#and like i said last night we have our own fair share of fucked up fairy tales and folklore in the west

[spyres]

[nunyverse-scribe]

I need to graduate high school already so that I can be at peace with the fact that I will never have to hear abt my ex-girlfriend ever again.

[queensunshinee]

His favorite toy- Part 2 || Art Donaldson x reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (p in v sex, oral sex), super toxic relationship.

Word Count: 6.5k

(part 1)

His favorit toy- Part 2:

Two months have passed since the last time Art and I fucked. Although it wouldn’t be fair to call it that, because I don’t fully know what it was. I only know he said he thinks he loves me. Neither of us made the minimal effort to rekindle any kind of relationship. I kept sitting with Janet and Shane, and he stayed in his place next to the friend he invented.

Occasionally, if I focused, I could feel his gaze on the back of my neck, but maybe I was imagining it. Maybe I also imagined his declaration of love, maybe I lost my grip on reality for a moment. Maybe more water needs to flow under this bridge. Maybe Tashi Duncan needs to be his, like he is hers, so I can stop dreaming about him at night. How did I become so dependent on the emotions of a girl I have no desire to exchange a word with? How did I lose someone I’m not sure was ever mine? And more than anything- what made me spend so much time in this endless whining?

A few days after that party, Luke sat next to me in one of the classes we share. He looked so good that if I close my eyes, I can imagine it's Art. A remarkably pathetic thought, but it works. Except he isn’t cruel. He doesn't try to deceive me or lead me to the point he wants me to reach. He’s interested in me and my hobbies, and sometimes he walks me from class to class, but in these two months, he hasn’t made any move beyond placing his hand on my shoulder. Maybe he thinks I have lice. Maybe he thinks I won’t be good enough in bed to risk our boring conversations about the eco-intro professor.

Maggie, the girl I work with, canceled at the last minute, so I ended up alone at the smoothie station and the register. I took comfort in the fact that it's exam season and not too many Stanford students would prefer to stand in line for a smoothie instead of grabbing a spot in the library on a Sunday night. "The usual?" I heard Art’s voice and lifted my gaze from the book I was reading. I blinked at him a few times, as if trying to figure out if I was imagining his smug smile. Maybe it wasn’t smug, maybe that's just how he always smiles when he sees me. Like he knows a secret he’ll never tell me. "I..." I tried to hold onto the reality as I knew it, "I don’t remember," I smiled without showing teeth, half-forced.

"Peach—" he stopped himself in the middle of the stupid nickname. Apparently, he understood from my look that it wasn’t appropriate after two months of radio silence. "Almond milk, banana, pecan, and coconut," he mumbled. "That’s $4.50," he nodded. I wondered if he was surprised, because I’d never asked him to pay before. I’d always used the free smoothie I got during my shift on him. "How a—" he started to speak, and I turned on the blender, seeing out of the corner of my eye that he was smirking and shaking his head. "Fair," he muttered. "Here’s your smoothie. Goodnight," I handed him the cup after a few seconds, with the most forced smile I could muster. He rolled his eyes in response and sat down in one of the empty chairs.

"What do you think you’re doing?" I asked. "Sitting and drinking my smoothie, obviously," he spoke again as if I were two years old. Like I needed him to mediate reality for me because I couldn’t understand it on my own. "Do you see anyone else sitting here?" I asked. "Just because the tables are empty because it’s ten at night and you’re working in a cafeteria-" he began. "This isn’t a cafeteria. It’s the—" "Doesn’t mean I can’t sit at one of the tables and drink my smoothie. Or are there new rules I’m not aware of?" I rolled my eyes in response. Smug dickhead. I was definitely not going to give him a second of my time. I went back to the book I was reading for my philosophy exam, trying to ignore his presence but realizing I was reading the same sentence five times in a row.

"What are you studying?" he asked after a few minutes of silence. "Why are you doing this?" I threw the question back from behind the counter, sighing in frustration. "What am I doing?" The usual smirk was plastered on his face. "Why are you here on a Sunday night, Art?" If I could stomp my foot to express protest, I would. "Because you’re here on a Sunday night." The smirk turned into a smile. I couldn’t tell if it was sincere. I never know if he’s sincere.

"What do you want?" I rolled my eyes and sighed, realizing he wasn’t going to leave. I knew he was stubborn in an almost inspiring way (or nauseating, depending on who you ask) and that he was always at an advantage with me. He always had the last word. All I had left was to let him say it quickly and move on with life. "To ask how you're doing?" he half said, half asked. He sounded hesitant, but I knew he wasn’t. I knew he was as confident as any other day. He knew exactly what he was doing. "Amazing. Anything else?" I found myself crossing my arms under my chest and saw him, without shame, shift his gaze, well… to my chest, raising an eyebrow.

"Arthur!" I felt like I was his aunt as he shook his head, almost playfully. "I missed you, Peaches. Is that so hard to believe?" He chuckled, still completely shameless. "Well, I didn’t." That was the first thing that came to mind, and the face Art made, along with the eye roll, only emphasized how much he didn’t believe me. "Why are you so mad at me?" His voice was amused as he approached the counter with his smoothie, grabbing the book I was reading without asking. "What course is this?" "Philosophy," I snatched it from his hand, and he grabbed mine with the speed of an athlete who works too much with his hands. "Let go," I muttered, not sure if I wanted him to release my hand or release me. But I was scared he'd agree and disappear again, and that was so fucking pathetic. "Never," he replied, keeping his gaze on me and giving my hand a squeeze. "It’s not fair, Art," I hated how my voice sounded. "What’s not fair?" he asked, tracing small circles on my hand the moment he felt me relax the muscle that had been trying to pull away from his touch. "What you're doing right now," I sighed. If he weren’t in front of me, I probably would’ve started crying out of frustration. "What am I doing right now?" The smirk was once again plastered on his face. "Trying to convince me everything's okay between us," I hesitated, and he shook his head from side to side. "Nothing's okay between us, Peaches. I hate it. I actually hate it. I think about you 80% of the day. Every time I want to talk to you, you're either with your friends or with Luke." He wrinkled his nose as he said his name.

"Why do you know his name?" I asked, studying him. "Because I looked him up, and I'm telling you, Peaches, he's fucking weird—" "You're fucking weird," I shot back, and he laughed, trying to move the hair from my face with his free hand. "Well, maybe you like us weird, maybe you've got a type," he tried to joke, making me roll my eyes. "Who said I like you, Donaldson?" I tried to defend myself, and Art wasn’t laughing anymore. He wasn’t smiling either. He just looked at me, not letting me read his expression. His hand, which had been playing with mine, tightened its grip, and his gaze locked onto me as if I was on trial for the words that just came out of my mouth.

"Let’s study for the statistics exam together tomorrow?" He changed the subject, not breaking his intense gaze. "Art—" "Study for the exam. Just that. I won't pass it if you don't help me," he flashed his most charming smile. The one he fakes in seconds. The one he uses for interviews with the Stanford magazine and in photoshoots for the tennis team posters. "Study with Dylan," I suggested, raising an eyebrow, referring to the imaginary friend he chose to sit with instead of me. "You want me to beg?" he asked, poking my shoulder with his finger, causing me to shift slightly but still not letting go of my hand. "Maybe," I teased. "I can. My ego will survive if you study with me for statistics tomorrow." He said it quicker than I expected.

"I have a philosophy exam at eight. Can you do twelve?" I asked. "I can when you can. Where’s the exam? I’ll wait for you," he said. "Meet me at the economics library. There’s a room where you’re allowed to talk if you’re working in groups," I explained my choice. "That’s ridiculous. Let’s study at your place or mine—" "We’ll study at the library, take it or leave it," I stated firmly, even though the temptation to go to his dorm was strong since he never invited me. We always went to mine. "Library it is," he agreed. "What’s your philosophy exam about?" he asked, finally letting go of my hand, which had been holding the book I was studying from. "Aristotle and eudaimonia. What he thinks about happiness," I muttered, opening my notes again. "What does he think about happiness?" Art asked, leaning on the counter. "You wouldn’t get it," I smiled at him, and saw him nod with a somewhat thoughtful look, as if his combative spirit and desire to argue had evaporated the moment I agreed to study statistics with him. "Tomorrow at twelve, Peaches. Don’t break my heart and ditch me," he threw into the air, leaving the booth with the same dramatic flair he had when he entered. . . . I walked into the economics library, which was packed with people. Art was already sitting there, messing with his phone more than with the notes in front of him on the table. He hadn’t noticed I’d entered, giving me the chance to observe him. His blonde curls fell over his eyes in a way that likely bothered him. He was wearing his red tennis outfit (the one I liked the most, I should mention) and looked carefree. He always seemed too relaxed, maybe that’s how it is when everything comes to you with an ease that’s almost disgusting.

"You need a haircut," I muttered the first thing that came to mind as I approached, seeing him look up immediately. "Hey," he said, smiling from ear to ear, "I saved a spot because I knew it’d be crowded," he added. "How long have you been sitting here?" I asked as I took the seat next to him. "Since about ten," he chuckled, probably at himself, "How was the exam?" he asked. "Long. Have you gone over any of the material?" Yesterday, I decided I’d be practical. I’d promised to help him, and honestly, I always understood the material better myself when I explained it to him. And if Art Donaldson could take advantage of my knowledge in statistics, then I could take advantage of the situation too. Not just him. "A little, I pretty much lost track in the middle of the course." Art had taken this course as an elective. I always found it funny because who takes statistics as an extra class when it’s not even required for their degree?

"What, Kevin didn’t let you copy his notes?" I looked at him with a raised eyebrow, and he lightly tapped my shoulder. "You’re mean. Since when are you so mean?" he responded with a humor I couldn’t fully read, unsure if he was joking or if part of him actually thought there was some cruelty in me. Maybe it was the philosophy exam I couldn’t shake off. Obsessive thoughts about happiness and potential. "I’m going to get myself some coffee, want me to bring you something?" I asked, changing the subject. "Sit down, get settled, I’ll get it for you," he nodded toward me and stood up, not giving me a chance to refuse before he disappeared from my sight, leaving me alone.

