#*points at jazz* this badass can hold so much angst

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Part 12 - it was just for fools

"We were searching for reasons to play by the rules, but we quickly found it was just for fools." -Mary On A Cross by Ghost

Masterlist Part 11

Wonder Woman, with her extensive diplomatic training, was the perfect speaker to bring before the United Nations council. 

There was something regal about Diana, something that demanded attention from all genders and ages, her accent smooth and light with eyes hardened with barely concealed anger at what brought her to their door. 

The Anti-Ecto Acts. 

Diana understood war. There was very little she hadn’t experienced where it concerned the subject, from betrayal to a very personal loss, but now she had another chance to draw from her past. 

Prevention of a war. 

Only fools would believe a war against the Infinite Realms, the land of the End and death incarnate, that which holds every afterlife for every belief, was winnable. 

Every death on humanity’s side, was another solider for the King of the End. 

That was yet another point. 

The Once and Future Star King, Vanquisher of the Dark, Protector of the Light, Great One…. Was a Protector spirit. The spirit of a child who died wanting to be saved. 

Diana sighed, awaiting her fellow heroes in the meeting hall, Black Canary, Superman and Batman (with his ever tiny Robin) were already present. Red Robin was sat with a tablet, reading through a collection of data instead of conversing. 

It was almost seven on the dot, the meeting filled with nearly all members of the League, when Constantine portals in with a flask in one hand and a book in the other. 

“Not a word.” He grumbles around an unlit cigarette held between his lips, unceremoniously dropping into an unoccupied seat. 

Despite the surprise of John Constantine being on time for something, much less a Justice League meeting, Diana had other concerns to deal with. 

Namely, the repeal of the Anti-Ecto Acts. 

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 had the audacity 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. 

“You have tried to summon the King of the End, why?” 

John Constantine was many things- a liar, a cheater, a non-believer- but he was certainly not a fool. He’d been against summoning the Ghost King, knowing full well to whom they would be dragging unwilling instead. Somehow the title of Regent failed to comprehend to most present, which was not Constantine’s fault in the slightest. 

(Hey, at least he was mostly sober summoning, right?) 

(Had to give credit where it’s due.) 

Bats was unamused with Constantine’s first warning of ‘Do not fuck with’ when Phantom had first shown himself, but this was ridiculous really. A message was always better than trying to summon the King, who would want to be interrupted right? 

Yet again, the Magician was overruled. 

(At least he didn’t have to sell his soul this time.) 

(The Phantom already gifted the glued together remnants to his Regent.) 

(Morbid as it was, at least John knew it was in better hands than some half wit demon he’d scammed.) 

No one answered before the Regent spoke with some amusement lacing her words, “I should have known a summon from you, Constantine, would be painful.” 

(Was it a good or bad sign that the Regent didn’t immediately call him ‘Sad Trenchcoat man’?) 

Diana politely interjected, “Greetings, My Lady. We apologize for the unfortunate experience and will endeavor to do better in future meetings.” 

(Good old Diana.)

“Greetings.” The Regent replied, helmeted head slightly tilted as she studied the others present before her, having been ignored for the time being. 

Wonder Woman pressed a fist over her heart with a slight bow of her head as she spoke again, “May I introduce the Justice League and it’s founders; Batman, Superman, and myself, Wonder Woman. You are familiar with Constantine, who is a member of Justice Dark.” 

“I am the Regent of the Realms, Lady of the Acropolis, you may refer to me as either.” Jazz intoned, serious as was only right for her titles. “I’ll ask once more… Why.” 

Constantine, despite the familiarity he held with Phantom, shivered in the presence of the Regent. The owner of his soul could command he turn on his allies, zap away his free will with only a few words. Sure, he had some doubts that the Regent would, but that doesn’t mean she couldn’t. The AEA proved that the Infinite Realms had every right to declare war on the Living and its citizens would be drafted to fight in the Legion, regardless of mortality status. 

John was many things- a liar, a cheater, a non-believer- but he was not a soldier or a fool.

He would be called to arms, as a magic user and battle-blooded soldier. There would be no choice, no deal he could make that would see his fate change. 

It was fortunate that the Regent didn’t want a war, but there was only so much she could do to hold back the growing tide of angry entities that wanted vengeance on parents, siblings, and children taken from them. 

(Ancients above and below, he needed a drink.)

It was times like this that brought the Regent back to her long days of training in the Acropolis. The echo of steel against steel, dodging ecto-blasts, deflecting weapons with her bracelets, Pandora’s steady words…

Pandora was many things- Leader of the Acropolis, Guardian of Hope, teacher, advisor, so on and so forth.

Pandora might be a ghost, an Amazon tasked with guarding her box, a Warrior of the ages past, but she was ultimately the Ancient of Peace. 

The Peace she never knew in life, war-hardened as she was. Raised with one hand clutching a weapon and the other an open palm, Pandora was a diplomat at heart. War had not been kind to her, but still, she taught her pupil (the Regent) the importance of listening. 

Many issues could be solved when one took the time to shut their mouth. 

Draw weapon, draw blood.

Aim at nothing you’re not willing to destroy.

If your opponent believes they have the upper hand, break it.

(These are just a few rules of war.) 

(She knew them all by heart.)

(Each one ingrained on her body, scars a testament to a faith in her training and herself.) 

The only rule Pandora had given her where to concerned Peace was this: 

Reach for it, but know that hearts aren’t so easily swayed as minds. 

It was why Jasmine never bothered trying to negotiate with the GIW. Their hearts were black and there was no changing their minds. 

Here she was, summoned by the Justice League with their own diplomatic trained Amazon at the ready. Pandora would be proud of her sister-in-arms, because despite the Regent’s unknown threat potential Wonder Woman had not reached for the sword at her side. Instead, she’d done a traditional Amazon greeting, from one warrior to another, a sign of respect that Jasmine had not expected to ever receive outside the Acropolis. 

