over, blocking you from seeing what you had done and hopefully distracting you in the process. When you tried to pull away he didn’t let you, only tugged on you until you fell into him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. One hand cradled the back of your head while the other rubbed up and down soothingly on your back; your whimpers had died down to only a few.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” you repeated it so many times he didn’t know if it would stop.
“Shhh, it’s okay. Just listen to my voice, baby.”
You slowly started to feel better; you didn’t know how long it had been, but it had to have been awhile before you lifted your head to look at the boy in front of you. You hated how worried he looked.
He must know. He had to.
You told him anyway.
“You died.” He nodded his head and wiped your tears.
“I’m fine.”
“You can’t die, Steve,” You begged firmly. “I wouldn’t survive.”
Maybe it was you, maybe it was him, but both of you knew you needed it and neither one of you was gonna stop it.
The kiss was brutal, all teeth and desperation. There was a fire burning in your chest and now Steve was burning with you. You clung to each other as if some magnetic force was going to try and pull you away from each other. You knew nothing would separate you from him right now, not this instant. He pulled away first, and calmed you down when you tried to chase the trace of his lips.
“Nothing could ever take me away from you, my love,” he whispers.
“Then kiss me like we’re never going to be apart again,” your whisper back is desperate, and he knows it.
You don’t have to tell him again.
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yanaleese · 1 month
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Karma with a reader obsessed with Dior and what not?
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Honestly, Karma couldn't give jack shit about MC being obsessed with Dior. It's actually in his favor, since he gets a ton of money from his unethical job. Plus, his mother is obsessed with designer brands so he has a good eye. So - prepare yourself with a billion accessories, dresses and/or suits, and vacation days! He will happily spoil his Xaxi to pieces <33333.
However, just make sure you're within your boundaries. To Karma, your gifts are earned through sheer hard work. Failure to put in the work, or become dependent on his gifts will result in him giving more sentimental gifts. And if you fail to see the meaning in those (which shows why he invests in you in the first place) then you get no gifts at all.
Another thing he also strongly despises is your indecisiveness. More specifically, it's not really you being doubtful of purchases, but rather what you focus on most. If you become a lover of money and things, you will lose his affection really quick. It will come to a point where Karma will force you to choose between him and your things. And if you choose that over him, you won't be getting a torture or a kidnapping session - you'll be getting a swift kill.
Because you're not working with a lovestruck Karma. Neither are you working with a Karma who's desperate for your love.
Instead, you're working with a Karma who's lost everything:
You.
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arkham-guard-dp-au · 1 year
Note
... Casually throws more fuel to the fire
Residents of Arkham learn about Danny and his "death day" in one way or another. (Coincidentally, it aligns with the same day 2nd Robin died cause of Joker here)
What caused an uproar was when Danny slipped about how during his "death day", he's in quite a bit (read: a lot) of pain and he thinks it might be because of having no grave. Which- oh boy... BATMAN DIDN'T GIVE YOU A GRAVE!?
"Wait wait- what do you mean you don't have a grave!?"
"... I mean... Kinda hard to have a proper funeral of sorts when there wasn't a body left to have one and all. Plus, why would Batman give me one, anyways?"
Everyone's looking at Joker and later Batman. They're both in hot shit. Mainly Joker atm since Batman ain't in Arkham for them to target- at least not until they do a massive breakout just to solely torment him later on.
Like you said, it's mostly general concensus at this point that Death Day is painful. Physically and/or mentally, the amount depends on how much angst the author wants to give.
That being said, you'd think that would mean Danny would take that day off. But we all know he is also the kind of self-sacrificing idiot that would so cover a co-worker's shift that day after being litterly begged too, thanks to understaffing. That or he just forgot but I'm pretty sure it would be hard to forget after the first few times and Jazz would probably call him like before, during, and after his death day because it is just traumatic all around for Danny.
Furthermore, he probably doesn't want to call and talk to Sam or Tucker about it because it makes them feel guilty and he doesn't want to bug them well they are off doing collage things or whatever. Even if his friends are 100% willing to be there for him.
As for the whole inmates knowing about it. Idk if Danny just let it slip or something, perhaps made a joke thinking that no one would believe it anyways. Completely forgetting this is Gotham and weirder things had happened. Though now there is a debate between the inmates on whether Danny was resuscitated, brought back through superhero shenanigans, or is just a zombie or something.
One particularly brave and/or foolish inmate just straight up asks Fenton if he eats brains. He gets a confused no in response, so most tend to cross zombie off the list after that.
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Part 5 - dare not preach
Dp x DC AU: Regent!Jazz & Vigilante!Jazz
Masterlist Part 4
"And If I had the answers I'd have written them out so I could tell you what to do and what this thing is about. But all I've ever learned comes second-hand and I dare not preach what I don't understand." -Make A Move by Icon For Hire
//////////////////////
Content warning: briefly implied child abuse (Vlad is not a good guy by any definition),
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Time was lost in between bouts of consciousness, flashes of pretty eyes and fire hair,  soft muttering and gentle caresses against his skin soothing his aches. 
Jason was caught between heaven and hell, wracked with agony behind his ribs one moment and healed with persistent warmth the next, a never ending cycle. 
He wanted to scream. 
One bout of semi-clarity was of some citrus concoction on his tongue, gentle murmurs of a woman by his ear before she kissed him again, forced something down his throat again. 
He both loved and hated that woman. She felt familiar in a way that made his bat-honed paranoia rear its ugly head, the instinct to survive in his gut a heavy weight, but she brought him peace in the same moment she could damn him. 