Art Donaldson will be the end of me. I’m certain of it. "My brain is fried, Donaldson. I can’t look at any more averages," I summed up after two hours of studying. "Yeah? Already gave up?" he asked, amused. "I remind you that I had an exam today! I don’t think I’ve eaten anything other than my own brain," I tried to remember what I’d actually eaten today. "So let’s go eat something," he smiled. His eyes practically sparkled. "Art," I sighed, resting my head on my hand. "What? We can’t go have lunch?" he asked with mock innocence. Speaking to me again like I was a child. Like I didn’t understand what he’d already figured out long ago. "No, of course not," I wanted to smack him on the head as if he were the dumbest person I knew. "I can’t let you stay hungry, Peaches, my grandmother would be mad at me," he quickly replied. Where was your grandmother every time you humiliated me to the core? Every time you made me feel empty and stupid? So stupid. "Your grandmother will survive," I rolled my eyes. "She’s a very sick woman, you don’t know that. I’ll tell her I let you starve and she’ll have a stroke. You won’t be able to live with that on your conscience. You’ll drag us into lives full of guilt—" "Okay, you’re giving me a headache, God," I mumbled, standing up. Art Donaldson’s smug smile returned to his face in an instant.

That’s how I found myself sitting across from him at the fancy cafeteria for athletes, eating nuggets after the woman working there flirted with him and gave me a threatening look. "Don’t hate Rosie, she always gives me extra pie," he said after I pointed out that she looked at me like I was the reason the Beatles broke up. "Because she wants to sleep with you," I rolled my eyes. "So she has a reason to look at you like that. Makes sense," he replied with a chuckle. "Okay, what is this?" I dropped the nugget I was holding and pointed between us as I leaned back in my chair. "What?" he continued eating as if nothing unusual was happening. "What are you doing, Art?" I asked, feeling my leg start to shake out of frustration.

"I’m eating and making sure you’re eating," he replied, taking another bite of his food, as if we were having a completely normal conversation. "We’re not going to fuck again just because you invited me to eat nuggets at the cafeteria, you know that, right?" I blinked at him, trying to signal that he was delusional. "Of course not," he said, leaning back in his chair as well. "I have principles, Donaldson," I continued. "I know," he smiled. "I’m not some girl you found on the street that you can treat however you want, disappear for two months, invite her for nuggets, and she’ll take off her bra just so you can vanish again until the next time you’re horny," my voice rose a bit, despite my effort to keep it calm. I saw his jaw tighten, his expression shifting from amused to cold. "Is that what you think this is?" he asked, and all I could do was shrug.

"It’s not like you’ve given me any reason to think otherwise, Art," I looked at him and felt that if I stayed there much longer, I’d start crying. "I told you that I lo—" he began, but I stood up. "Thanks for lunch, it’s definitely nicer than the regular cafeteria," I forced a smile, and he closed his eyes. "You didn’t eat anything," he replied. If I focused, maybe I could have seen his frustration growing. But I was trying to focus on not crying. Art Donaldson’s ego didn’t deserve to see me cry over him again. "I’m really tired, I need to sleep a bit before my shift," I mumbled. "Will you come to my match tomorrow?" he asked quietly. "Art—" "You don’t have to, but I’m saving you a seat, okay?" he cut off my answer, not wanting to hear a refusal, maybe not believing there was a bone in my body capable of saying no to him. . . . And it’s a little pathetic how I ended up walking onto the tennis court the next day, giving up the last shred of my self-respect. I was surprised to see how many people showed up to these things, especially at the end of exam season and right before the break. The place was packed.

‘You came’ -A- I got his message and tried to look around, searching for where he might be. ‘Down on the court’ -A- I could practically see his smirk in the words. I glanced toward him and shrugged. ‘Front row, saved you a seat next to Patrick’ -A- he added.

‘What the fuck is Patrick?’ -(Y/N)- I replied, not moving toward where he told me to go.

‘A friend. Please sit there.’ -A- He answered shortly. ‘Want to lift my head and know where you are’ -A- And when he says things like that, I almost forget how cruel he can be. So I find myself rolling my eyes and walking toward the seat he saved for me.

"Are you Patrick?" I mumbled, feeling my cheeks flush from the awkward interaction with the guy sitting next to the empty seat. "Depends who’s asking," the curly-haired guy responded, flashing a mischievous half-smile. I can see why they’re friends. Fucking twelve-year-olds in the bodies of twenty-year-olds, how is that even possible?! "Don’t be a dick," we heard from down below, and I turned to see Art approaching us. "Who’s this?" the guy I didn’t know asked, as if I wasn’t standing right there—seriously, rude as hell, but whatever. "Patrick, behave," Art wasn’t joking, not even smiling, scolding him like you’d scold a misbehaving pet. "You came," Art looked me over, grinning from ear to ear. "Don’t let it go to your head, I had some free time," I muttered, sitting down. Art nodded. "Will you stay after the game?" he asked. I think it was the first time Art had to look up to talk to me. "I don’t know, I need to keep studying for statistics," I answered. "Me too," he replied. "We’ll study together," he shrugged, not giving me a chance to respond before he walked off, taking his position. Getting ready to serve.

“Interesting,” the guy next to me said. “What exactly?” I asked, rolling my eyes and still not looking at him. “You, of course,” I could hear him smiling. “What’s so interesting about me?” I kept staring into the air, unsure if I should focus on Art, who still hadn’t started playing, or the phenomenon sitting next to me. Arrogant, just like the blond guy who’s been emotionally torturing me for months. “Well, first of all, I’ve never heard of you. You’re a surprise,” he said as if it was obvious. And it stung a little, even though I knew the chances of Art talking about me were slim to none. “Maybe you’re the problem, Pete,” I muttered, snapping my fingers like I was trying to recall his name. “Patrick,” he corrected, laughing, making me look at him. He had a loud laugh, unapologetic. I knew his name was Patrick, and he knew I knew, but he still found it amusing.

“Maybe you’re the surprise,” I told him. “He doesn’t talk about you either.” I tried to sound unaffected, like everything was fine. The game started, and Art looked distracted. Maybe he always looks like that when he plays tennis- I’ve never watched his games before, he’s never invited me. “You’re supposed to watch the other side too,” Patrick whispered in my ear, causing me to roll my eyes. “Hey, Stats Girl,” I heard the familiar voice of Tashi Duncan just before she sat next to Patrick, cursing the day I decided to trust Art Donaldson and show up at his game. “The one and only,” I muttered with the best smile I could muster, feeling myself blush at the ridiculous nickname she gave me. “How’s he doing?” she asked Patrick. I wondered what their connection was. “He’s good, you know, as usual. Ice.” he replied, and they started talking quietly about the game, about Art, and about the opponent.

All I could think about was how good Art looked. He looked as if everything came to him effortlessly, as if he didn’t need to try for anything—everything just happened. And I knew that wasn’t true, I knew he worked hard, trained, ate properly, invested in his studies, and that he was probably a good grandson and a good friend. He was good to everyone except me. “Are you enjoying the game?” Tashi asked, pulling my gaze away from Art for a moment. “Huh?” I asked, not understanding what she wanted. “The game, are you enjoying it? He’s playing well,” she clarified. “Yeah, he’s really good,” I mumbled. I didn’t know what else to add to make it sound convincing. “Leave her, Tash. She doesn’t know anything about tennis, she’s his cheerleader,” Patrick answered her, snickering. I shot him a murderous look. “Patrick, don’t be rude,” Tashi said, “I’m sorry about him, he doesn’t know how to behave around people,” she turned to me, as if he wasn’t there. “It’s fine,” I replied, feeling my leg start to shake from the frustration. They went back to talking about the game, and I suddenly felt how pathetic it was, showing up to watch him play. To come and see him in his element, when he wasn’t part of my life anymore. When his friend sat next to me, mocking me to my face. “I’ll be right back…” I mumbled, walking toward the exit. I had no intention of coming back. . . . Two hours later, there were chaotic knocks on my door. “You left,” Art walked in without waiting for an invitation the second I opened the door. He looked angry. “I told you I didn’t know if I’d stay, I have an exam tom-” “Bullshit. What’s your deal? Why did you come?” He practically shouted as I closed the door. “You asked me to come,” I mumbled. “I also asked you to stay, but you left in the middle, so what was the point of you coming?” He crossed his arms. I don’t think I’d ever seen him this angry. He’s always calculated and calm. “Did he say something?” he added, asking a question. “What?” I returned, not understanding what he was talking about. “Patrick, did he say something to you? Why did you leave?” He asked again, speaking to me like I was a child. “He didn’t say anything to me. I left because I didn’t understand what I was even watching. I don’t know anything about tennis, Art, and I have an exam to study for,” I tried to justify. “Enough with that exam. I heard you studying for it yesterday, you know the material, we both know you know it.” He sighed. “I didn’t ask you to come to give tennis commentary. I asked you to come because I wanted you in the crowd. I wanted to see you in the crowd,” he continued. I could hear the effort in his voice to keep it together, to not lose control.

“Tashi was in the crowd; that should be enough for you,” I muttered, lifting my gaze to him, seeing that he was already staring at me. We had never talked like this about Tashi. She had always been this figure hovering above us. He talked about her constantly, unrelated to anything. He talked about her like she was a god. He talked about how she played tennis, about her training, how she helped him. He talked about parties he only went to because Tashi wanted to go. But I never responded in a way that would let him understand that I knew. That I wasn’t completely clueless. That I knew he was completely in love with her. That he loved her the way I loved him and that nothing would change that. “Oh, so that’s the problem. You could’ve started with that. It bothered you that Tashi was in the crowd?” He chuckled. He fucking chuckled. “Why did it bother you?” He moved closer to me, and I had no choice but to avert my gaze from his piercing blue eyes, which felt like bullets at that moment. “It didn’t bother m-” “Look at me.” He was close enough to grab my head and turn it back to face him. “I asked you a question,” he added, not letting me escape. And if there’s anyone I didn’t want to talk about, it’s Tashi Duncan.

“Why did you invite me? Why did you want me in the crowd?” “Because I wanted you to see me play,” he answered without blinking, as if it was obvious. As if there wasn’t a single question I could ask him that he wouldn’t have an answer for. “You love Tashi, Art. You lo-” His lips were on mine the second I said it. Again, there was nothing calm or calculated about this kiss. He was trying to prove that he didn’t, that I was wrong. While we both knew I was right. “You can’t say things like that, Peaches. You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he mumbled as he pulled away from me to catch a breath. “It’s okay that you love her. I’ve made peace with it. I just need you to let me move on, Art,” I sighed, trying to catch my breath again. “I don’t fucking love her.” He was angry; I could hear it in his voice. “What do I have to do to make you understand that you’re the only girl for me?” He kissed me again, and I could feel him getting hard from the way he pressed against me, causing me to moan into his mouth. “Yeah? Is this the only way I can get through to you? Is this the only way you believe me?” he asked, running his lips down my neck. "Art," it was half a moan, half a cry. My eyes closed, and as they did, I felt the weight of his hands on my shoulders, pulling me down until I was on my knees in front of him. I unbuttoned his jeans and quickly pulled down his boxers. I felt almost possessed as he sat on the edge of my bed, forcing me to crawl toward him. “There we go. Is this the only way I need to treat you for you to understand your place?” he muttered as I knelt before him again. I felt a light slap on my cheek from his cock, much more humiliating than painful. “I asked you a question,” he continued.