“We had expected to summon the King, but were unaware of a Regent, my lady.” Wonder Woman spoke, but Constantine interrupted whatever she would have said next. 

“We wanted to discuss the possibility of war against the living, Regent.” 

Jasmine snorted, the voice-modulating function of her helmet made it sound funny to her ears, “Blunt as always, Constantine. You’re worried I would order you against your allies?” 

The Sad Trenchcoat Man blinked once, twice, “Bloody Hell, you don’t waste time, do ya?” 

“You possess the power to command Constantine?” 

That question had come from Lady Gotham’s first Knight, steady with no discernible emotion in voice. His hands were resting on his utility belt, which was a bad sign of his current judgment of her character. 

“For the sake of honesty, yes, Dark Knight, as the keeper of his Soul Remnants, I could command the Magician to do my bidding.” The Regent continued, “However, it was a gift and Phantom is fond enough of the Sad one that I wouldn’t use it unless I had no other choice.” 

“What would constitute ‘no other choice’?” 

Huh, Jasmine was starting to understand why Phantom chose Batman to give the Ghost Files too. She could feel the determination and protectiveness radiating off his soul, a familiar (though less powerful) sensation she only got from her little brother. 

“War.” The Regent retorted, “I’m beginning to understand why Phantom would choose you, Knight.” 

Constantine perked up a bit, “Didn’t you avenge him?” 

“Yes.” 

Wonder Woman came forward again, “My Lady, we wish to discuss the conditions of Peace between the Living and the Infinite Realms.” 

Jasmine smiled a bit sadly, though no one could see it, “I would be honored to.” 

If anyone asked, Red Hood did not swoon when he witnessed his future wife girlfriend kick a man straight in the balls so hard he saw God. 

Jazz was a beacon during a Gotham night, beautiful red hair seeming to catch fire with every light that danced across it, shoulders back and head held high his girl resumed her steady pace towards her apartment. This was a typical night for them, minus the would-be mugger and Jazz being unaware of the Red Hood following from above to make sure she got home safely. 

(Jason hadn’t been able to convince her to carry a gun.)

(Nonetheless, he knew his girl could take care of herself, but that didn’t stop the worry.) 

Hood wasn’t convinced about the safety of the area bordering his Alley, The Ridge,  with two relatively unknown metas acting as it’s Vigilantes and seeming to drive down the crime rate in the neighborhood to near extinction faster than he’d seized control of his own territory. It was odd that the metas weren’t crossing into the Alley, seeming to go around it and more into Gotham proper when they decided to roam, as if they respected the Red Hood claim more than the other bats. 

(Wasn’t that just a hoot.) 

(Two non-bats had more respect for him than his own family.) 

The Ridge was the lesser known little brother to Crime Alley, with its residents being mostly three-jobs and a drug problem demographic, but with Phantom and Regent the area had begun to show a bit more life. Sure, most of the builds were on the wrong side of dilapidated, hanging on with duct tape and a wad of gum, but when it was just bright out enough- no matter the time of day- Phantom’s ice can be seen glinting from miles around as it curved itself around foundations and floors to stabilize the structures. It hadn’t melted in the slightest the two months since it’s been formed. Hood had even tried to get a sample for testing, but the ice would not budge. Hell, he’d even taken a cheap shot at it- nothing. Well, except for the fact that you could now see a bullet encased within the ice. 

Phantom was a chill guy, apparently. 

(Hood internally groaned at the unintentional pun.) 

(Quick mental note made to shoot Dick in… well, the dick.) 

Red Hood had been gritting his teeth against the warm sensations of protect-anxiety-nervous for days, sensing danger every time he closed his eyes. Something had invaded Gotham and was messing with the Pit. 

No, not the Pit. The Pit was gone, no longer bubbling in his gut or green edging his vision, it was gone and replaced with something else. 

Something that gave him trouble, but was definitely a step up from Pit Madness. 

(And what a time for it to vanish, with Jason dating Jazz no more bloody nightmares when she was in his arms.)

He’d followed that ball of anxiety in his chest across Gotham, unconsciously avoiding Bruce’s usual patrol route and he climbed up to one of the gargoyles that kept vigil over the clock tower. Barbie hadn’t opened the comms to ask him what the hell are you doing here, but he wasn’t going to waste what little time he had with Phantom before he had to return to the Alley. 

The kid wasn’t older than Tim, but was ethereal in his form that felt cold to Hood. There wasn’t any sign that Phantom had been hurt by the Drs. Fenton, but Hood was all too aware of how looks could be deceiving. 

(The fuckers had vivisected him.) 

With every word passed between them, had Hood confirming the Ghost Files information to be accurate as far as Phantom was concerned. He was a teenager, a ghost in Gotham who was under the protection of the Regent and Ghost King. 

(Though incredibly corrupted, Barbara had been able to find a few frames of clarity.) 

(Lo and behold, the death of those bastards.) 

(He knew he recognized the armored figure, but couldn’t figure it out.) 

(It was right there on the tip of his tongue.) 

That same ball of anxiety loosened its hold with Phantom, a sense of protect-worry overwhelmed whatever else was in his chest. 

Phantom was a kid, ghost or not, vigilante or not. 

(No more dead robins.) 

It took two days and twelve hours for Jason to finally connect the dots between Regent and why in Hell he felt he knew the armored knight. 

Jazz was in her kitchen, hair braided and swinging back and forth against her back as she hummed and swayed in time with the soft music playing. His girl looked good in his Gotham Knights t-shirt, shorts revealing her toned thighs and legs, neckline of her borrowed shirt riding low enough to reveal several hickies he’d left on her earlier on the couch. Pride warmed his chest as he watched his darling Jazz, love for her settled deep into his bones. He knew she was the one for him, no going back, even if she didn’t know everything about him-Red Hood, his death, etc.

Jazz was made of steel and iron, forged with love and cracked with betrayal. Who had betrayed her in the past was obvious, her parents, their death must’ve been a mixed bag. Not to mention making the decision to allow their souls to be claimed by the Regent of the Infinite Realms. 