He caught his name once, his real name, spoken by her as he swallowed dutifully, a spike of want in his heart almost a welcome change from the pain by that point. 
————————————————
Jazz spoke with the Lady frequently as the Red Hood, Jason, healed in her bed. 
The elder spirit, regal in mannerisms and aura, demanded the Regent to aid this one vigilante, this one knight and Jazz had finally figured out why. 
It was so obvious when she had all the puzzle pieces, the depth of occult knowledge both in her brain and at her disposal should have been her first resource used to dig deeper, but she’d allowed Danny and Frostbite to assume (and let her assume) that the Red Hood was an awakened Liminal who was recovering from corrupted Ecto in his system. 
The Red Hood had been Jason Todd-Wayne, the second Robin- bright light of Gotham- and he’d been murdered by the Joker. 
Unburied in my soil. 
Jazz groaned in self-contempt as she paced the graveyard of Gotham’s Crime Alley. It was decrepit and uncared for, not like the higher class cemetery of Gotham proper where the Rich and powerful are buried. She what’s spent the better part of three days researching her new bedmate roommate once he’d been stabilized enough to be on a consistent schedule for ecto-infusion. He’d be unlikely to regain full consciousness for another month or so, but he would recover fully. 
That was, if he understood what he had become in his near-fatal collapse. 
(Thanks to Jazz and her rash actions.) 
The Lady had been cryptic when speaking of Red Hood at first, but with his recovery and development of a strong proto-core Lady Gotham was eager to aid the Regent in making her once Robin adjust to a world-changing consequence once again. 
(At least this time he would have support.) 
Not only was Jason a Liminal with an indisputable death-claim, he had been a- a Revenant whose continued existence was a mind boggling happenstance of circumstance that was one in a infinite chance of ever happening again. 
The Lady claimed him. The Lady gave a bit of herself to resurrect her bright Light, the one who shouldn’t have died so young, not while he deserved happiness for the hope he brought to so many. 
(Damn it all.)
He clawed himself out of his own casket, to be found by Talia Al Ghul of all people… then survive the Lazarus Pits in body, with only Pit Madness to show for it? 
(It was a callous way to think about it, but Jazz knew that it had also given him his freedom in many ways, that Jason wouldn’t have if he was still just a Revenant.) 
(Did the Al Ghul know what she had found that night in dreary Gotham?) 
(Was she aware she had given Jason Todd a third chance at life- however much of one being death-claimed by Lady Gotham could be called a life.) 
The Lady, wistful once assured in the Regent’s anger having passed, swore an oath that Jason would never be forced to be a Knight again. 
(Jazz reveled in the understanding that Batman, Bruce Wayne, was destined to be Gotham Knight for his mortal lifetime- possibly beyond.) 
(Had he sworn his fealty by accident in his grief? Or had his donning that ridiculous gimmick been enough of a bind to tie his soul to the Lady?)
(Regardless, for his inaction, Jazz privately reveled in the satisfaction of the true consequences of his choices.) 
Jazz, who’d been pacing a strict line in the uneven row of headstones, came to a rest at the grave of the once-Revenant who now lay in her bed. 
Jason Todd 
He’d been only a year older than her little brother when he’d been murdered by the Joker, buried under a name that was half-complete. He was a Wayne in life, but not in death? How hypocritical of the old bat, to not give him the courtesy of giving him the hyphenated last name if he wasn’t going to bury him in the Wayne cemetery. 
What would it have been like if Danny had a grave, complete with a stone and inscription? 
(The portal was his grave. He’d died there and the house was his graveyard.) 
Would it have been up to Jazz to choose the words to describe her little light, the brightest star in the galaxy, the one reason she had for getting up in the morning… or would her parents have cremated him and put him on a shelf to prevent a corpse from ‘piloting’ his corpse? 
(Jazz still had nightmares about Danny’s death scream. The portal ripping him apart in the same moment it fused him back together.) 
(Into something different, something more.) 
(He was her little brother, the same one who she spent her birthday money on to get those ridiculous glow-in-the-dark stars.) 
(They’d spent hours forming constellations on his ceiling.) 
How does one paraphrase a life? 
Would Jazz start with his name, his preferred name, or with his date of birth? 
Would she put down ‘dearest brother’ or ‘missed’, ‘Be at peace’? 
No. Jazz knew she’d give the most important pieces of what made her little brother the brightest star in the sky- 
Danny, per aspera ad Astra.
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Danny had an unconventional memorial tucked away in the remnants of the Fenton lab, underneath the debris of what was once a strange machine to a world unseen. 
The portal was built into the wall with ample access space in the rear for intended maintenance, though it was not required once the portal was completed and functional. 
Jazz left flowers for Danny in that maintenance space three days after she first saw his transformation, yellow tulips, though she didn’t know the impact the action would have later in life. 
Once a month, Jazz would return to replace the dried flowers, dust away the cobwebs, close the door, rinse and repeat. 
Christmas was particularly complicated in the Fenton household, but the first year of Danny’s half-life was the worst Jazz could recall up to that point. 
It wasn’t the eerie lack of ghost attacks (thanks to her not knowing of the Truce then), or the winter storm being harsher than any other Amity Park had faced in previous years… No, it was that Danny had died, while nothing and everything changed. 
Jack and Maddie still screamed their arguments about Santa Claus, loud and proud for the world to be privy to. 
Jazz had extra tutoring to take up for Christmas presents. 