“N-no,” I mumbled. “Even your voice is annoying me right now,” he muttered, and without warning, I felt his cock in my mouth. He didn’t give me a moment to adjust, punishing me for leaving the match, maybe for bringing up Tashi, maybe for everything combined. You could never tell with him. I felt him hitting the back of my throat, and I tried to suppress my gag reflex with little success. Three months since he’d been in my mouth showed signs. “Shhh, you can do better than that,” he half-stroked my hair, half-held me in place by it. Then he pulled me back, leaving a trail of spit and precum. “You’re such a mess,” he chuckled, and again I felt a light slap of his cock against my cheek. I put my lips back where I knew he needed them the most, and this time, there was no gentle stroking of my hair. There was only a hand forcing me to stay in place as he used my mouth however he wanted. “Nothing to say now, huh?” he said, not very coherently, as I began to feel the warm, thick liquid spill into my throat. “Atta girl,” he patted my hair twice before letting me pull back.

I stood up slowly, trying to catch my breath. “Come here,” he mumbled, pointing to his thigh. I can’t refuse Art Donaldson, so I sat on his lap, placing my hands on his neck in an almost embrace, watching him smile. “Why is everything so hard with you?” he muttered, and his lips lazily found my neck. “I just don’t know what you want from me,” I responded, trying to focus on anything other than his lips currently on my collarbone. “I told you I love you,” he mumbled, his eyes locking onto mine. “You don’t mean that,” I shot back.

“Oh yeah?” His smirk spread across his face, and in seconds, he tossed me onto the bed as if I weighed nothing. He was above me. “For now, the one acting like a brat is you,” he said, his presence casting a shadow over me like a predator playing with its prey. “The one who left in the middle of my match is you.” His lips again left trails on my skin. I don’t even know when he took my shirt off. I felt a light bite on my nipple that made me moan. “Fuck, fa- Art,” I mumbled, unable to focus. “The one avoiding interaction with my friends is you.” His hand joined in, starting to torture my other nipple as his kisses moved further down. “I’m not,” I managed to respond, just as he easily removed my panties.

His breaths hovered over my pussy, short and hot, and if I didn’t know Art Donaldson so well, I would’ve thought he was looking up at me with almost a pleading expression. But he was in complete control. A small kiss on my lips, but not where I really needed him, made me shift my hips a little, and he chuckled- a laugh that was almost childlike. “Hey, ask nicely,” he managed to say, and I returned to the position I had before, legs around his head. “Please, Art,” I knew there was no point in arguing; he always got what he wanted in the end. “No problem, baby,” in seconds, his tongue was on my clit, starting slowly with circular motions and picking up speed with every moment. “There you go, you’re almost there,” he muttered, pulling back just before I could come. “What-” I tried to catch my breath again, craving the euphoria only he could give me at that moment. “I want to be inside you,” he answered without waiting for the full question, and in an instant, his cock filled me, making me moan. “Fuck,” I managed to mumble, feeling my eyes roll back. “Hold on a little longer, Peach,” he said, slipping his finger into my mouth like he liked to do, watching my lips close around it. “Now,” he muttered, pushing it deeper into my throat while he thrust into me, feeling me tighten around him like only an orgasm from him could make me do.

He fucked me stupid. There’s no other way to describe what I experienced, and as we both tried to catch our breath, I wondered how long it would take for him to leave this time and what his excuse would be. “Don’t you have practice tomorrow?” I quietly asked, trying to throw him off balance for a moment. “No, but I don’t know anything for the stats exam,” he admitted and chuckled. “Art! I taught you all the material yesterday,” I rolled my eyes. “I can’t concentrate when you’re teaching me.” “Then why did you ask for help?” It was my turn to laugh. “Because you’re the most beautiful when you’re in your element,” he shrugged like it was obvious. Like hearing me talk about statistics would make him fall in love with me. Like it wasn’t what I felt two and a half hours ago when he played tennis, until I almost choked on love.

“When are you going home?” he asked, probably knowing my last exam was in statistics. “I’m not,” I replied casually, and he quickly shifted positions. “Why the hell not?” he asked, and I saw a small wrinkle form between his eyebrows. “It’s no big deal, Donaldson,” I chuckled, “I picked up extra shifts, and I have a paper to work on. Speaking of shifts, I need to get ready for mine.” I added as I checked the time. He watched me as I walked around the room, trying to decide if I smelled too much like sex to push the shower until after work. “Are you coming to the study marathon tomorrow before the exam?” he asked, starting to get dressed too. “Of course,” I looked at him like he was crazy. “Don’t think about skipping it, Art. You need it,” I said, knowing exactly who I was dealing with. “Okay, Mom,” his voice was amused, and I rolled my eyes, looking at him for another moment. We don’t get too many moments like these. Almost domestic. Almost mine.

"Hey, we're good, right?" he suddenly asked, holding my hand and not letting me continue running around the room. "Yeah, Art, everything's fine," I smiled half-heartedly, feeling a bit embarrassed. "Because I don't want another two months like these," he muttered, and I knew it was hard for him to admit. It was hard for him to say that the past two months had been strange, to say the least. Difficult, to be honest. "Me neither." I nodded at him. "When are you flying home?" I asked as we were both already outside the door, after I had locked it. "Four hours after the exam, I’m supposed to be on a flight," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Wow, two weeks at home, excited?" I asked. "Not that much, mostly glad I get to visit my grandma. She follows my matches with her entire retirement home, it’s a big deal for her." "Ooooh, you've got fans, Donaldson?" I joked. "You know I do," he replied. "Seriously though, why aren’t you going home?" he added. "It’s not that deep, just an opportunity to make some extra money. Plus, my mom and I aren’t in the best place right now," I shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal. "Don’t you miss home?" he asked. "Not like most people probably do," I smiled at him. "I hate it when you smile like that," he said and suddenly stopped. "How?" I asked, looking at him as if he were crazy. "Without teeth. That’s your fake smile," he replied without blinking, as if it were strange that I was even asking. "I didn’t think you noticed," I mumbled. And I really didn’t think there was a possibility that Art Donaldson paid attention to details that, until now, I thought only I noticed about him. "I’ll see you tomorrow at the marathon?" he asked when we reached the point where I was supposed to head to the cafeteria and he to his dorm. "Don’t be late," I ordered, giving his face a small push, watching him chuckle and walk away from me. . . .

The next morning, I woke up with the worst headache I’d ever had in my life. I felt my nose was blocked, and I knew for sure I had a fever, though I had no way to measure it. 'Where are you?' -A-

'Sick, I’ll come for the exam' -(Y/N)-

'What’s wrong with you?' -A- I didn’t respond to that message, preferring to sleep a bit more before waking up for the statistics exam.

I got in the shower, and when I got out, I looked at myself in the mirror, seeing my flushed cheeks as a contrast to my pale face. There was no mistaking it when you looked at me- I wasn’t at my best. The auditorium was partially full when I entered, people chatting among themselves, and I looked around, seeing Art already staring at me before he approached, getting ahead of Janet, who shot me a questioning glance. "Well, you look like shit," he stated, placing his hand on my forehead. "Fuck, Peaches, you’re burning up," he muttered, looking at me with an almost angry expression. "How did you manage to start dying in the minute and a half I left you alone?" he said. "I’m talented, Donaldson. Can you not yell? My head hurts," I mumbled, sitting in the empty seat I found.

The exam went smoothly and ended faster than it began. I physically couldn’t wait for Art to finish, so I texted him, hoping he’d enjoy his time at home, and I went to sleep. Half an hour later, there was a knock at my door, chaotic like the one from the day before. "Hey," he muttered. "You’ll miss your flight," I replied, running a tired hand over my eyes. "I’m not flying," he said quickly. "What?" I asked, not understanding what he was talking about, seeing him take off his shirt and pants, left only in his boxers. "Art, I physically can’t have sex," I chuckled, not understanding what was happening. "We’re going to sleep," he declared, pulling me toward him, leaving me no choice but to get into bed next to him. "Your bed’s worse than mine. Tomorrow we’ll sleep at my dorm," he stated.

"You're going to get sick too" I rolled my eyes, "Why aren’t you going home?" I asked quietly, while his hand traced shapes on my shoulder. "It felt weird going home when you’re sick and staying here," he replied, not ashamed for a second. "Your grandma must be disappointed," I mumbled. "I told her my girlfriend is sick," he said. I wanted so badly to see his face, but I had my back to him. "She must’ve been surprised you have a girlfriend," I said the first thing that came to mind, feeling my heart race. "Not at all, I talk to her about you all the time."

. . .

So here it is. The second part I didn't plan. Hope you like it even tho I wrote half of it while being super sick and didn't check my own grammar at all, so bear with me (a reminder: English is not my first language). Let me know what you think. It's always the best part. Also, I think I'm up for some requests. Let's see what we can come up with. Love you guys

[winterrsun]

Comfort

Reader x Daryl Dixon

Warnings: Smut, 18+ only

A/n: This is smut but it’s like the fluffiest sappiest smut, it’s meant to be really emotionally gratifying. Also I’ve really kinda half heartedly set it up for a part 2 where they reunite with the group and Rick…let me know if you think I should continue this!

Summary: after the prison fell, you and Daryl start to mourn what you’ve lost and find comfort in each other, both emotional and physical.

————————————————————————

The last couple of weeks had been such a blur. After the prison fell, you were thrown back into survival mode and all sense of security was gone. You never knew where your next meal would come from, or whether you were minutes away from death. You were grateful you’d gotten out in the company of Daryl and Beth; you’d always gotten along with both of them and Daryl was one of the most experienced survivalists. It was nice having Beth to talk to and relate to the experience as well, neither of you being natural outdoorsmen. Even if he was a grumpy ass most of the time, and she was still a bit of a bratty teenager at heart, you’d fast grown extremely reliant on both of them being around you.

You’d all found a small shack to hole up in for a couple of nights, you’d also found a stash of moonshine in the cupboard. Beth had been insistent on trying her first drink. It made you both amused and sad when you compared her experience to your teenage party years, so while Daryl disapproved you thought it was only fair to have your own little party. That’s how the three of you ended up on the living room floor, laughing your heads off.