He had no doubt she would be unafraid of his nighttime persona, but he didn’t think he could handle her judgment of his past sins. He loved her too much and wanted to be good. 

The music stopped, dragging Jason out of his thoughts to find Jazz watching him with concern plain on her face. 

“Jace?” She lightly called for him, helpless to her he rose and gently wrapped her in his arms, her head tucked comfortably under his chin. 

“I’m ok, Jazz, just have a lot on my mind.” 

His girl hummed lightly, the sound vibrating slightly through Jason’s chest where her head rested. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

“They’re not worth that much.” 

Jazz pinched his side in retaliation for his lightly self-demeaning comment, but ultimately let it go. Another reason he loved her, she didn’t tolerate his bullshit. She’d been horrified to hear his comments about his self-worth, as much as he was joking, and had firmly threatened to punt his ass into the sun if he didn’t start getting a better self-image. 

To his credit, he listened and began seeing Harley for counseling, which he knew he’d needed when he’d finally gotten a working braincell again after his dip in the line green Kool-aid. He’d put it off long enough, believing that the Pit wouldn’t let him remain calm enough to discuss his abandonment issues and mental health. 

The Pit wasn’t churning in his gut anymore so any anger he felt was all Jason’s, and Jason’s alone. It was oddly satisfying to know that he was once again responsible for how he handled his anger. 

Jazz never really demanded anything, only insisting on some boundaries at the start of their relationship when it was difficult to keep his hands to himself while she was in his sight. His darling was the same this why she set those boundaries so they could get to know each other without it just devolving into sex. 

Sure, they have done some heavy petting and Jason definitely liked leaving his mark on her, but they hadn’t felt compelled to go further. Now that they had been together a little over a month the heat between them settled into a slow summer in his blood, no more threat of them acting like a pair of degenerate dumbasses with lesser brain function. 

Not that Jason would ever be against having sex with Jazz, he loved her and wanted to know her in every sense, but he had to confess several things before he could allow himself to be put off guard with his pants down. The big Y-incision scar on his chest was horrific and Jason didn’t want to scare his girl away before he had a chance to come clean. He wanted, no, needed Jazz to accept every part of him- life, death, Jason and Red Hood. He was ready for her to know the truth. 

What he wasn’t ready for, like last time, was the bomb.

A/N: Yes, beta read by @meditating-cat! Great beta reader, really appreciate the quick response and notes. Thanks!

We're gonna have a bit of a time jump between the summoning and the cliffhanger, which means that Jazz being summoned happens after. I wrote it this way for a reason... I think. Don't quote me on that.

Anyways, special red tint this time, because I just watched Death in the Family for the first time before writing this part and...I didn't like it. No, I'm not sure why I don't either. Jason is my favorite character for a reason.

Now, if you'll excuse me I'm gonna go read Wayne family adventures to make myself feel better.

Thanks for reading!

PS: 3k words???

[the-punforgiven]

tell me about your favorite ocs!! which oc would be the one that pays for the person in front if them when they dont have enough for their coffee?

Ayyy, sure thing!

I’m also gonna put it under a readmore since I tend to ramble forever on this sort of thing lmao

I mean, I’ve got a whole bunch, and the way I kinda write is in that weird style where there’s no actual protagonist? If that makes sense? Like sometimes it’s one character, then it’ll switch to the perspective of another? I dunno

And I mean this is me we’re talking about so OF COURSE a lot of them are in bands together

Anyway so Band Number One (Who are also the first characters introduced lmao) are 

Victor, he’s a top notch vocalist and an all-around cool guy, even if he’s a little self-centred at times. He’s the type who knows everyone and will tell you everything he knows about them the second you ask, and can’t keep a secret to save his life. He belongs to a once-wealthy family, and lives in what’s left of the family estate. Though his family’s fallen pretty far, he holds a great deal of pride in his heritage, and hopes that he can one day restore his family name. To answer that above question, Vic would, however he’s broke as hell so he probably can’t

Rich, who’s the rock of the group. He’s a great and dependable guy, who’s all steadfast and an reliable and shit. He’s good person to go too when the whole world’s going insane. (Spoiler alert, it does) He’s a competent bassist, and plays for two of the important bands that happen to show up in the story. He’s got an interest in magic and the arcane, which is the ulterior motive that drew him to Over (The city that everything takes place in) in the first place. (And to answer the question above, Rich absolutely would)

Sebastian, the rhythm guitarist, is honestly kind of a wreck. I mean, he’s a completely legit medical professional and has played in a decently famous band, but he’s unfortunately cursed with bad luck and horrible decisions, which has kinda landed him in the mid. He’s a pretty sad guy lmao As for answering that question, to be honest Sebastian would probably just angst about how bad his life is and how lucky the other person is to only have the coffee as a problem, for he’s also kind of a piece of shit lmao

Their lead guitarist is named Al, and this is where the story kinda veers off into being really weird and only gets worse from here, because Al is actually an ancient magical elf dude with the power to control the essence of darkness itself. He doesn’t actually like this power though, because back when he first got it, he was in a really dark place and going through some real bad shit. Present day, he’s not even actually using it, since he’s made a point and left his violent self in the past. In terms of demeanour, he’s honestly surpassed Team Mom status and is kinda venturing into Team Grandma territory. (To answer The Above Question again, Al is most definitely that guy, but he would also buy them a sandwich or something too honestly)

Their drummer is a strange fellow, He’s a pretty moody dude, he can’t remember his name, has spooky glowing eyes, and wears a big stupid trench coat covered in chains. (He insists it’s stage attire and that’s why he’s wearing such a big fashion disaster, but he wears it everywhere so it’s a pretty flimsy excuse lmao) He died once and returned from the underworld with a bunch of cool shit he stole on the way out, as well as a love of street racing that he gathered whilst forced to compete in demonic gladiatorial chariot races (He’s also hella insecure about his badassitude, and forces himself to look as badass as possible at all times, even if he comes across as a massive asshole because of it)

There are a bunch of other characters who I really like too, Such as Al’s weird-ass roommates and my amazing jazz children but I kinda feel like I’ve Wall-Of-Text’d too much already lmao, so there’s kinda the Core Band I guessPun intended

Thanks for the ask, also! I honestly love talking about my ocs lmao

[pendragonfics]

This Girl Is Afraid of Elevators, What She Did Next Will Astound You!