Danny… Danny still had to fight a ghost. 
Ghostwriter wasn’t a malicious ghost in nature, far from it in fact, but he was never a fan of her little brother. 
Jazz overheard Danny tell his friends about his ‘storybook adventure’ and she had to sleep in the access space for the night, just so she didn’t wake anyone with her crying. 
It wasn’t right. 
That thought repeated on a never-ending loop in her head as she tucked her growing limbs into the cramped space, eyes shut tight and the darkness shrouding her in safety. 
(That had been the first nightmare of her own death to come, fingers frantically searching for a pulse as she woke in the dark.) 
Perhaps she should have never left that darkness. 
Because then the anger that had been building inside of her would never have been unshackled after the release of the tyrant king. 
Jazz had been a patient girl her entire life. It was a necessary evil when raised by scientists to follow in their footsteps, though she had no intention to make her life into any imitation of her negligent parents, she learned those lessons at the knee of Maddie Fenton, who had given her life to the pursuit of ecto-science. 
(Built a very strange machine to a world unseen.)
When Jazz failed to achieve something, she observed and struck when the opportunity presented it. That’s how she’d survived ghost attacks for so long, escpecially when it was her own dinner- that and the ingrained knowledge to strike hard and quick when it was required. A paradox of a hunter and a hunted, but that was Jasmine Fenton’s upbringing in a nutshell. 
Jasmine knew Vladimir Masters was a bigger predator than she was capable of hunting as a young girl. 
(Jazz was just a little girl when Vlad became obsessed with her and her mom.)
(Only the dead truly knew what an older man could do to someone so much smaller.)
It was a waiting game that morphed as she grew, bones sturdy and teeth sharper as Ecto-contamination finally settled into her molecules- Death-claimed, Liminality. Vlad was a false halfa, just as he was a false friend to her parents and a false business man, but as long as he stayed out of her way in caring for her little brother than she would not destroy him. 
(She was a patient hunter.)
Pariah Dark was the final crack. 
(It needed somewhere to go, all that anger, all that rage.)
Jazz had been patrolling the outer limits of the ghost shield now that Amity was returned to the Living Realm, anxiety in her gut as Danny had yet to show from his battle against the tyrant king. 
He had obviously won if they were all safe, right? The mech suit would boost him enough, but could it really kill what was already dead? 
Hidden in the embrace of familiar shadows, Jazz witnessed Plasmius carrying an unconscious Danny over his shoulder and a…crown in his right hand. 
Not only had the bastard released the King for the Crown of Fire, he’d damned them all for the same item he’d stolen in the aftermath.
Jazz’s next actions weren’t borne from Vengeance, they were unfiltered rage.
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Vlad had died that night, Jazz believed wholeheartedly, he died before she locked him in his casket- a since soldered shut Fenton Thermos. 
Thing was, Jazz didn’t recall what happened between them- all she could really remember when thinking of that time frame was a green haze that was so similar in color to the damned portal. 
One moment, Plasmius had Danny and the Crown. The next, he was a beaten man in his human form with no rise and fall of his chest to convince Jazz he was alive. 
Was it concerning? Of course. Jazz never wanted to hurt anyone, especially not in a blackout rage state. 
(How times have changed.) 
Would she ever mourn Vlad? No. He deserved a far worse fate than a second death. 
(His sins were numerous.) 
If his casket would later be given to Pandora, the trusted Mentor of the Boy King’s Regent…. Well, where better to keep a body hidden than with a Matriarch who understands the sins of man? 
(Pandora had always believed in Jazz, the Regent’s soul was far too bright to be snuffed out without a war.) 
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Within the Infinite Realms, the Regent was called many things- titles that held little meaning to the one in question, but offered weight to her authority. 
The Lady of the Acropolis, for her mentorship with Pandora and position of respect among the populace. 
First Knight of the Star King, would be granted once her Regency was over and Danny was crowned. His epithet as ‘Star King’ was a beautiful homage of a lost dream. 
Death-Claimed Champion. 
It made the Regent grit her teeth when addressed as such, especially when she lived in Gotham presently- the city of Lady Gotham’s Knights… her Champions. 
Jazz had survived to adulthood as a highly contaminated Liminal, no patron to claim as her- Not even Pandora counted even though they shared a teacher/student relationship. 
Would Jason, Red Hood of the Alley, be able to handle managing his territory without the backing of a patron claim? The Lady did swear that the once-Revenant was no longer bound to her service, which meant he could pack up his gear forever if he wanted to.
Though that was highly doubtful. 
Jason was a strong willed man to lay claim to his haunt so quickly and hold fast for so long. Jazz shared her haunt with Danny, but that was only because he was the powerful Halfa and future King. His Haunt would never be challenged by a competent opponent, not in Gotham at least. 
Perhaps Jason would be willing to unite their haunts? 
It was a common tradition for older ghosts to allow weaker ones to share their haunt for protection, but that didn’t translate well to the Death-Claimed. 
(Jazz had a hunch that Jason was so in tune with his haunt that he instinctively knew when she or Danny stepped foot across his boundary.) 
(They tried not to linger, out of respect of another’s haunt of course.) 
Then again, Jason was the Baby Liminal between the two of them. Danny and Jazz should be offering him to share a haunt for protection. 
(Jazz couldn’t help but wonder what Jason looked like as a child.) 
(She would bet almost anything that he was an adorable kid.) 
(Would their kids be so cute?)