“Really Y/N, you never been camping?!” Beth questioned incredulously.

“Yer even more a princess than I thought” scoffed Daryl.

“Yeah yeah,” you laughed, “well I suppose my whole life’s a big camping trip now.”

“Alright alright, my turn!” Daryl exclaimed. “I never… bin to a wedding”.

“You what?! Daryl that’s just sad” you said before taking a large swig of the homemade booze.

“Yeah, even I’ve been to a couple. Only other time I drank any liquor, daddy let me have a glass of champagne” said Beth.

“What part of my life was a fucking shit show before all this do you two not get” he grumbled.

You rubbed his arm, “alright we know, just teasing you” you smiled.

Beth’s giggles turned to hiccups, and she eventually lay her head down on the sofa and you realised she’d gone to sleep.

You nudged Daryl and nodded at Beth. He smiled at you, and pointed to the singular bedroom in the shack- suggesting you and he should move into the other room so as not to wake her.

The room was small; a double bed took up almost all the floor space, so you plopped yourself down on it. Daryl followed, carrying the bottle of moonshine with him. He took a sip before passing it to you, who did the same.

“She’ll be right” he gestured to the door, referring to Beth in the other room.

“I know” you replied, “we’ve all been there, she just needs to sleep it off.”

He nodded and you fell into an easy silence, both taking additional sips now and then. You grew pensive, and some of the thoughts you’d been mulling around for days started to come to the surface. The tipsy haze in your brain had your lips moving before you even knew you wanted to share what was on your mind.

“I don’t think I’ve said it,” you said, looking to Daryl, “but I’m so grateful for the two of you. The amount of times I’ve wondered what kind of state I’d be in if I was on my own…”

“Can’t be thinkin like that” he replied gently.

“I know. It’s just, it makes me mad to think about how quickly our circumstances changed. Things were so good Dar, they were finally all coming together. And then…..it’s just nothing in this world can ever really work can it?” You were rambling a little, but Daryl didn’t look like he was going to challenge you or tell you to be quiet. He just looked at you sadly.

“Do you think we’ll ever see any of them again?” You whispered to him. A tear escaped your eye and started to trickle down your cheek.

“I don’t know” he replied, and to your surprise he reached towards your face and softly wiped the tear of your cheek, “but I’m glad we’re here together too”.

He didn’t remove his hand from your face, in fact he gently cupped your chin. You leaned into it, while his head dipped closer to you and he planted a soft kiss on your lips. You closed your eyes and allowed the sweet sensation to wash over you.

When he pulled back away he looked unsure of himself, and mumbled a “sorry” to you.

You shook your head, placed your hands on his chest and leaned back toward him, kissing him more deeply this time. His tongue crept into your mouth and started to dance with yours.

Your hands drew up behind his neck as the two of you continued, and he reached for your waist, pulling you into his lap. The kiss grew needier as you straddled him; it wasn’t a need driven by pure sex and physical desire. It was like all the emotions you’d been feeling since the prison poured into your movements, and Daryl lapped them up and returned them with his own. You could’ve been hugging, or crying in each others arms, but instead you were kissing and writhing against each others bodies and it had the same cathartic effect.

You clung onto him as he pulled his lips away from yours briefly, to gently and slowly peel your dirty shirt up from your body. You allowed him to manoeuvre your arms overhead so he could take it off and toss it aside. He then reached around and unclasped your bra, and took a moment to stare at and admire the sight before him.

“You’re beautiful” he almost whispered, starting to run his hands over your breasts and grope them lightly. “I’m gonna take care of you Y/N, I promise”.

You were almost overwhelmed at this moment of pure bliss. You’d never thought there’d be anything sexual between you and Daryl. He was one of your best friends, with a bond like family. Sure he was hot. You’d notice his biceps peaking out of that winged vest and your heart might’ve quickened slightly every time you saw the way he gripped his motorbike handles. But you’d always just been friends.

Let alone the fact that you actually had a thing with his best friend. You and Rick had never defined whatever it was between you, but there was denying when he snuck into your cell nearly every night who you belonged to.

But Rick was gone. You didn’t know where, or if he was even alive, or if you’d ever see him again. It played on your mind every single day. You missed him so much more than all the others, longed for him. You were sick of it eating at you, and you just wanted to feel good for the first time in weeks.

You clawed at Daryl’s shirt, and he took a break from massaging your breasts to help you remove the black tee from his body. You pressed into him as your lips found his again and you relished the feeling of his skin against yours. It felt warm and unbelievably comforting. He began to rub circles on the small of your back and you arched into his touch.

“Daryl” you breathed against his mouth.

“What do you need baby?” He asked, pulling back and grabbing your face in both of his hands, eyes searching yours.

“You…I just need you” you said pleadingly.

Daryl shifted beneath you and lifted you up to flip you onto your back on the bed.

He slowly pulled your pants down and hovered over your torso, looking at your cotton panties. He dipped down and placed a soft kiss on your abdomen, creeping along your hip line. You hummed and wriggled at the tickling sensation, enjoying it. You felt a warmth envelop you from his touches. Then his fingers hooked into the elastic around your waist and pulled the fabric down from your body.

He ran his hand back up your leg, his eyes following the movements before he flitted them up to your face. You made eye contact and he sought the non verbal confirmation that you were okay. You bit your lip in anticipation as you gazed up at him, allowing yourself to be completely vulnerable under his touch. Now fully naked on the bed.

You gasped as his fingers found their way into your fold, and began to gently stroke around. You flinched slightly as he ran over your clit for the first time, and he placed a kiss back on your lips, then trailing down your neck. He began drawing circles around your sensitive nub at a steady but not too fast pace and he lifted his head back up to study your face again.

“So beautiful” he commented. You arched your back off the bed and moan softly. He picked up the pace a little and your pleasure increased.

“Daryl” you gasped, “I need more. I want all of you”.

He nodded, stroked your hair with his free hand before withdrawing them both to unbutton and remove his pants. You lowered your eyes and watched as he freed his sizeable cock from his underpants. You sat up and leaned forward, glancing up at him with doe eyes before attaching your lips to his member.

He groaned as you took him in your warm, wet mouth. You suckled and licked around it, playing with him while lubing him up for you. His hands found their way into your hair, loosely gripping it while you bobbed your head back and forth. He threw his head back and savoured the sensation.

After a little while you pulled away and he gently pushed your shoulder so you lay back on the bed. He braced himself over you and lined himself up, gazing down into your eyes.

“I’m so glad you’re here” he whispered, hovering outside your entrance. You nudged your head up to plant a kiss on his lips.

“Me too” you said softly.

Then he slowly thrust into you. It ached just a little on the way in, but you quickly adjusted to him. For the first time in weeks you felt whole, and human, and like you were capable of something other than simply just surviving as he sank inside you.

You tensed around him and wrapped your legs around his body, which he took as a signal to start pumping his hips in and out of you. Warmth filled your body, radiating from your core to chest at the feeling of connection and intimacy. To your surprise, tears prickled your eyes as you felt emotionally stimulated as much as physically. You squeezed your eyes shut and bit onto Daryl’s shoulder, allowing his warm skin to absorb the moan that left you.

“Don’t need to keep too quiet pretty girl” he said encouragingly. You smirked and let go, noting the love bite you’d left behind before moaning out into the room this time as his hips continued to pound into you.

He pulled out briefly and you were left feeling empty and disappointed, just for him to gently grab your thigh and push your leg back towards your face, hooked behind his arm. He pushed back in and you relished the new, deeper angle.

“Fuuuck, yesss” you hissed and he smirked down at you.

“Feels good baby?” He cooed before grind his hips in a particularly deep thrust and you nodded, moaning in reply.

He picked up the pace now and you felt the heat grow in your belly, driven more by lust at this point. Your climax was building, and it was as if Daryl could tell. He drove into you faster than before, angling his hips upwards to hit just the right spot.

“Dar! I’m gonna” you began-

“I know baby, let go” he soothed.

With an almost scream you came, it rippled through you in waves and he rode it out with you. In this moment nothing else mattered, not the situation you were in, the home you’d lost, the people you’d been seperated from. It was just bliss for a perfect moment.

As your pleasure subsided Daryl snapped his hips into a few more hard times before grunting himself and moving to pull out of you.

“Don’t!” You cried without thinking, holding his hips to yours with your small hands. You felt his dick pulsate inside you as he painted your walls with his cum. It was the last, comforting gesture you wanted to take from him tonight. The feeling of him filling you up as much he possibly could.

His sweaty forehead met yours as he stopped moving, and you felt his penis jerk inside you one last time before all was still. You panted together for a few seconds, before he slowly rolled over to lay next to you.

You felt his ejaculate trickle out of you onto the bed, and groaned at the mess, grinning at him.

He looked around and grabbed a throw blanket from the end of the bed, using it to roughly wipe up you and the linen beneath you. You both chuckled, and he tossed it aside before throwing an arm around you and pulling you towards him to lay your head on his chest.

With your head on his bare skin and listening to the sound of his heart beat and the sensation of his breath rise and fall, you closed your eyes and fell asleep. He planted once last kiss to the top of your head before doing the same.

You woke with a start to the sound of birds chirping and sunlight beginning to creep in through the window, neck stiff from the angle you slept at. You felt chilly and looked down to see goosebumps over your bare body. Not just yours, you noted the extra limbs tangled with yours and remembered the situation you were in. You smiled to yourself, knowing that the amazing night was a once off for you both.

Daryl had just started to stir at your movements on the bed, before you heard movements in the other room. A female voice groaning, before stomping quick footsteps and the sound of coughing and liquid splashing the metal sink. Beth had arisen, and was experiencing her first hangover. You almost would have giggled, except you realised you had to get dressed quick and decide how to explain the two of spending the night in a small room with one double bed.

You looked back at Daryl, now fully awake and judging by the expression on his face thinking the same thing you were.

“Well, back to reality” you whispered with a shrug.

He pulled you in for one last embrace, planting a kiss firmly to your lips before whispering back “thanks for last night beautiful”.

[ashboy-3]

Smash or Pass

Fandom: Danny Phantom and Batfam Prompt: https://www.tumblr.com/help-i-need-a-cool-username/719653067055906816/ashboy-3-please-tag-me-whenever-you-post-it?source=share Characters: Danny, Sam, Tucker, Jason, Batfam Words: 1908 Summary: Danny refuses to sleep and gets stopped by a reporter. Not fully knowng what she aks when questioning him about Red Hood Danny answers with a simple Smash. Now if only his crush Jason Todd would pick up on the social cues.