Paring: Derek Hale/Reader

Tags: female reader, anxiety attacks, fear, fear of elevators, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, humour. 

Summary: Everyone has a fear. Yours just has to be elevators, and with the stairs and fire escape out of action, there's no other choice to leave Derek Hale's loft...but by elevator.

Word Count: 1,888

Current Date: 2017-07-12

It didn’t matter that you were an adult. That you were a teacher. Could drink alcohol, could drive. It didn’t matter that you were the girlfriend of Derek Hale, the well-known black sheep of Beacon Hills, and that if it came to it, he’d fight until the death for you. None of things mattered…when there were elevators involved. For as long as you could remember the sensation – a sort of jolt of your stomach falling to your knees when the metal cage dipped down, a nausea when it jerked upward – it had made you feel sick, especially when you were by yourself in the space. It didn’t help that loads of movies had scenes where the elevators broke down, often leading to the two protagonists to make out until help came, or fall to their deaths.

But over time, a near-miss accident in the mall, a prank gone wrong (“Screw you, Jackson, and the horse you rode in on!”) your fear was completely, and utterly rational. Apparently, in the USA alone, there were an average of twenty-six deaths per year on the account of elevators. There was a Facebook page community for people like you who hated metal death traps. But be it rational or not, you had to shake it off. Or stay another night at Derek’s place.

For the last week, you’d stayed in his bed, wearing his clothes, eating his food. The pack thought it was gorgeous; almost drop-dead domestic that Derek would have you hang around and spread your scent everywhere. You had rolled your eyes, and gone and used your toothbrush (that had been hiding in a package under the sink), and prepared to shower. Not that you could really hear them; you had no special stuff, powers, or any of that jazz. You were just a human. If you could hear, you’d be surprised how much snooping was going on.

As soon as the door to the bathroom was closed behind you, Scott turned to Derek, and looked up at him. “It’s been days, _________ hasn’t left your place. Doesn’t she have work?”

Derek shrugged, indifferent. “I guess. I don’t know, she hasn’t said anything.���

“Dude,” Stiles raised a single eyebrow, shaking his head slowly, “You need to ask her. For all we know, she’s been kicked out, and mooching from you.” He chuckled at that, but upon catching sight of Scott’s small shake of the head, added quickly, “I mean, ah, it’s the right thing to do.”

From the corner, Isaac piped up. “She’s been here almost six days, right?”

Scott nodded. “Yeah. Since Thursday.” The Alpha confirmed, and narrowed his eyes at the scarf-loving blonde. “Why?”

The curly-haired werewolf got up from his seat on the couch, and his fingers to count his points on. “On Thursday, we had the attack on the apartment block, remember? The stairs got smashed up, and we’re still waiting on the supplies and maintenance to come from Sacramento.” He grimly reminded them. “Your fire escape is kind of out of order, Derek…since the Oni, I think. You need to work on that. Which leaves, the elevator.”

Stiles frowned. “Yeah, what of it?”

Derek’s eyes widened. “_________ hates elevators.”

Scott swallowed. But instead of commenting on it, their werewolf-senses heard you turn the shower off, and before you’d even wrapped a towel around yourself to come out, they’d dispersed, and changed the subject to something less touchy, but dumbed down enough for any old idiot to get what they were playing at. But as you went upstairs and changed into clean clothes, you rolled your eyes, and made your way downstairs.

“Good morning,” you greet Scott and Stiles, and sparing a wave to Isaac, you pause, and remember your manners. You might be human, but your mother didn’t raise you like this. “Am I interrupting –?” you ask Derek, glancing around, but you can’t see any more pack members; no Kira, Malia, or Lydia. “I can –,”

Derek shakes his head. “Stay. I mean, if you want. You don’t have to.”

“Don’t tread softly around me,” you narrow your eyes, “I know I’ve been here a week, Derek.” You turn, and give everyone a slight glare, “I can tell that it’s what you’ve been talking about, you all went sort of quiet when I left the bathroom. I work with kids. You have werewolf senses? I have other skills.”

Scott nods his head along with your words, agreeing.

“So,” you challenge your boyfriend, standing up to your full height. “You’re kicking me out?” It does nothing on his brick-like, buff-as-heck frame, and makes you think that you’re like a puppy challenging a wolf.

Isaac shook his head. “We’re just worried for you, _________. You’ve missed work. I don’t think it’s good for your fears to get that much in the way of your life.” He tells you, in his soft voice.

You shrug, indifferent. “I’ve been here since Thursday; only means three days of sick leave, Isaac. Or have you forgotten that outside the whole Werewolf McWerewolf lives you all lead, I grade your history papers?” You glance to the other boys, and add, with unknown bravado, “Please. I bet I could do it. I can leave right now, and it won’t be a problem at all.” The boys say nothing as you grab your bag from the bedroom, and wait by the door to the loft. “What?”

Derek shakes his head. “Nothing. Come on, let’s go.”

Stiles ran ahead, and pressed the button to the elevator. By the time the pack had caught up, the elevator had arrived, and hesitantly, you walked into the metal box. Scott’s eyes were wide, and muttered something about leaving his phone in the apartment. Before you could hit the hold the elevator! button, you realised that there was none, and when Derek moved to hold the door, it shut anyway. Leaving you two to descend in moderately lit silence.