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There was a slight lilt of sadness that lingered over the daytime hero, Signal, that Danny almost choked on his Death Wish. 
The coffee, that is. 
Little late on the literal bit. 
Gotham (city, not the Lady) was an ever-gloomy fruit basket full of ghastly vibes. You see it and you know you’re in for a bad time, but that’s typically at night. 
So what was up with Sunshine Child? 
Yeah, he was clearly human and allowed to have off days, duh, but for it to hang like a shroud of storm clouds over Sunny? Yeah, no. That shit needs to be gone, like yesterday. 
“Hey, Sunshine!” Danny called out with a false cheer. It was too damn early in the morning for real cheer, are you mad, but Signal didn’t seem to notice as he approached the lawn chair the Halfa had decided would be his new throne. 
(At least Jazz would find it funny.) 
“Hi Danny. Can I help you with something?” 
Danny took a loud sip of his coffee before he went straight for the throat, “You’re doom and gloom this morning, Sunny. Whose bones do I need ‘ta steal?” 
“No, no, it’s fine. Just…” the meta Hero trailed off, voice tired as he let himself relax for a moment in Danny’s presence. 
(That’s right, Danny’s just a friendly civilian teenager with anger issues, right?)
(Oh he would be cackling at that lie when he had a moment to himself again.)
“My brother is missing.”
Danny blinked. 
“Your brother? One of the birdies?” He tried very hard not to pull out any of his jokes about traffic lights and Stabby Robin, but at least he didn’t sound condescending? 
“Sorta. Red Hood… he went off grid about a week and a half ago.”
(Yeah this isn’t something Danny should be privy to.) 
(Like at all.) 
(It’s not like he was housing the guy in his home right?) 
(Oh wait.) 
“Yikes, Sunny. That sucks, ‘m sorry.”
Signal sighed, “Yeah, thanks Danny.” He paused again, studying the canonical adoption bait that was Danny Fenton before he dropped a bombshell. 
“Batman thinks he’s dead.” 
(Danny almost cackled in manic glee at that statement.)
(Overshot the mark there, Bats. Yikes.) 
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Danny happily waved goodbye to his meta friend, a dorky salute with his coffee cup in commersiation of a shitty hour of the day to be awake, before he leaned back in his lawn chair and yawned. 
“Oh, what drama. Jazz is gonna kill me all the way if she finds out.” He said out loud to no one in particular. The occasional shade that kept him company didn’t bother to move at the sound of his voice now that Signal had left, but it did let out a mournful trill that made Dannny chuckle. 
“Yeah, yep, you’re right- when, when, Jazz finds out.” Danny laughed again, “Worth it.” 
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A/N:
Yeah, I wasn't expecting so much angst either, but apparently, that's my jam, because I literally cannot write anything else. Well, anything that doesn't sound like two robots trying to mimic humans at least.
This was supposed to be a more upbeat entry and look how epically I failed. I had to put a content warning up top because I wrote/heavily implied that Jazz was abused by Vlad due to his obsession with Maddie.
In other news, I have a playlist now for what songs I listen to while writing this. It's called 'Guns & Sword: Jazz on' 'cause 2am me thinks she's clever.
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what if in the tyrants tomb Lester would get scratched not in the abdomen but somewhere on his face
like his chin or cheek or somewhere much more visible (not an eye cause um; I am sure he would lose it)
and after that the infection seems much more terrifying and is hard to bandage properly and neatly and he cannot really effectively cover it (he tried but it is too visible; and the long-sleeved t-shirt could be just like 'oh he cold it's fine' because April is still quite a chill month) so when the virus gets worse it is visible
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sepia-mahogany · 8 months
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After all, children of others could never compare to children of one's own.
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She turned to Wei WuXian and pointed at him, "Wei Ying! Listen to me! Protect Jiang Cheng, protect him even if you die, do you understand?!"
Madam Yu raged, "Did you hear me?! Don't talk nonsense to me, I'm only asking you- did you hear me?!"
Wei Wuxian couldn't struggle out of Zidian. He could only nod his head.
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Jiang Fengmian stared into his eyes. Suddenly, he reached out. Only after pausing in the air did he finally touch Jiang Cheng's head, slowly, "A-Cheng, be well."
Wei WuXian, "Uncle Jiang, if anything happens to you, he won't be well."
Jiang FengMian turned his eyes to him, "A-Ying, A-Cheng... you must look after him."
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jacarandaaaas · 6 months
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HII JUST WANTED TO TELL YOU ALL TO WATCH THIS THE SONG AND ANIMATIC IS INCREDIBLE AND I HAVE SUCH FEELINGS WOW
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yume-fanfare · 22 days
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ok the chess tables really do add a lot
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sinclairstarz · 3 months
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i cant stop thinking about them :(( ignore the bad quality
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orbmanson7 · 7 months
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@intrulogical sent me a Logan Angst prompt!
logan crying in a video whilst offering a solution to something and thomas going "stop crying"
I'm still taking Logan Angst prompts from any word or phrase sent to my ask box!
--
Asking for clarification had become almost habit for him by now.
"Ah, so you didn't mean that literally then?" Logan steadied his expression after the realization struck him. "I suppose this is why clarification is so useful in these discussions."
"There's nothing to clarify, Specs!" Roman threw his hands up dramatically. "It's not like we were trying to trick you!"
Logan blinked at that response. He hadn't thought they were trying to deceive him with their words, no, but it's not as though they had meant what they said, either. Hence the need for clarification.