“So what’s the game tonight?” Danny asked, looking at the screen of the video camera to see Tucker and Sam staring back at him.

“Are you sure Danny. Isn’t it like ten over there?” Sam asked, worry clearly on her face.

“It’s not a good night for sleep Sam. Please. You two both have the day off, right?” Danny asked.

“Yeah we do dude. So I was thinking Smash or pass?” Tucker threw the idea out there.

“Oh that’s a good one. What should we do it on?” Danny asked.

“Super smash bros? It has Smash in the name?” Tucker suggested.

“Then we should totally do Pokémon!” Sam had an evil smirk.

“Oh you are both so on!” Danny quickly agreed as Tucker quickly found a full list online of the Super Smash bro fighters, sharing his screen and making sure to record, if anything for future black mail reasons.

“Alright first up Mario,” Tucker announced, both his friends knowing that he would rather be the impartial party and narrator while they have their fun.

“Pass.” Danny and Sam voiced.

“Donkey Kong.”

“Pass,” Danny quickly said.

“Smash!” Sam was quick to say as the two looked at each other.

“You want to smash a giant monkey?” Danny questioned.

“First off he’s a gorilla, second you can’t tell me that he doesn’t fuck,” she quirked her eyebrow at him.

“Fair enough,” Danny yielded holding up his drink to take a sip in her honor.

“Dude that’s water,” Tucker rolled his eyes.

“Don’t’ remind me. Who’s next!”

“Link.”

“Smash” Tucker rolled his eyes at his two friends.

“Sometimes you two are so predictable. Samus.”

“Pass,” Sam waved her off.

“Smash. Let her fuck me up, in or out of that suit!”

“Dark Samus?”

“Same,” they both agreed, to keep their answers from last time.

“Yoshi.”

“Smash!” Sam yelled out, Danny thinking about it before he to agreed.

“Why am I friends with you two? Kirby?”

“Pass,” Sam said as Danny thought abot it. “Yeah pass. I feel like Kirby is to innocent. And dude who else would you be friends with. Hit me with the next one!”

“Fox and Falco.”

“Pass on Fox smash on Falco,” Sam decided. “Pass on both,” Danny shook his head.

“How could you smash one but not the other? Their the same thing?” Danny asked.

“First off their not. I feel like Falco is more bad ass. Second, I don’t want to hear that argument when we get to pokemon.”

“Fair enough.” Danny agreed.

“Speaking of Pokemon I’m skipping them in this list since that’s our next list,” Tucker skipped the image of pikachu. They both passed on Luigi, Ness, Captain Falcon, and jigglypuff.

“I would so smash princess peach, daisy, and Rosalina. Line them up!” Danny cheered.

“Really Peach? I would only smash Rosalina. She at least had a story line,” Sam rolled her eyes.

“Bowser?”

“Smash the fucking hell out of me!” Danny cheered.

“Okay I know I’m a monster fucker, but are you sure you’re not one?” Sam asked him.

“I have never actually thought about it,” Danny shrugged. “But you still didn’t answer the question?”

“Of course, I’d smash Bowser. Pass on Wario, Waluigi, and Dr. Mario,” Sam rolled her eyes, a smile on her lips.

“Yeah, I can agree with that statement,” Danny shook his head in understanding. “We are passing on the ice climbers?” Danny asked.

“Of course!” Danny agreed. “and you know I’m smashing Sheik and Zelda!”

“Smash Sheik pass on Zelda.”

“You are aware that their the same person right?” Tucker asked her.

“I’m very aware. Sheik could kill me and Zelda is a broing princess. I know what I want in a partner.”

“point taken,” Tucker stopped his fight as he ended up pushing next multip times. Danny and Sam both agreed to pass on the fire emblem charctrers along with young link while Smashing Ganon.

“Mr. Game and Watch.”

“Pass,” Sam said quickly.

“I’d smash. I feel like he could give me a fun time. You saw how he handles that hammer. If I’m lucky he’d use it to pound me,” Danny smiled, making both of his friends laugh.

“You know Danny I agree with that statement and that’s why I’d smash meta knight.”

“To much armor for me,” Danny said, making Tucker snort.

They passed on the Pit’s, kept their same opinion on Samus and landed on Snake.

“Extra Smash!” Danny and Sam agreed.

They kept playing, ending pretty quickly with mostly passes. Danny wanting to smash Bayonets,, Ridley, and King Roll. Sam was agreeing with that list adding Isabella, claiming that she must have some evil dark side to her. This led the group to the pokemon list.

“Do we want to start with Gen 1? Or just go into chaos?” Tucker asked, knowing his friends answers as he got up the list for Gen 9.

“I’m being honest if it’s got three evolutions, I’m most likely not going to smash the first evolution. The second and third are still up for grabs,” Danny set down his rules.

“I can agree with that. So we passing on Sprigatto, Quaxly, and Fuecoco,” Tucker mumbled to himself, making sure to skip thoses options.

“I’m Smashing Floragato, Meowscarda and crocalor from the starters,” Danny stated.

“Chicken,” Sam snorted. “I’ll take your grass started and your fire second evolution and raise you a Quaxwell.”

“I feel like it’s only going to drown into madness from here,” Tucker groaned, knowing it’s not even midnight where Danny is yet and there are nine generations of pokemon.

“How can you not Smash Spidops!” Danny asked frantically.

“Are you kidding? All it does is shot webs. If I wanted to fuck something that shots webs I would fuck spiderman,” Sam rolled her eyes.

“You. . .bring out an excellent point, but I’m not changing my answer!”

“Smashing Arbolliva!” Sam slammed her hand on the desk.

‘Damn girl! I am right here! If you don’t want me then just say it,” Tucker teased her as Danny laughed.

“Smash. Samsh. Smash Ceruledge,” Danny was cheering, Sam cheering with him.

“You know it makes sense that the two of you dated in. highschool, but I can clearly tell why you two were never going to work,” Tucker observed.

“And why is that?” Danny asked, quirking his eyebrow.

“You have to similar of taste.”

“No way in hell you’re actually fucking Grafaiai. Sam do you just have a thing for monkeys or something? “Danny asked.

“I’m not the one who’s ready to throw a party for Toedscruel. I thought we agreed no judging?” She glared.

“Oh know we are judging. I think I’m the one who’s judging the worst,” Tucker laughed.

“That doesn’t count. You only have eyes for Sam. I can’t even recombed a person looks hot and fuckable to you without you saying Sam’s better,” Danny groaned.

“Yep and it’s nice to see that my girlfriend does not have the same standards for me,” Tucker was looking towards her, a playful smile on his lips. He knows she loves him and that he’s not being serious.

“Ah shit guys! I gotta go and get ready for class!” Danny said after hours of playing the smash or pass game. They did eventually make it through all of the Pokémon, but now it was 7 am and Danny had to run to get to campus and stop at his favorite coffee shop.

“Make sure you stay awake dude. If you need to skip class I can write you a doctor’s note,” Tucker said.

“I’ll be fine. I just really don’t want to sleep right now. I should be better by tonight,” Danny said bye to his friends, changing into a different shirt, making sure to grab his jacket, wallet, and keys before leaving his small apartment.

Danny loved living in Gotham, but sometimes the hustle and bustle of the city can be chaotic and stressful, especially on the days when Danny could possibly be late for class, sleep deprived, yet to have his coffee and some report is stopping him to ask him question.

“Opinion of Red Hood?” was the only thing Danny heard the reported ask.

“Smash,” was all Danny could think of as he quickly walked into the coffee shop to get his black coffee with 12 extra expresso shots. Did is taste good? No. Did it wake him up? Absolutely.

Danny didn’t realize the absolute chaos he had caused till he was back home from his classes, Sam and Tucker spamming him with memes of what he did.

Seeing no other option but to go along with it. He found the original clip that tucker sent him a link to, tunrs out the news station put it up on twitter, and re retweeted it with just two words. “I’m right.”

Meanwhile on the other side of Gotham Dick is dying of laughter as he discovered the most hilarious news clip on the planet and proceeded to send it to every single person in his contacts and to every group chat that he’s in, just in case he didn’t have someone’s contact number saved.

He even found the clip being retweeted by the same guy who claims that he’s still right with someone else tagging it #plsdon’tkillhimmr.redhoodsir.

He was making fun of Jason for it especially because turns out his brother knows the guy in real life.

“Grayson what does he even mean when he says smash?” Damain asked as Tim and Dick were making fun of Jason at the cave.

“I have to agree with Damain. The video makes know sense,” Bruce agreed.

“I’m not explaning this,” Tim quickly grabbed his coffee and walked out of the batcave.

“No it!” Jason declared running upstairs, face fully red, Dick not far behind him.

“Why is it always me,” Duke groaned as Bruce wayne lifted a questioning eye brow up at him.

“Please don’t make me explain it,” Duke begged, but sadly when Bruce Wayne wants to know something he will know something.

“Keep making fun of me for this and I will no longer show up to family dinner,” Jason glared at his older brother.

“Aww. You know you can’t avoid Alfred forever,” Dick teased.

“Shit you’re right,” Jason groaned, knowing he was going to have to put up with his brother’s teasing no matter what.

Before anyone knew it Wednesday was upon them, which meant that Danny and Jason finished their only shared class and walked out together to get lunch.

“So did you see your famous news clip?” Jason asked, not able to look Danny in the eye.

“Yeah. I swear this I say the craziest shit when I’m sleep deprived. I stand by what I said though,” Danny got up from the table to grab his order.

“You’re not worried about Red Hood finding out or anything?” Jason asked, seeing a chaotic look within Danny’s eyes.

“Jason, I want nothing more than for Red Hood to come and find me. Hopefully then I’ll get my wish,” Danny smirked up at him, hoping his friend would catch on to the signs.

“Well one can always hope,” Jason gave an awkward laugh as Danny sighed.

Jason may be a bat, but Danny has a feeling that he’s as hopeless as he is when it comes to picking up on romantic cues. At this rate, it’s going to take a miracle to get Jason to realize that yes Danny has feelings for him.

@help-i-need-a-cool-username @spookytragedyshark @weirdfishy @meira-3919 @akikkobara @yjfk@shorterthanadverage@mistyaltair @seraphinedemort@princessdaisysolosyourfaves@idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit@thatonegaybitch68@fuck-you-too-world@stargirl1331@blackrabbitt3t@staresatyoufromaccrosstheroom@f-theworld

I think that was everyone that wanted to be tagged. I personally feel like this could you a second chapter. If I ever do decide to do that then I would definitely add more Jason moments than just having him in here at the last moment.