It was fine. At least, you thought you were; apart from the fact that you were enclosed in a really small space descending downward through a tunnel suspended by a cable. And that you were sure that there was sweat on the back of your neck, and that Derek could hear your mile-a-minute heartbeat like a techno disco beat one door down the hallway. It was fine, except one whole minute after the door closed, there was a jolt. And the elevator stopped.

“Are you okay?”

You shake your head. “I’m fine.” But, as always, you speak too soon, and there’s a jerk, and the elevator seems to slide down a way, almost like a free-fall. It’s enough to freak you out; enough to wrangle a screech from you.

“_________ –,”

“I knew this was a really, really bad idea!” you cry, backing away from him. “Der –,” you feel your breathing accelerate, nausea fills your stomach like mouldy milk. Derek placed a hand on your shoulder, but you burst, backing up into the corner of the elevator floor, your arms wrapped tight over your head. “I’m going to die. We’re going to die in an elevator.”

“It’s okay, _________. It’s just an old elevator.” He assures you.

“Oh my g –,” your eyes widen, peeking up at Derek in fear, a wash of dizziness coming over you. “We’re definitely going to die in an elevator.”

While you’re focusing on not tossing up breakfast and onto the aluminium-plated ground, Derek has his phone out, and is furiously texting, his frown matching the intensity of little taps of the keyboard. You’ve heard that reception can be shoddy in closed in spaces, like trains, old underground war bunkers, submarines, elevators. You take a deep breath, and close your eyes, trying to think of something other than that you’re trapped with Derek.

“Tell me something good,” you whisper.

Slowly, Derek settles himself before you on the floor. It makes you think of a wolf approaching a puppy; Derek’s hair is getting long, his facial hair too. But those eyes, the green in them so bright, they look almost like a crystal, shining from within his soul. You watch him take your hands in his, and feel his fingers caress yours, warming your palms. As you close your eyes, he begins to speak.

“It was summertime, I think,” he starts off, his thumb drawing lazy circles over your knuckles. “You’d just graduated from UCLA, returning home. But some idiot had burst a tyre on their car on the way into town, and this fresh grad student helped the guy out.” Through your barely-closed lashes, you can see him smile a little, that rare gem of a smile that always made you feel better, “You hadn’t seen him since school, and here he was, stranded, and you managed to swap the tyre, and defiantly teach the guy a lesson about not knowing about his own car.”

“I was kind of badass,” you whisper.

“Yeah,” Derek agrees, and adds, “But to be fair, that guy was better at other things than changing blown out tyres.”

At that, you chuckle. “Yeah. Like turning into a werewolf, and fighting baddies while I’m stuck inside a classroom teaching school kids about the Salem witch hunts.” Before you can share a smile, the elevator jerks, dipping lower, and what calmness you’d managed to amass had gone south. “Derek,” you murmur, worried.

He gathers you close to him, so your head is nestled under his chin, between his shoulders, wrapped tight within his arms. In his arms, you can hear his heartbeat; it’s steady, calm, even though you’ve been in your worst nightmare for the last ten minutes.

“Shhh,” he whispers, his hands migrating to the back of your neck, stroking your hair slowly, calmly. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

---

Four minutes later, the two of you came out, unscathed. Derek’s texts had gotten through which lead Scott and Isaac to parkour over the balcony, and arrange for maintenance to come to the building and fix the predicament. All it took was the afternoon spent at your place heaped in blankets, bingeing on Netflix and snuggles with Derek and pizza.

Nobody told you that while all the maintenance tango/elevator hellscape was going on, that it left – the very human, very unable to perform parkour (and survive) down several dozen stories – Stiles Stilinski, on the level of the loft. It also left Stiles alone, and very unsupervised, and to lead said young man to eat all your Doritos…and leave a mess through Derek’s DVD collection.

But that didn’t really matter.

In conclusion, really, Doritos could be bought. DVDs scattered around the living room could be cleaned up. The stairs could be fixed, the elevator regularly maintained to avoid that mishap. But the worth of your lives, was greater than all the above. Even if it meant going to counselling and therapy to work toward a neutral zone with your fear. Even if it meant that the whole pack knew about your problem. It was okay. It just meant that there was a whole pack of teen wolves and other Halloween-esque creatures looking out for you.

And for you (the human who studied history teaching who never thought they’d really amount to anything that mattered because of that silly fear); it was good. Better than good, in fact; it was great.

[ark-of-eden]

Fanfics for Appreciation.

(R:) This is, by no means, an exhaustive list of every awesome fic author or awesome fic that I love, because that is a huge list and I am honestly writing the following recs based on what comes up first in my mind or in my collections and how long I can write this before my brain melts. ^^;; Please do not assume that if you aren't below then I don't read or like your stuff; if you write fic, assume that I love you and you deserve all the treats and affection. :D

Uh, just for the record, in the course of compiling this list, I learned that I seem to like more darkfic than I thought I did, so...C_C;;;

The World's Translated Thus by Abyssal1/Aleph_Abyssal: I believe that @12_drakon deserves thanks for reuploading the PDF in Google docs? The above link is literally the only place I can find it anymore. The prequel, Red Letter Days, is downloadable here in EPUB. This fic is one of the famous ones, IIRC. I love it because it has the very best alien worldbuilding for G1 Cybertron that I have ever read. This is one of the fics that is so well-contained that I feel like I could easily rec it to anyone who knows nothing about Transformers and they would be able to grasp it all just fine, provided that they were cool with the quantum alien goo sex and tons of angst. (And if anyone out there knows what Abyssal1's pro name is, tell me so that I can buy the shit out of her novels and whatever else she's writing these days.)

The collected works of Anax (Imperator): Anax is technically on AO3, but most of his TF fics remain on LJ. All existing chapters of Five Million Years are there, while only eight were ever uploaded to AO3; LJ also holds the two incomplete sequels. Please send ups to this dude so he will Rite Moar because he is brilliant. His worldbuilding is magnificent, depicting early-war military life with all sorts of brilliant politicking and character interactions.