He nodded towards Roman, replying,
"I understand that, but--"
"Do you?" Roman instantly cut him off. "Because it seems like it takes a million times for us to explain something to you before you actually get it!"
Oh. So he was bothered by Logan's repeated desire for clarification. The quantity was the issue.
"I believe I understand your concern. While some subjects may take extra consideration, I can assure you, I am trying my best."
"Are you?"
Thomas stared back at him with an unreadable expression. Was it unreadable to everyone else, too, or just him?
"Wh..." He was so shocked to hear Thomas outright doubt him like that, he couldn't even formulate the question he wanted to ask. He tried not to let it show, straightening his stance.
Thomas needed his trust, his confidence.
"Of course I am," he told him.
He just needed to be confident. He didn't need to bring more doubt to the topic at hand, after all.
"Princey kind of has a point, though," Thomas only frowned at him. "We've talked about this before, but you never seem to get it. Aren't you supposed to be the smart one?"
"Well, yes, of course," Logan replied as quickly as possible, trying not to sputter over how badly his attempt had just failed. "But it's not as though I have limitless knowledge--"
"Aren't you his language center or whatever it's called?" Virgil piped up. "Isn't this supposed to be your thing?"
"I operate his recognition and use of language, yes," he answered truthfully, "but understanding more than the contextual meaning behind a phrase via facial expression or body language or tone of voice doesn't typically fall to my expertise--"
"Then why are you even doing it?"
"Wh... It... Because it's my job."
He'd never had anyone ask him such a question before, and he wasn't sure there was a better way to answer it.
"And yet," Roman butted in, "you need us to explain what we mean forty times every episode for you to understand? If it's your job, shouldn't you already know how to do that?" He grumbled, crossing his arms. "It's not like I have to relearn how to write every time I have an idea, you know. I already know how to do it. So what's your problem?"
Logan stared. He...wasn't sure there was an adequate answer to that, either. Surely, there was a legitimate reason why pragmatic errors frequented his discussions with others, but if it really was his role to handle that on Thomas' behalf, why was he continuously struggling with it? Why had he not learned about it, held onto that knowledge, and then applied it when the situation arose, just as he had with near everything else?
Why was this different, especially when it so heavily affected his purpose to Thomas?
What was his problem?
Roman laughed.
"What? Cat got your tongue now?"
"...no?" Logan raised an eyebrow, confused. "I still have my tongue and there is no cat to--"
"Logan, seriously, just stop." Thomas held up a hand to stop him. He wasn't even looking at Logan as he spoke. "You're the one always lecturing us about learning stuff but then you don't even understand half of what we're saying unless we spell it out for you!"
Logan bit his lip, willing himself to understand.
"I don't think you'd need to spell anything out, Thomas. I simply ask that you clarify the meaning of--"
"For the love of God, Logan, this is exactly what we're talking about!" Thomas shouted, finally turning to look directly at him.
Logan paused. So this was more of the same, then.
"Ah."
It wasn't just that he was asking too often, it was the matter of his asking at all.
Roman rolled his eyes.
"Boy, and you call me stupid."
"I don't believe I've called you that," Logan responded calmly, then adding, "Today."
Even if it was harsh, at least when he had said that, he meant what he said.
After all, why would someone say something they didn't mean? Wouldn't they want to be understood? To be able to communicate effectively?
When he spoke, he wanted to not only be heard but for others to know what he was trying to convey. Using hidden context served little purpose, and only proved to create massive communication issues like this one.
Logan absently fiddled with the end of his tie.
The others were all looking at him disapprovingly.
He swallowed, but something in his throat felt tight, obstructed. His eyes seemed less focused, slightly blurring around the edges.
He tried to take a proper breath, but it came in shuddering and came back out shaky.
None of these were good signs, at least as far as seeming professional goes.
"Perhaps I have asked for clarification far too often for your liking." Logan paused, expecting to be cut off yet again. When the others didn't respond, he continued, "I merely wish to make sure we're communicating properly, that I'm not misunderstanding your--"
"We shouldn't have to explain it every time!"
And there it was.
Roman and Thomas both began yelling a number of things, but Logan just waited.
Everything they were saying... They were right. Something was definitely wrong here. Logan shouldn't be continuing to struggle if they've all done their part to explain their intention so many times. Why was he still in need of clarification, of assistance? Why hadn't he resolved this on his own already?
He would have to keep trying.
As it quieted down, he turned to Thomas, attempting to hold his gaze without trepidation.
"I... I'll keep trying, then."
"What, so you weren't trying before?" Thomas was so immediately outraged. "How long are we going to have to put up with this?"
"Logan, maybe you just need to try a different way of figuring it out." Patton offered, hands up, placating. "We all know you get stuck in your ways, so maybe just try it our way this time, yeah?"
But doing just that hadn't ended well at all last time. He couldn't have been the only one who remembered that, right? Last time, he was only left confused and ultimately misunderstood by the others when he tried it 'their way'. That couldn't possibly be the solution. No, there had to be something else.
"Well," Logan tried, "I don't know if that would--"
"He's right!" Roman cut in, sounding angry. "You don't even want to get it, do you? Is this an attention thing again??"
Roman moved his arms around in ways that failed to make sense to Logan at all.
"Oh no, Logan needs even more attention now so he has to pretend to be stupid to get even more camera time!"
Logan was completely confused at such a comment. That didn't seem like a fair judge of his conduct at all.
He grimaced,
"I... I would never pretend to--"
"L, it's fine if you're just doing it so you get to talk more," Virgil told him, leaning back casually on the staircase. "I get it, man, but this isn't the way, you know?"