[sentientgolfball]

hello, may I ask for:

¹²⁾ “no underwear?”

with Dew and Swiss? Maybe feminization, Dew wearing a skirt, if you are okay with it? >:)

You said Dew in a skirt and I blacked out

Swiss has been staring at Dew all night. Really all of them have, but Swiss was the most obvious. Can you blame him though and Dew looks like that? 

The pack had decided they had enough lazy days after returning from tour, so they threw on their glamours and hit the town for a night of bar hopping. When Dew walked into the common area where everyone was gathered waiting to leave they almost didn’t make it outside. He was in a skin tight, short little black dress. His hair was down with just the smallest bit of Infernal magick streaming out of his glamour to make it seem like it was glowing. The dress was strapless with the back cutout. His eyes raked over everyone with the smallest knowing smirk. 

“So are we going or what?” 

They were already at their third bar of the night. Some shitty little concert club Swiss couldn’t remember the name of. He could barely remember his own name with the way he’s captivated watching Dew dance with Rain. It was unfair how gorgeous Dew looked. It was unfair that Rain was the one who has been glued to him the entire night. Swiss nearly growled watching Rain’s had grab Dew’s waist, traveling down and around to drag to the tips of his fingers down Dew’s spine. Dew leaned into the touch, back to chest, and looked up at him with half lidded eyes. 

“Careful there Sparky” Cirrus nudges him, amusement in her voice. 

“Huh? What?” 

Cirrus stares at him waiting for him to get it. The longer he looks at her with confusion the more he starts to notice it. He sighs with a groan and works on strengthening his glamour, hiding the claws and fangs that had begun to slip out. 

“Good boy” she pats his cheek “we can’t keep having incidents or they’ll never let us leave again.” 

“I find it insulting you’d think I’d pull a Rain.” 

“We sent you into the bathroom to go take care of a murder scene and instead you had sex can you blame me?” 

“Hey to be fair I had sex and helped Rain clean it up. I was summoned to multitask, baby.” 

Cirrus rolls her eyes but there’s a grin on her face as she takes a sip of her drink. Swiss returns his attention to the two dancing ghouls and almost wishes he hadn’t. Rain has Dew pulled against him, one hand around his waist the other around his neck. Rain had his lips to his ear as the two grind against each other. That was the last straw for Swiss. He jumped out of his seat and made his way over to them. Dew held eye contact with him the whole way. Rain glared at him when he was close enough to speak to them over the loud music. 

“Mind if I have a turn with our lovely Spitfire, Rainy?”

If looks could kill, Swiss would be a dead man. His hold on Dew tightened. 

“Aw come on Rainy baby don’t you know sharing is caring?” 

“Who said I cared?” Rain glares at him before kissing down Dew’s neck. 

Swiss steps closer with a grin on his face “Getting a little bold are we?” 

“Care to find out?” 

“Alright you two cut the shit no one needs to pull a Mountain” Dew wiggles out of Rain’s grasp. Rain scowls at him. 

“Come on rainstorm it won’t kill you to let me play with Swiss for a bit. Besides, you have to make good on those promises when we get back” Dew pats him on the cheek with a wide grin. 

Rain just scoffs, pulls him in for a quick filthy kiss, and walks off to the booth the pack claimed when they arrived. They watch him go before Dew crowds into Swiss’ space. 

“What now Sparky? You got me all to yourself.” 

Swiss immediately wraps his hand around Dew’s wrist, dragging him to the nearest bathroom. Swiss locks the door once they’re inside before bending down to suck a mark over the spot Rain kissed. Dew laughs and tilts his head back to give him more room to work. 

“Real fucking excited aren’t ya?” 

“You have no fucking idea Spitfire.” 

Swiss takes a step forward, causing Dew to be pushed against the door. The fire ghoul thread his hands through his hair and hooks one legs over his hip. Swiss uses the new angle to his advantage, running his hand up Dew’s thigh before slipping under the hem of his dress. He gasps. 

“No underwear?” 

“Didn’t want lines” Dew shrugs.

“UhHuh that’s the reason.” 

Dew laughs and grinds his hips forward against Swiss’ hand. The multi ghoul brings Dew into a filthy kiss as he grabs at Dew’s cock, stroking him fully hard. Teeth clack together as Swiss makes an effort to shove his tongue down his throat. Swiss brings his other hand around to Dew’s back. He pets gently over the exposed skin for only a moment before dipping before the hem to slide a finger between his cheeks. 

Dew lets go of his hold on Swiss to pull the dress up to bunch around his hips. Swiss gives him a look. 

“What? This shit was expensive, I'm not ruining it.” 

“Oh I’ll ruin something.” 

Swiss latches onto Dew’s neck, sucking and nibbling where his gill scars would be under the glamour. He probes his finger against Dew’s asshole, huffing out a laugh when he feels wetness. He continues slowly stroking his dick as he slides the tip of his finger inside of Dew. He groans into Swiss’ neck before licking up the column of his throat to taste his mixed elemental flavor. There’s an underlying taste of whiskey and spice that Dew can’t get enough of. Dew sighs when he feels Swiss curl the finger that’s inside of him. Swiss slips a second finger into him and Dew keens, biting into the side of his neck. 

“Good fucking girl” Swiss thrusts his fingers in and out of Dew. 

He laughs when he feels his cock kick in the hand, blurting a glob of pre into his fist. 

“Shit you’re so pretty Spitfire. Need you to get all dolled up like this more.” 

Swiss strokes him faster, content to feel him clench around his fingers with every twist of his fist over his head. Dew groans when he feels him slipping a third finger into his ass. His hips twitch forward, fucking into Swiss’ fist with each downward stroke. 

“Cum for me. Be a good girl and cum” Swiss frantically pressed kisses into Dew’s skin. 

Dew groans “When have I ever been a good girl?” 

Swiss thrusts his fingers into Dew, curling inside of him and that’s all it takes. Dew bites Swiss’ shoulder with a grunt, spilling hot into his hand. Swiss licks and kisses every part of skin he can get his mouth on until Dew’s legs stop shaking. He takes one more deep inhale of his campfire and cinnamon scent before pulling away. He grins at Dew before bringing his hands to his mouth, cleaning his slick and his cum from his fingers with a moan. 

Dew takes a moment to catch his breath, smoothing out his hair and his dress. 

“You know Mount’s gonna go ballistic when you walk back out there smelling like me.” 

“Well at the very least it won’t end with another code murder” Swiss laughs “but I think he’ll be distracted by another scent.” 

Dew raises his eyebrow at Swiss, scanning over his face until it hits him like a truck. 

“No fucking way. You didn’t” Dew laughs. 

“You’re the one who decided to wear a slutty little black dress” Swiss shrugs. 

“Oh Mounty is definitely gonna lose his fucking mind” Dew palms the front of Swiss’ pants, making shudder with the feeling of his cum before spread around. 

“Now if you’ll excuse me I need to go entertain a water ghoul” Dew gives him a quick kiss before leaving the bathroom.

[britcision]

AND NOW: Part Two! One might think I would look at the fic at some point and check what chapter we’re on, but I will not! Mostly for “but that takes effort” reasons but also because by the time I get back here I WILL have forgotten!

Part One of this chapter:

First Chapter:

———————

Well You Did Get Down On One Knee (part 2)

Tucker, Conner, and Tim had actually gotten through another round of Spiderheck in between the rabid buzzing of Tim and Tucker’s phones. 

Conner had the good sense to mute his and toss it behind the couch… after sharing the “good news” of Timblr with the Young Justice chat. Without which his phone probably wouldn’t have been buzzing at all.

He regretted nothing, despite Tim’s alternate pouting and threats. Tucker was pretty impressed, and pretty sure that it wasn’t just for the guy’s good looks this time. 

Finally, after the fourth time Tim’s ringtone changed itself and blasted at full volume (making Tucker completely drop his controller), the Black tech gave up, sighing heartily and dropping his head into his hands. 

Not least to hide the sudden wicked grin on his face as an idea struck. Because yeah, sure, he could help Tim try and unhack fucking Oracle on the sly, or… they could remove the distraction another way. 

(Tucker wasn’t a thousand percent ungrateful for the distraction; he was pretty sure even without the merry buzzing of his social life burning down around him he’d have had a hard time concentrating on the game. 

It just plain wasn’t fair; Conner was too fucking hot, and so earnest, and excited when he was doing well! All the little shouts and exclamations, the broad grins, Tucker was really beginning to doubt his own demisexual nature. 

Although, to be fair, it wasn’t like he actually wanted to… interact while Conner was being cuter than Cujo with a rubber bone. Just. It was hard to think about anything else when he could be appreciating all… that instead. 

At least while Tim’s ass was being blown off by at least three separate group chats, Tucker’s floundering was less embarrassing.) 

Tim gave him a consoling pat on the back while Conner whooped in victory, probably trying to comfort Tucker in the loss. Tucker let him for a moment, running a couple quick calculations in his head. 

Because yeah, he’d never got around to asking Danny to ecto infuse any of the Waynes’ tech; not the batcomputer nor the gaming consoles, but. Well. They’d played for hours the last two nights, and it wasn’t like Tucker had never gotten his hands through a console’s innards. 

It had to count as knowing the device, right? 

And it wasn’t like it was that hard, doing it for just three people. For just one game. 

Looking up at the other two, he gave them both a slightly shyer grin. 

“So, like… I know we’re having a good time and all,” he began, and Tim groaned theatrically as he was interrupted yet again by his ringtone. 

“I’m about to ask Superboy to toss this thing into space,” he grumbled, glowering at his phone. 

Conner reached innocently towards it and Tim snatched it back up immediately. Tucker settled back once it was safe too, grinning sheepishly even if it wasn’t his bluff Conner called. 

Conner tipped him a wink and Tucker had to clear his throat and give his head a quick shake to clear his blush. 

“Right… yeah, uh, anyway. What if I had a better way to get us away from distractions?” He asked as innocently as he could, staring at the screen instead of that far too attractive face. 

He could still see the other two sit up from the corner of his eye, both looking interested. 

“We’re not allowed to game in the Bat Cave,” Tim said quickly, with a resigned air that said the question had come up before… and enough disappointment that they’d probably done it and been caught. 

Which, yeah, thinking of the size of the screen in the cave, Tucker suddenly really wanted to try that too. 

Already banned though. And he and Danny were already on thin enough ice with Batman as it was. 

Reluctantly dismissing the thought, he returned his attention to the present moment, grin spreading as he turned to face Tim directly. 