Starcrossed Duology by gatekat & Verilidaine: Another infamous fic, IIRC. Amazing character development and breadth of story, and the most tearjerky ending I have ever seen on a fic. The first fifth to fourth of the main story is the most soul-numbing stretch of extended horror and torture that I've experienced (and I have read quite a bit of horror and torture), but the really great thing is that the echoes of those events continue for the rest of the entire fic, shaping the lives of the people involved and prompting a very realistic recovery/adaptation in the wake of the trauma. The rest of what these two wrote together is also good; I especially like Judicium and The Making and Breaking of a Trine, but all of their work is hugely detailed. (Just really pay attention to those tags.) For even more of the even more if you find that you need more, search gatekat's immense outpouring for the more. There is so, so much. x_x

Borealis by tainry: This fic is amazing. It starts with the discovery of how the Bayverse Cybertronians can reproduce after the loss of the Allspark and a way of turning salvaged human minds into new Cybertronians, and then it expands through ages of time and cultural advancements until it's beautiful and huge. Science and technology are wrapped into the setting with special skill so all the tech feels believable.

Sound and Fury Series by fractalserpentine & HopeofDawn: One of my favorite pieces of fiction ever, and another series that I could rec to non-TF-fans and feel confident that they wouldn't lose their grip on the setting. This is some goddamn beautiful worldbuilding focused on the culture of carrier and symbiote mecha with Soundwave and friends as a focal point. I cannot overstate how great the work on the setting and characterization is. Even cooler, the "interfacing" in this whole series is asexual (based on data transfer) and is intimate without being truly erotic. The end of this series wraps up in the end of the Giants of the Earth series (another badass piece that I, being ignorant of Iron Giant media, didn't expect to like as much as I did).

Domesticus Series by femme4jack, fractalserpentine, HopeofDawn, and Sakiku: The premise is that Earth is exporting humans to be turned into sex slaves for Cybertronians who don't see them as sapient beings. But the stories are way more than shallow xenoporn (though there's plenty of that in many lovely forms). Various Cybertronians end up learning more about the human species and work for greater human rights, especially after humans and Cybertronians are discovered to have a natural symbiosis.

Everything written by peacewish: She is intimidatingly brilliant. These Games We Play is the main story, and it's such a carefully-crafted epic in which Soundwave becomes too attached to Jazz (his postwar slave) and there is a great deal of politicking among the Decepticion elite, plus the small-scale mind games in which Jazz and Soundwave jockey for power in their relationship. It's so complex and it unfolds so perfectly.

Book of Hours by Kemmasandi: An in-progress fic that I love because of all the careful attention to worldbuilding (probably you can see a theme to my picks here). Cybertronian society and technology are written in a natural, effortless way that makes the whole setting feel very alive, and the characters are so well-crafted. I've yet to come across another fic that does the prewar development of Orion and Megatronus' relationship so believably.

Across the Great Divide Series by dragonofdispair and Rizobact: I freaking love this series to bits because it addresses disability in such an interesting way. Prowl has a sensory issue that makes it painful for him to touch anyone, but he wants to have a relationship with Jazz and they make it work. Involves other people learning about and respecting a disabled person's needs and a couple working to accomodate one partner's difficulties for mutual pleasure. Also cool cultural details and robot Mafia.

what you are in the dark by Enfilade: This is actually my favorite one-shot fic, the one I think of first after setting aside all those epic Great Cybertronian Novel fics mentioned above. The appeal for me is the simple setup of erotica in which one person cannot see and the other doesn't speak. The descriptions and everything else about this fic just amaze me... It's beautifully executed and I hold it very, very close to my heart.

Soooooo many other things by Enfilade: There's just...so damn much here to love...TT^TT The agonizing denial desert of These Shackles You Forged, the great character interactions in Mend What is Broken, the more great character interactions enhanced by extra added Tarn and Deathsaurus in On My Dark and Lonely Side... It's all so good. It's all so painfully good. TTT^TTT

oh god so many things by ultharkitty i'm pretty sure i have a problem: I confess that my favorite pieces by her are the extremely twisted ones that are permutations on the theme of sociopathic monster Vortex fixating on innocent angel First Aid. I'm just gross with how much I love the things she does with that pairing purely because it's her doing that pairing; otherwise, I couldn't give a damn about Vortex/First Aid. I have to make some specific recs here: -- Mind Games and Dream Fragments: The Fave. Vortex is cruelly kind in giving First Aid what he wants the most. -- What You Wish For: If you can handle very dark darkfic, PLEASE READ THIS. It's actually Vortex/Dead End, but the main storyarc involves Dead End becoming addicted to the experience of other people's deaths and eventually graduating to terrible misuse of spark bonds. All the characterization is razor-sharp, the pacing is perfect, the character development is wow, and the ending is inevitable. I love this horrible lump of pain. -- Rain: Sad, minimalist story of fallout from fraternization. -- The Wages of Compassion: First Aid sparkbonds with Vortex to save his life, and there is some twisted Combaticon culture and First Aid literally reformatting a dude. Characterization is lovely despite how dark this is. -- Euphoria: A non-war, sane-Vortex AU in which First Aid gets a membership at an exclusive kink resort and Vortex is his amazing dom. Downright cockle-warming!!

An Education by zuzeca: Sequel to Fading Embers by spaceliquid. Galvatron starts brooding after battlefield sex with Optimus and Cyclonus, worried that he won't ever be able to satisfy his lord again, starts taking pleasure lessons from the Prime. It sounds like it should be lolcracky, but it's actually gentle and bittersweet with very lovable characters. This is one of the fics that I keep rereading every so often because I enjoy experiencing it that much. Zuzeca's Pillars of the Temple series is also several stories of TFP AU win that include too much awesome to sum up here.