Logan did not 'get it' like Virgil apparently did. Why would someone pretend to not understand something? Why not just be sincere, clarify their confusion so they can get the help they need? What purpose would it serve to lie about it?
"I just..." He wasn't sure how to explain to them that he wasn't pretending without knowing why they thought he was. "That's not... I wouldn't do that--"
"Oh, please." Roman scoffed.
Thomas sighed, putting his face in his hands.
"Logan, the excuses aren't helping, either."
He hadn't meant to bother Thomas with all of this. He was at a loss on what he could do to fix this mess, one he had apparently started all on his own.
He swallowed again, feeling heat begin to rise behind his eyes.
"A-apologies."
Thomas shoved his hands down at his sides. Logan may not have been the best with body language but he could certainly tell his choice to apologize had been the wrong one to make.
Thomas glared at him, something Logan realized he had started to see more often lately. Logan flinched without meaning to, and he couldn't even begin to understand the shiver that had gone through him or what it could possibly mean. His vision blurred.
He could just make out Thomas' expression as it twisted at Logan's knee-jerk reaction, and he suddenly shouted at Logan,
"Ugh, stop crying! Just do better!"
He really hadn't meant to have any overt reaction, but he'd been quite unprepared for this turn of events.
Where had they come up with the idea that he would lie about this? Was this his fault to begin with, for not putting in enough effort to understand, to learn, to improve?
Clearly they had a better understanding than he did, so perhaps they were right. Maybe he was capable of understanding and was simply choosing not to properly learn how to discern the difference in someone's words with how they speak them.
He reached up, removed his glasses, and wiped a palm across his eye, trying to stop the tears that kept flowing. He wasn't entirely sure when he had started crying, either, but now it didn't seem to want to stop.
Thomas was right. Logan had to do better. It was past time he did his job the right way by now, and in the way Thomas wanted above all else.
He put his glasses back on and turned to Thomas, ignoring the last tear escaping down his cheek as he spoke.
"I'll try."
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letters-to-rosie · 5 months
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because the recent Ekko discourse has made me so happy, allow me to make a contribution:
I think it's fun to read Ekko as someone who hates being bored. Even as a kid he's clearly capable of entertaining himself, tinkering, learning fight moves, stalking Jayce—the hoverboards would provide him with a pretty consistent way to divert himself, and a hatred of boredom would lend itself well to the fraught environment he throws himself into with the Firelights. It would also explain some of the needless risk-taking behaviors. I like to write him as someone who tends to make games of things that really should not be games lol
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I might be remembering wrong but I remember an episode of Smallville where there was a universe where Clark was raised as a Luthor instead of a Kent and he’s evil or something and hates Lex
But I love the idea of a similar universe where Clark hates Lionel and just decided “fuck it I’m going to run away and live with Lex instead” and just speeds off to Smallville meanwhile Lex is just so exasperated that his brother has run away from home but is also like yeah I’ll let you stay
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cuepickle · 10 days
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Oh, have you drawn fem!harringrove before?
I HAVENT BUT I NEED TO NOW‼️‼️‼️‼️
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olivers-cocoapuffs · 11 months
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“Reg! Why won’t you bloody talk to me?” Sirius demands, grabbing Regulus by the wrist and pulling him back.
They’re standing in one of the lesser used corridors and Regulus was just trying to get away from his insufferable older brother. Honestly, he’s sick of him and his bullshit.
“Where on earth do you get the audacity?” Regulus hisses, snatching his arm back.
“Audacity? Regulus I’m your brother!” Sirius bursts out, flabbergasted.
“That didn’t fucking matter to you before! You didn’t give a damn about me before I left!”
“Reg-“
“No. Don’t fucking call me that when I’m yelling at you.”
“I-“
“Stop trying to play happy families now that I’m living with Dromeda! If you really cared about me you would’ve talked to me sooner.” Regulus hisses.
Sirius tears back like he’s just been slapped. “I thought you didn’t want to leave!”
Regulus stares at him. “You. Didn’t. Ask.”
“I wanted to take you-
“Don’t blame me, Sirius. If you really wanted to you would have.”
Sirius stares at him, the hurt clearly written across his face. “Reg..”
“Go fuck yourself.” Regulus spits, turning on his heel and walking away.
He wishes he could find it in himself to feel anything but the hot spike of anger. Sirius refused to talk to him for years, and suddenly comes back when he’s felt Regulus has ‘proved himself.’
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Part 14- taking these wounds to their grave
"I'm battered and broken, my spirit's been stolen, but I'm taking these wounds to their grave. Surrounded by allies with fire in their eyes, for the past I don't need to deny." -Relentless by The Nearly Deads
Masterlist Part 13
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In all honesty, learning his girlfriend was a Queen Regent for a different realm wasn’t the weirdest thing to happen to him. Sure, being told that ‘hey, by the way, we forced this substance that tastes like pop-rocks and sprite down your throat to save you from dying again’ was on that list too, but Jason had fucking died. His death was brutal, no doubt, but the weirdest part was the fact that he had been a Revenant the moment he awoke in his coffin. 
A vengeful spirit unable to move on. 
Forced to wander the earth until their reason for clinging to the mortal realm is satisfied. 
It hurt his heart in a phantom reminder of what he had suffered the same day Joker had been brutally murdered, the pain off what had been his second death due to his ‘reason’ being satisfied. 