(Tim was safe. Tim was, objectively, a very handsome young man and Tucker could appreciate that in a distant way, but being pretty was just so much less interesting that almost anything else about Tim. 

Tucker could worship him through a distant computer screen, so the pretty blue eyes weren’t much of a distraction. Looking at Tim face to face was really cool, but Tucker would be more tongue tied watching him code.) 

“Sure, but you remember I told you about my technopathy? I can interface with machines I know really well,” he added for Conner’s benefit, accidentally looking over in time to preen as his face lit up with interest. 

Tim, for some reason, stifled a snicker. 

“Yeah, you mentioned. And that it was a little more complicated, but go on,” he prodded, and Conner shot him a look that Tucker was gonna have to ask questions about. 

Later. Once he was done showing off a little. And, probably, getting his ass kicked at Spiderheck. 

Tucker Foley was a master of video game controls, sure, and that sorta helped, as did “knowing you’ve been thrust into a video game”. He just didn’t delude himself into thinking it’d be enough to counter the actual literal battle training of superheroes. 

But hey, maybe having all those extra legs would fuck them both up for long enough that he’d win a few rounds. 

“Well I think you might’ve already noticed, but I know this game really well.” 

** 

Danny was doing his best to keep a cheerful face on things, especially the weird shit. 

It had been a while since he’d had a nasty new halfa surprise of his own crop up (although he didn’t dare hope he’d had his last; that would surely bring something on), but he still remembered how it felt. 

How overwhelming, how hollow and intimidating the world could be when you were learning that you really knew almost nothing about yourself. That at any time, your body could do something totally out of your control. 

Something you might not be able to handle. 

He’d felt the fear in Jason, deep and bright and smothered a second later, but not before Danny felt it. 

At least he could be here for the other guy; he wasn’t going to be going into the whole mess alone. Danny would make sure of that. Understandable as his reservations about reliving his death were, they would face it together, and he had to hope that might help. 

Possibly with Jazz too, when it was actually time for that first transformation. Danny hadn’t even really started coping with dying when he’d first changed, and he’d been dead less than a minute; it had almost been part of the rebirth process. By the time he’d had to do it for a fight, he already knew what would happen.

For Jason… well, it had been a while, and even Danny could see he’d not done much more than paper over the cracks with bad ecto induced rage and carry on. 

He was trying not to let Jason see how much he worried, but had a feeling it didn’t matter. Jason was plenty worried already. 

Good news was… well, there wasn’t much good news. It was going to suck, no matter what, and if they didn’t do it in controlled conditions it’d be fucking awful. 

But they did have some controlled conditions, and better yet? Probably wouldn’t be a problem for at least a couple more days. 

As little as Danny wanted to talk about the whole… mess that was Jason’s death, Jason himself was all about the detailed planning. Back ups of back ups and all that. 

It probably came with the Batman training. 

(The mad compartmentalising totally did. Danny had spent enough time with Bruce in one single car ride to be sure about that.) 

For the moment, he gave Jason as much support he could; contact, a reassuring aura, and a smile whenever he could, and absolutely no oogling of his mostly naked body while they were doing the checkup. 

(Jason had mentioned a pit-related growth spurt last time, and this close Danny could see that the scars all over him were interspersed with stretch marks. Now that he actually looked the difference was super obvious; the different colour, the creasing where they indented the skin. 

Danny definitely wasn’t thinking of licking them to see if he could feel the texture. 

Or running his fingers over bared skin, which was admittedly less intimate than the licking thoughts he totally wasn’t having, but also seemed kinda more a betrayal. Because Jason wouldn’t question Danny touching him, but Danny would have Nefarious Motives. 

Of. Textures. 

But it was totally fine because he wasn’t having any of those thoughts at all.)  

He just wished he knew what had caused that sudden panic attack Jason had earlier; it had come almost from nowhere, a wave of black and crushing dread that froze Danny’s already-iced core. It filled the room, filled his lungs, and would have cost him everything to not respond. 

Part of him had wanted to shove Jason fully inside himself, store the much larger man in the hollow of his chest so that nothing could hurt him. 

(And Danny could, technically, kinda do that. Jason didn’t have to be that much bigger than him, at least while Danny was in ghost form. Ghost form was all about self perception and, well, raw power. 

Looking like his twink ass self was a deliberate choice, and one he’d never regretted until it meant not curling Jason into the infinite curls of his tail and protecting himself from the universe as a whole.) 

Danny was super great at boundaries. Yup. One thousand percent completely normal about them. 

But he’d been able to wrap his aura around Jason anyway, because that wasn’t a freakishly massive monster form that would freak him out further. They’d helped him calm down, helped him breathe, and Jason seemed… 

Way too fine, frankly, even his aura had cleared, and Danny trusted that about as far as Sam could throw him. Bat-level compartmentalizing, for sure. 

That was gonna get real weird when the more emotionally regulated ghost powers kicked in, but Danny was gonna cross his fingers and hope that it made Jason’s transition easier, not infinitely more fucked up. Jazz would be intolerable, for one thing. 

Most of the rest of the appointment went well anyway; bar the surprise “Congratulations On Your Soul Bond” news (which he would not be thinking about too hard until he couldn’t possibly avoid it), it was pretty much what they’d expected. 

Jason was doing good, Danny was gonna need to work around classes tomorrow maybe for another trip, and there was just the teeniest chance Jason’s fully formed core would manifest like, physically. 

Shockwaves had been mentioned. Danny now had questions about how much of his original death light show had been the portal itself opening. Ones that could never be answered, but hey. 

If/when Clockwork showed up, Danny was gonna prioritise Jason’s soul contract over his own curiosity for purely friend related reasons. 

Danny didn’t like soul contracts of any sort at the best of times, unwritten ones that put a friend into his service? Yeah, maybe he was feeling just a little vindicated that Jason could see what he’d been freaking out about now. 

Now that it was too late, but Danny was technically the Ghost King and Clockwork’s boss, so even if he couldn’t fix the whole mess until his coronation, it wasn’t gonna be a problem-problem. 

If Clockwork tried to use the contract to push Danny into accepting his coronation more quickly, well, Danny had a real good win streak of fighting ancients in his pocket. And he’d double never get coronated if they spent the rest of eternity playing cat and mouse for Danny to beat Clockwork’s ass, so. 

Not that Danny believed Clockwork would, really. The Observants? Abso-fucking-lutely, he’d be swinging before they finished a sentence, but Clockwork genuinely seemed to care. 

He pruned the timelines with the ruthless efficiency of a gardener, but always to make the best outcome. The one where the least people got fucked over. 

He’d absolutely fuck Danny over in the service of getting that best outcome, but Danny was also pretty sure he’d feel bad about it if he did, and that Clockwork would and had chosen to believe in him over his predicted outcomes more than once. 

Danny trusted Clockwork. 

Of course, now that he wasn’t trying to hide and actually wanted to see his mentor and regent, the bastard was nowhere to be found. 

All jokes about the “Ever-Moving Now” aside, they weren’t directly making for Clockwork’s tower; the only way to find it was with Clockwork’s permission, so Danny didn’t usually bother. As a kid they’d thought they could stumble across it and surprise him, but these days? 

Danny knew better. And Clockwork wasn’t exactly subtle; his lair had showed up around the very first metaphorical corner when he wanted Danny to come in once too often. And hadn’t been anywhere to be found when Danny searched, only to show up beside his fucking portal home. 

Where it definitely hadn’t been on his way in. 

It went where Clockwork wanted it, when he wanted it there. Danny totally wasn’t jealous. 

It had been a while since he’d bothered hiding from Danny though; these past couple months, just being in the Zone had netted him an unwanted visit from his regent. Danny was beginning to suspect Clockwork wasn’t actually all that keen on ruling the realms, and was just planning to fob the job off on him. 

Which, y’know, fair. Danny wasn’t exactly thrilled with it either. But it was his job as Danny’s mentor to protect him from this shit, right? 

Now that Danny actually wanted to see him though, of course he wasn’t around. Which probably wasn’t actually a bad sign, or that he’d done something he didn’t want them to know about. 

Clockwork was just a cryptic asshole, and apparently Jason had used up all of his “getting clear answers” cards in their first meeting. If only Danny had ever gotten a single damn one. 

There was one other detour Danny wanted to make while in the Realms, but… today didn’t feel like quite the right time. Jason had already had a fucking day of it, and Danny didn’t wanna dump any more on him. Even if Ghost Writer’s library would be a nice trip for Jason, it was something they should talk about first.

And… probably ask Ghost Writer about first too.

If Danny ever remembered to do that.

So they’d thanked Frostbite, gotten Jason a bag of ecto ice chips (Danny wasn’t allowed any, it was totally unfair because he needed an energy boost too! But noooo, his core was “stabilised” and “complete” and he needed to “sleep” and “eat” for energy like a pleb. Unfair!), and agreed to come back as soon as Jason’s core stabilised. 

Danny figured he could always come back on his own for a visit to Nocturn. That was gonna be a whole ass emotional mess; Dan was technically in the database Tucker had handed over, but Jason hadn’t mentioned it yet. Danny didn’t know if that meant he didn’t know, or was just being actually tactful. 

He wasn’t even sure what he actually wanted to say yet, how to ask for what he wanted, and he should probably do this right. Nocturn hadn’t challenged him again since he’d become king, and had actually been super helpful so far, but… well, the spirit of dreams was proud, powerful, and Danny was pretty sure he helped specifically to have something on Danny. He’d already decided that his main job tonight was to help Jason relax, feel better, and work out if he needed to sicc the Sam-Tucker combo on Bruce Wayne’s social media. 

… 

Who was he kidding. Of course they’d be setting Sam and Tucker on the guy, as soon as Jason gave the green light. 

Jason had never exactly gotten all the way through the explicit details of how Bruce had fucked up this afternoon, beyond just siccing Constantine on Jason, but honestly? 

He didn’t have to. Jason had been almost tangibly frustrated from the minute he rolled up to Danny’s dorms, though he was gonna shoot Tucker a thank you for his little “revenge”, since it had cheered the guy up right away. 

Danny was totally not considering a little spectral revenge for himself too. Mostly because Batman would probably know all about ghosts by now, and probably had Constantine doing his spectral condom act all over the cave. 

But it wasn’t like Bruce liked Danny anyway, so really, what did he have to lose? Not like Jason hadn’t already shown whose side he came out on on this one. 

Danny didn’t exactly know what having over protective parents was like, but Jason could not be more clear that he didn’t appreciate Bruce’s interference. There was clearly a lot going on with those two, and while they’d already talked about Jason’s death and technically he had permission… 

Well, Danny didn’t wanna push. Ask literally any ghost, dying could leave you with a whole stack of issues. Jason wasn’t even close to the most homicidal Danny had met. 