Fics and Fears by 12drakon: Damn, I love this fic so, so much. The underpinning of the whole thing is the function of fiction in different areas of life. Some people use it to cope with past trauma, others to spin events in their favor, others to prop themselves up with hero fantasies... It's like fanfiction about the concept of fanfiction, but the TFP story packaging it all is really great too.

Robots, Robots Everywhere Series by oriflamme: Each fic is very different in nearly every way, but holy shit, her use of language and world design is just amazing. I wish I could be more specific, but every story really is too different to write a capsule of the whole thing. :P IT GOOD. READ.

Just about everything by spockandawe: It took a bit for me to get used to the second-person narration, but the stories are so great that any delivery method is perfect. I love the character interaction. I love the narrative voice (it constantly makes me want to read them out loud because the language she uses is so fun). The sad bits are piercing but beautiful.

War Without End Series by AzarDarkstar & dracoqueen22: Finally, a series based on the enormous question of why Bayverse Optimus is so chill about his people getting killed and why he keeps bending in favor of the humans to the point of destroying his own species. The other Autobots are just as disturbed by these events. Eventually, Autobots and Decepticons gravitate together to save their own kind and learn to reproduce without the Allspark. This series is just designed and executed in a damn cool way.

Prisoner by hellkitty: I have such a soft spot for this one because it focuses on linguistic differences between Autobots and Decepticions that have developed over the war. The POV is of a human grad student who is given the injured Starscream to study because the Autobots and NEST don't care about her research.

Just about every other damn thing by hellkitty: For your convenience, the above link goes to the first of the 19 pages of fic she has. Just chug those damn things. Most aren't very long. Also, it's hard to pick out certain ones to rec without my notes elsewhere, because she tends to not include descriptions or link related stories into series, so reading oldest to newest is how to get most things in order. :/ I remember her fondly because she writes quite a bit of prewar Drift (including interesting stories of how poverty and sex work manifest in Rodion) and Deadlock, and I am just ragingly onboard for that content. Be aware that there's some twisted stuff in places, especially with her super toxic Turmoil/Deadlock. One specific rec I might make would be Meridian, a fairly dark AU in which Deadlock really did sell out the Knights and took Wing as a war prize when he returned to the Decepticons.

Upon a Star Series by dracoqueen22: I love this series so much. It makes my heart tender and my eyes tear up. TT_TT It really does feel like a fairytale and I love all the tiny details about Prowl and Sunstreaker and even poor, desperate Starscream. Turbocharged comfort fic like a fuzzy pillow fort.

So many things by Lycaste: There's just so many damn delightful pieces here. It helps that a lot of it has to do with the DJD and the like. XB Wired for Action, The Autobot Justice Division, Cry Havoc (In Quatrains), and Sibling Rivalry are some of my very favorites. After spending too much time stuffing my brain with darkfic, I really need well-written humor, and these are definite repeat reads.

Nearly everything by Owlix: Owlix writes a little bit of everything. I recall a lot of his pieces being small, carefully-made sketches of character interactions.

Dear Lies Series by dracoqueen22: I honestly like this one not because I enjoy the dynamic, exactly, but because it shows how insidiously and gradually abusive elements can enter into a relationship. Features Jazz as the too-intense antagonist. (TBH, I have a weird liking for fics in which Jazz is subtly or overtly sinister.)

And I'm pretty sure everybody likes something from Bibliotecaria_D: You can't really go wrong with her work. ^^ Highlights in my mind include White Lies (great postwar DJD sads), Constructicon Lite (Constructicons feeding Prowl), Gone Fishing (the wonderful adventures of the guy with Megatron's voice), Walk the Line (realistic, educational BDSM fic), and Playing the Long Odds (another cool realistic story about falling in love with friends and how that changes things).

There are so damn many more but my eyes are starting to get blurry from too much shuffling around in my archives. =_= I love all you wonderful fic writers. You bring me so much joy.

[maychorian]

Weekly Voltron Fic Recs #18

Rules: You can find past rec lists here. This is stuff I like, and I have a huge bias toward Lance, hurt/comfort, and general fluff, in that order. Gen unless otherwise noted. Please comment on the fics if you read and enjoy them!

Day 2: Home by genocidalCatgal Words: 1,440 Author's Summary: Blue is the best thing that has ever happened to Lance. My Comments: Suuppper cute bonding fic with Lance and Blue, early in their relationship. I love this emotional boy his giant robot cat. Also, very cool stuff about the past blue paladin.

Parasite Knight by VelkynKarma Words: 42,721 (WIP 7/14 AND UPDATING ALMOST DAILY) Author's Summary: “You may refuse all you like, Champion, but I have found the one thing in the universe that can be absolutely counted on is that everything that exists desires to survive. Even you. Perhaps especially you.”Something’s not right with Shiro, but it may go far deeper than anybody anticipated. My Comments: Holy crap on a cracker, this fic is EVERYTHING. It’s hurt/comfort and sickfic and team bonding and we’re only halfway through and it is SO incredible already. The insights into just everybody are amazing, and everyone has an important role in tackling this seemingly insurmountable problem. Hurry, hurry, read it now so you can catch every update as they come out. This fic is making the wait for Season 2 bearable.

Stoplight by acryology Words: 1,674 Author's Summary: When Coran and Allura learn about the game of "Red Light, Green Light" from the paladins, they all decide to play a few rounds as a "training exercise". My Comments: Cute team bonding!

all alone, all together by seules Words: 1,516 Author's Summary: This is bigger than anything he ever imagined. Lance knows the world’s balls deep shitty, so it’s not much of a stretch for the universe to take a crap and coat itself in it, only in a much larger scale. But it’s different when you’re told that the universe as you know it is about to be completely taken over by a tyrannical, fascist madman (surprise, surprise) and Obi-Lance Kenobi, you’re 1/5 of the universe’s only hope! My Comments: Aww, Lance and Allura bonding! I’m astounded that mine is the only comment on this fic. Please read it and encourage the writer.