(It hurt more to realize that he had never needed Bruce to kill Joker.)
(It had all been for nothing.) 
Jazz was quiet where she was tucked up against him in the large medical bed the Yeti had treated him in, not yet asleep by her breathing but calmly existing with him in this space. 
It was everything he needed. 
Jazz was truly the other half of his soul, the one he was meant to find. 
(She avenged him.) 
(She saved him.) 
He would marry Jasmine Nightingale aka the Regent of the Realms aka Lady of the Acropolis, he would be her staunchest supporter as the world keeps turning around them. What else is he meant to do in the face of her overwhelming love for him? 
(She avenged him.) 
(She saved him.) 
They still had more to discuss and Jason would continue to swallow down the question that began with ‘Will you’ and ended with ‘Marry me’ amidst the others he needed answers for. They’d only been dating a month, so it would be a while before Jason was comfortable even allowing thoughts of matrimony to blossom from seed to full bloom. 
(He wanted everything with her.) 
(His Lady.) 
(The Lady to his Knight.) 
(Jason Nightingale had a nice ring to it.)
Jason kissed the top of Jazz’s head and pulled her further onto his chest before he fell back asleep, content with having his lady in his arms again. 
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Bruce wanted to laugh and cry in equal measure as he studied the pictures of his wayward son with his girlfriend, laughing, smiling, in love. Oh, Bruce could tell how smitten Jason was by how he looked so fondly at Jasmine Nightingale, the civilian his son had chosen to build a relationship with. On paper, they shared a common love of reading (Jason was classical literature, Jasmine was psychological thrillers), and an excellence at school (Jasmine had a 4.0 gpa), but there was little else to draw them together. 
Yet, despite this, the two were happy together. They were in love. His son was in love. 
And he was missing. 
(Bruce swallowed down the grief at Jason being dead…again.)
(He’d been missing before, he’ll turn up.)
It was worrying that the sub-dermal tracker stopped working while Jason was at Jasmine’s apartment, but there had been no immediate sign that they’d been caught in the explosion or remained trapped in the debris. 
Phantom had vanished almost as soon as he entered, no doubt on the trail of what had disturbed the spirit’s haunt so violently. It was concerning how competent the child ghost was at fighting, how angry Phantom became when there was a threat he had to face. Insult, demean, threaten him and the boy laughed it off with a casual grace that spoke of experience, but turn that attention to the people he claimed as his? No chance in the infinite realms that he wouldn’t find you. Constantine had been adamant to leave the spirit alone, to let him exist in his way, but the Magician often went out of his way to let others deal with his messes, so Bruce often took his advice with far more than a grain of salt. 
\B, Phantom’s back. He says Hood is fine./
Relief coursed through the big bat, untightening the knot in his chest. Jason was fine. He is fine. 
His eyes drifted back to the pictures splashed across the bat computer, the adoration in Jason’s gaze as he focused on his girlfriend was the common theme between all the candid shots Barbara had shared. Jasmine always leaned into his frame or held his hand, just sharing his space, body language comfortable and open. 
(He could have a daughter-in-law very soon.)
(Maybe even a grandchild.)
Bruce let a smile slowly stretch across his face at the idea of being a grandfather, of finally retiring from the cowl and WE to be doting on a granddaughter or grandson, spending time with his family while he was still able to in this life.
(A part of him squealed and clapped at the very thought of more family gracing these once-empty halls.)
But first, he had to talk to his son and meet his future daughter-in-law.
Bruce was about to activate his comms, to have Tim get more information about Jason, but an urgent message from Diana, demanding he’s needed in the Watch Tower. 
Constantine was summoning the Ghost King. 
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Phantom had in fact left the apartment building. 
Jazz’s familiar teal-tinted portal opened for him to step through while he investigated and he didn’t waste any time crossing over to the Realms to where Jazz awaited him. 
And there she was, arms outstretched and awaiting him to embrace her. 
“Thank the Ancients!” Phantom exclaimed, diving into her waiting arms to wrap around his big sister, their different temperatures ignored in favor of communicating his relief with chirps and trills. 
Worry. Safe. Concern. RELIEF. Protect? 
Jazz clutched him tighter to her, nuzzling his soft white hair as she chirped back. 
Safe. Relief. Guilty. LOVE. 
At least Jazz would never fail to communicate her love for him, even while trying to reassure him she was okay. 
Phantom’s core purred and Jazz’s Proto-core echoed it, albeit weaker in frequency. They stayed like that, hugging each other right outside the tribe’s boundary for a while before Jazz spoke. 
“Little brother, we have to talk.” 
Those words beginning a conversation often led to him being angry or upset, but Jazz hadn’t needed him to be so serious for quite a while.  
“Hmm?” 
She shifted her weight a bit, readjusting her grip around Phantom’s form.
“It’s about Jason…I told him about me.” 
“As in,” Phantom began, pulling back from the hug, “you told him about Amity and…me?” 
Jazz puffed out a sigh, a wisp of breath in a mockery of his ghost sense hanging in the air between them. 
“I told him about us being ecto-contaminated, me being the most liminal being and all, but I told him I wouldn’t share your secrets.”
Phantom grinned, “Good because it’s about time I gave him a shovel talk.” 
“No, little brother.” Jazz got a pained look on her face for a moment as the frosty air grew tense. A summoning and a painful one at that. “Phantom-” 
“Go, I’ll talk to your boyfriend.” 
“Be nice, not bitchy nice.” 
“I’m always nice!”  
He only received a scoff before Jazz was dragged along by the summoning, a brief flash of her armor appearing signaling it was a serious situation. Phantom did not envy the idiot who tried to summon the Ghost King only to get the Regent instead. 
Speaking of idiots, Phantom had a Liminal to lecture and threaten. 
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“Hurt her and I’ll shove you into a thermos, mix you into a smoothie, and drink you for breakfast.”
“Creative.” 
With that out of the way, Phantom floated over to Jason’s side and poked his stomach. 
“You doing ok?” He questioned, concern for his fellow vigilante bleeding through. Sure, he cared about Jason the human, but Red Hood was infinitely cooler. 
“Yeah, kid. I’m doing good.” Jason shuffled a bit more towards the center of the large cot, “You’re Danny Nightingale.” It was definitely not meant to be an accusation, Phantom was sure, but it sure felt like one. 
The ghost kid nodded, “I’m a Halfa, half-ghost and half-human. When in ghost form, I prefer Phantom.” 
“They/him?” 
Phantom shrugged, “Close enough.” 
Jason snorted, “How’re you doing kid?” 
“I’m currently talking to my sister’s boyfriend about to give him a crash course on the spooky and ooky.” The halfa grinned, “I couldn’t be better.” 
“Was that a reference?” 
“Was what a reference?”
“Nevermind.”
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To say Jason was horrified was a gross understatement. 
He was so far past horrified he was well into confused panic at the sheer audacity of what he was currently hearing... 
“You’re the rightful Ghost King, but you’re too young in human and ghost cultures to rule in your name so your older sister is acting as your Regent. Do I have that right?” 
“Pretty much, yeah.” 
(Wow, Jazz was a badass.)
“Wait, but she goes by Regent as a vigilante?” 
“It was easier than calling her anything else, a lot of the ghosts refer to Jazz as either Regent, Your Majesty, or My Lady so she’s grown used to responding to them.” 
“Hold up- Lady?” 
Another hum, “Jazz is the Lady of the Acropolis, a former student of Pandora, the Guardian of Hope and Ancient of Peace.” 
“Wow, my girlfriend is awesome.” 
Phantom chuckled, a soft pat on Jason’s shoulder, “And don’t you forget it.” 
Whatever face Jason made as he realized he was courting a Lady, an actual Lady with a title and everything, was hilarious enough to make Phantom burst out laughing. 
Whatever, Jason could take the mockery from Phantom as long as his family never found out about him dating a Lady. His brothers would never let him live it down, that he was living out his Regency fantasies. 
(Fuckers, they’re just jealous he got a badass with a sword.) 
“Where is Jazz?” 
Phantom cringed, “She, uh, had to deal with something?” It was phrased as a question. 
“Something we should be worried about?” 
“For Jazz?” There was a hint of hero worship in his tone as the Ghost spoke of his sister, “We should be worried for the poor idiot that summoned her.” 
(Hold up.) 
“Summoned?” 
“Summoned, keep up.” 
Put a pin in that for later. “Why would anyone want to summon Jazz?” 
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s not like she’s Regent of the Realms Infinite.” Ok, yeah, Jason deserved that sass. He was still wrapping his head around the fact that Jazz, his lovely spitfire of a soulmate girlfriend had Regency over a dimension of ghosts because Holy Shit. 
(He was totally simping over her, he’s man enough to admit it.)
Somehow that seemed more of a staggering revelation than being told he had been a Revenant with corrupted Ectoplasm that had technically died for a second time when he had those severe chest pains, only to be revived by Jazz pouring pure ecto down his throat. 
(The same Ecto she needs to keep herself healthy.)
(He wondered if Jazz had felt the connection between them even then.)
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An unexpected summoning was a shard of ice in her spine, twisting like a knife of betrayal in the nerves, utter agony. Jazz had little warning, little time to brace herself before she was hooked behind her navel and yanked.
Thank the Ancients she wasn’t in the shower, because whoever dared to summon the Ghost King was not going to receive an eyeful for their trouble. 
Jazz allowed her armor to materialize, a slick sensation of water down her back soothed the lingering pain of the brutal summons, but her back plate soon settled firmly in place and irritated the nerves more so. 
Just as her helmet locked into place, sealing her fully into her armor, green smoke announced her arrival with a dramatic flair she couldn’t find humor in. 
Rested on one knee, head bowed, the Regent was quite an intimidating sight for the uninitiated. 
Her helmet, full coverage with a crown of green shards embedded into its pulsing ebony metal, only allowed the green tint of her eyes to shine through. Once her head lifted, the several shivers her gaze got proved how effective it was at unnerving others. 
With a breath, the Regent stood. 
And so we continue….
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A/N:
If you're confused by the ending it picks up from Part 12, my special Jason Todd/Red aesthetic entry for the series. Part 12 to 13 takes place right beforehand, so we'll be entering into the endgame of the Anti-Ecto Acts being repealed soon.
Kudos and thanks to my beta reader @meditating-cat. Apparently I over use commas, who knew?
They had one thing to say about Jason in this part: SIMPPPP
I agree, I'm a totally dork for Simp!Jason and Loving!Jazz.
As for other news, I've been making a bunch of boards for The Regent (and my Revenant!Jazz prompt) while I've been sick, so there's that. I don't like many of them anyways.
A surprise poll will be included in an upcoming part, maybe not the next one, but it will come so keep an eye out for it because the answer will be included in the series.
Happy Holidays and best wishes from me to you!
-Love, the one strong with the sarcasm
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