The Ones We Leave Behind by psiten Words: 2,894 Author's Summary: In between all the bleeding and fighting, time for reading and writing. "Hey..." The unmistakable sound of a thought appearing in Lance's brain, like the proximity of magnetic force summoning an electric charge out of nothingness. "Wait a second, Pidge... your human name was Katie Holt, right?" "Um. My birth name was Katie, or Katherine anyway. I never stopped being human, thanks." Originally written for the PROJECT: PALadins gen zine (December 2016). My Comments: This fic was absolutely worth paying money for, but if you couldn’t afford it, lucky for you it’s available now!

A Little Unsteady (Hold Onto Me) by DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee Words: 13,385 Author's Summary: Takashi Shirogane is nine years old when he holds his brother for the first time. “I’m here,” he’d whispered to his fussing baby brother, “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.” And Keith stopped crying. He didn’t laugh; he looked up at Shiro with big, skeptical eyes. A challenge. Like this tiny person was saying ‘oh yeah, prove it’. And Shiro, newly nine years old, promised that he’d prove it. Shiro and Keith's childhood in moments. My Comments: Modern setting AU, but with a few tweaks I could absolutely see this working in canon-verse. It’s incredibly touching and well-written, and Shiro’s development from reluctant child to fiercely protective big brother was beautiful to watch. Both boys went through a lot of heartache, but by the end they’re together, and you know they’re going to be okay.

accidental by EmmaLuLuChu Words: 2,768 Author's Summary: one word prompt from a writing sprint in which a thing happens and it is Rough. My Comments: This is angsty but somehow hopeful at the same time. The team will not give up on Shiro. Ever.

this decay, this hope, this mouthful of dirt by lacking Words: 9,490 Author's Summary: Sendak steps closer and Shiro thinks about statistics —the insurmountable odds against Sendak being discovered in the void of space, the passing ship being Galra and not some scavenger. Pidge or Hunk could probably devise some kind of equation to highlight the absurdity of it, lay out in a spectacular display of numbers just how bad Shiro’s luck really is. Or: captured by the Galra and awaiting rescue, Shiro's forced to confront who he was, how he's changed, and what that means about the person he's become. My Comments: This one is stunning. The non-linear storyline really enhanced the confusion and incoherence in Shiro’s mindscape, and all of the memories and present scenes were well-woven and important. Especially loved the bits with the paladins together, and the ending was perfect. 

So Small and Significant by Hedgi for Meriadoc Words: 2,275 Author's Summary: With everyone scattered, Shiro has to chose who to go after first, and it isn't much of a choice. He promised himself weeks ago not to fail the Holts again. He may have to go farther than he thought to keep that promise. My Comments: Shiro’s unthinking protectiveness of Pidge is absolutely in character, and their interaction was lovely. 

Surely Someday by 15Strawberries for buttered_onions Words: 3,437 Author's Summary: Lance and Hunk have a tradition. Every day after class, they find an empty classroom to jam in, to unwind from the stress of the day. It grows from there. My Comments: Adorable college/jazz band AU. I love how the group grew and developed and came to depend on each other, and the ending was absolutely heartwarming. It reminded me of my own college experience in a music program, and that’s not a bad thing at all. 

Sorry, Who Are You? by squirenonny for Piper Words: 5,643 Author's Summary: When Keith was seven years old, he spent a year in La Quinta with a boy named Lance, the best friend he ever had. Ten years later, Lance and Keith reunite at the Garrison--only Keith doesn't remember who Lance is. My Comments: Mild Klance. I like the way this deepens canon, giving Lance a real reason for being upset with Keith from the beginning, though Keith’s forgetting is understandable, too, considering his life. The ending was sweet and satisfying.

Save The Date by buttered_onions Words: 1,979 Author's Summary: Homesickness in space is no joke, and Lance isn’t the only one who needs cheering up. Luckily, Hunk’s got a Plan. …assuming he can get it to work. My Comments: This is absolutely precious. Everyone gets lifted up, in typical Hunk style, and he gets a turn, too. I especially loved the continuing saga of Coran’s birthday tootle.

boredom is cruel and unusual punishment by babitty Words: 3,183 Author's Summary: 3000 words of Lance getting the shit beat out of him, because i needed to get some angst out of my system. it's not very graphic but injuries are listed and batons are used. My Comments: This is an old-fashioned whump fic, where the point is very much Lance (and Keith to a lesser extent) getting beat up. But there’s a lot of courage and tenacity on display here, and they do very much feel like themselves. An enjoyable fic, if you’re in the mood for hurt with not a lot of comfort.

Let Him Rest by jadencross Words: 960 Author's Summary: Coran does so much for the team. And Keith thinks that it’s time he did something for his crazy space uncle. My Comments: Ah, and this is pretty much the opposite of the last rec, haha. Love Keith being the very definition of Aggressively Cares About You, and Coran needs a lot more love. Sweet fic.

strength of the small by nowweareunstoppable Words: 12,736 Author's Summary: A false distress signal lands the paladins in a tough situation. It falls to Pidge to earn their freedom, and it doesn't come without a dangerous cost. My Comments: This fic is AMAZING. Pidge is an absolute badass, smart and strong and extremely well-characterized. The frantic run afterward to get her to help was intense and wrenching, too. And Lance was especially wonderful. You can feel his desperation, how deeply he loves Pidge and needs her to be okay, because she’s his little sister now and he CANNOT lose his family. Ahhh, I loved this one to bits. Highly recommended.

Previously Recced Fics That Updated This Week:

When Rome's in Ruins by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions) The Final Act of Mercy by ptw30 bombs and bullets by ashinan Where No One Goes by earthstar The Lightning Strike by Merilindir Beast You've Made of Me by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions) He Sleeps in the Sky of Ice by jadencross Coming Undone by Emerald_Ashes Someplace Like Home by squirenonny Road Trip to End Times by VelkynKarma

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

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),

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.

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.

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.) 

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?)

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.) 

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.” 

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.