That poisonous rage, though… Danny pushed it from his mind. It didn’t matter, wouldn’t matter, Frostbite said Jason was doing well and Pitty would be out of him soon. 

… 

Maybe, just maybe Danny was also starting to worry what that might mean, since it sent Jason into a full panic attack and he’d seen what the rage was like when fully under control. 

Maybe they’d bump up the schedule on taking care of those Lazarus pits. Get that Obsession dealt with, see if it calmed things down. 

Yet another thing Danny would have to talk to Clockwork about, and was his irritatingly omnipresent mentor anywhere to be found? Of course not. 

Which probably meant this wasn’t a timeline threatening problem. Yet.

What a comfort. 

Which left them flying home through the Zone, and Danny totally wasn’t overthinking literally everything. He was being considerate, quiet, giving Jason time to process everything they’d seen that day. 

Maybe himself too. Just a little. But it wasn’t like Jason was hurrying to start a conversation, and they both had a lot on their minds. It was a good, comfortable silence. 

They had nearly reached his preferred portal spot too, so today’s quick trip to the Ghost Zone was nearly over, unless Danny actually wanted to go Clockwork-hunting… which, while probably less emotionally fraught, wasn’t likely to go great. 

(Realms geography could be more than just hinky; they were infinite after all, so he tended to open portals back out in the same place he’d previously opened a portal from the living world in. It seemed to help, and he didn’t usually wind up in the wrong dimension that way. 

Especially if there was a nearby, powerful anchor.

Going searching up and down the whole ass Zone for the Ever Moving Now? Yeah, that’d fuck his portal plans right up.) 

Danny could feel a steady building trepidation rising in Jason like the tide, but he had no idea what the hell to do about it. Back there in the world were Bruce and Constantine, and all the problems that kept Jason balanced precariously on a knife edge. 

Here in the Realms, all the problems were new and interesting and could almost all be solved by punching, which really suited both of them. Danny would have been tempted to suggest that sidebar to see Ghost Writer, but it was late, he had school in the morning, and his super handy time manipulating mentor was being a dick and wasn’t here. 

A couple years ago, he’d have said fuck it and gone on the sidebar anyway, and probably not slept all night to help his friend. And had Jazz harping in his ear about “developing bodies”, “needing his sleep”, and “this is why you haven’t had a growth spurt since you were fourteen”. 

Which totally wasn’t a valid argument or at all what had made him start taking care of himself. He just… well, he just actually really fucking liked his classes these days. 

Against all the odds, Danny Fenton had gotten into a prestigious college, into an engineering program that actually let him stretch his talents. And take apart old or broken lab equipment from the other buildings for fun and profit. 

And if he hadn’t slept the night before, they didn’t let him use the welding torch. Danny was pretty sure Clockwork might be behind that, since they somehow always knew. 

Maybe that was how Nocturn was already betraying him… conspiring with Clockwork to make Danny sleep more and absorb his power? 

Danny considered that seriously for about half a second before discarding it. Sure, Nocturn was the King of Sleep and an ancient, but he was also a canny motherfucker and not likely to mess up badly enough to accidentally become King of the Infinite Realms too. 

For all that he wanted power, fucking no one wanted to deal with the Observants. Danny had practically begged. 

It wasn’t like they had to go back to Gotham and then immediately straight to bed though. Just, y’know, something that wouldn’t take hours and hours. There had to be something they could do in the city that wouldn’t keep them up all night, but would keep Bruce Wayne off their asses. 

Unless Jason had shit to do. Danny… kinda hadn’t asked. The only plans he’d known about for the day was busting out Waylon, and then the potential trip to Frostbite. 

Maybe he hadn’t meant for it to go so late? Maybe Danny should ask? 

Maybe Jason was getting sick of him. 

Maybe Jason was getting a little too good at reading auras, since that thought barely settled in before he broke the silence. 

“What the fuck?” 

And alright, that might also have been a coincidence Danny decided, brows furrowing as he looked for what had caught Jason’s attention. 

It all looked normal up ahead to him. Bright green zone, a couple purple islands (was that the ghost of a Bat Burger? Maybe they should check this place out more), the haze of black smog that always surrounded… 

Ah. 

Yeah, they hadn’t really had that conversation yet, though Danny had meant to bring it up on the way home. Riiiight up until all that overthinking started.

Guess that made this introduction time. Sort of put a stop to wondering how to cheer Jason up… although depending on how Jason felt, it might just be a distraction. 

Danny pulled to a stop, Jason coming in close before stopping alongside him, just in front like he might need to protect Danny from something. 

Or like he overshot the stopping. Could be either, really. But Danny had a feeling it was at least a combo. He and Jason were just too alike, but it looked almost automatic. Vigilante training, and Danny’d bust his ass later about treating him like a civilian. 

Jason was the civilian here, and his citizen. 

He cleared his throat, wondering how exactly to go about this, since ghosts didn’t have an introduction protocol that wasn’t “throw down”. And spent about half a second wondering if that was actually on the table before deciding against it. 

Sure, most ghost introductions involved a friendly punch up, but Lady Gotham had always been a little different. And this wasn’t exactly your standard “new ghost who dis”. 

“Right, yeah… we didn’t see her last time we were in the Zone. Jason, this is-” 

“You think my own boy wouldn’t know me, Phantom?” 

The voice came from all around them, low and dark and smokey sweet like molten chocolate with just a hint of whiskey. Jason stiffened and glared around harder, conscious caution battling with the sudden wave of relief from his core. 

She spun herself from the smog of the city, like she always had. A tall, curvaceous woman built to Jack Fenton proportions, easily seven feet tall with dark mahogany skin and pitch black lipstick, perfect black hair coiled tight into an afro about her head. Smoky black makeup lined her eyes and caressed high, generous cheekbones in a line of clouds. 

Long black gloves covered her hands and arms, one of which was held across her body, hand cupping the elbow of her other arm while the other held what probably was a full sized orange traffic cone like it was a cigarette holder. It looked wrong clasped in her hand, scale thrown off by her size. A thin plume of white smoke even spiralled from the wider end. 

She wore a short flapper dress covered in layers of tassels, each of which flashed with beads of jet all along the length except for the last bead on a scattering of the strands, which were large, blood flecked pearls. Below the end of the skirt, her legs were lost in the spills of black smog surrounding her, though occasionally more flashes of pearl could be seen shifting through the murk. 

It was her eyes that captured all of the attention though as she caught and held Jason’s gaze, a sly smile on those black lips. They glowed yellow from lid to lid, each pupil shaped like a bat. 

The fight dropped out of Jason instantly, jaw dropping. 

And yeah, maybe Danny should have expected that he’d… sort of recognize her? Jason was a Gothamite to the core, had been one of her true defenders since pixie boots were in style… right up until his own death. 

And if Danny read that twitch right, it was costing him an effort not to automatically drop to one knee. So apparently that was just wired into him, and not just a Clockwork-thing. Good to know. 

Her smile spread, showing sharp white teeth dripping with tar. 

“My son,” she purred, her voice filling the air around them and sending almost visible ripples through the ectoplasm of the realms, “it is so good to finally meet you in person.” 

In front of Danny, Jason tensed again. Whatever he’d recognized didn’t quite cut through bat-paranoia, apparently. 

“Danny, who is this?” He asked cautiously, his voice low and not taking his eyes off the twin bat signals pointed at him. 

Lady Gotham sighed heavily, taking a deep pull on her traffic cone and blowing out a billowing plume of smog. She gestured to Danny, who nodded quickly. 

Totally not gonna “I told you so” the city spirit for the city he was living in. King or not, he had some manners. 

“Jason, Lady Gotham. She’s…” he hesitated, not sure how exactly to phrase it. 

Had they talked about city spirits? It felt like they had? But it had been so little time, he wasn’t sure. 

Lady Gotham stepped back in smoothly, shooting Jason a laconic smile and spreading her arms. 

“I am exactly what it sounds like. The beating heart of the city, born from the well of souls and desperate hopes of those who call it home. Every shadow in the alley, every gargoyle you shelter under, every parapet that caught your grapple and let you fly…” 

Jason had stopped breathing, which was alright as long as they were in the Zone but might not be later, his eyes tracking desperately over the ghost before them. Her smile softened, becoming fond, tender, her free hand now reaching out towards him. 

“… and you have been mine since the day you were born, Jason Todd.” 

** 

Jason was… 

Jason was. He didn’t know what he was. 

He hadn’t realised just how much noise his heart made thumping until the first time it stopped. Until he’d slammed back to life, heard its drumbeat thudding in his head, every second of every day. 

This felt a little like that. 

Like a sound he’d been hearing all of his life had gone quiet, and then come roaring back in full swing. It was too much, and not enough, and everything he’d missed in Nanda Parbat and around the world when he’d been training, left with only the thudding of his heart. 

The sounds of Gotham. Normal city noises, most of them; the honks and occasional screeches of cars, the buzz of people. And then the screams, gunshots, mad cackling laughter that most cities usually only saw in designated areas. 

And underneath it all, a low, throbbing pulse, a hum in the back of his head that meant he was home. That told him where he was, every street corner or shady alleyway. 

He could navigate the city blindfolded, knew every gargoyle, every running gutter and rusty grate, listening to that beat. That beat that told him it was his place, the one thing that nothing and no one could ever take away from him, not even all the bullshit with the League of Assassins. 

He hadn’t really noticed it going quiet in the Ghost Zone before. Which, y’know, they’d been busy. He’d had a lot on his mind, and… well, it happened any time he left the city. 

Going away with the Outsiders, it didn’t matter if they crossed the bay to Metropolis or went to space, Jason knew when he wasn’t in Gotham. Knew when he woke up in a hospital bed whether or not he was home just from that beat. 

He’d started thinking it might be the city’s ectoplasm, since Danny was so sure that was why he’d risen before. Might have explained why the Zone was a little different; it was all ectoplasm. 

And then he’d looked at this woman made of smog and shadows and smoking a fucking traffic cone, and the beat almost brought him to his knees. 

How could he not know her? They danced every night, her hand in his, guiding his guns, his grapple, cupped gently around the back of his neck and showing him where to look. Hiding him from Oracle’s cameras, pointing him at those who attacked the weak like he was the gun himself. 

Familiar as his own shadow. Constant as gravity. 

And it was that familiarity that pulled at every ounce of Bat training, that unconscious recognition and trust that forced him to doubt. 

Hypnotists were the fucking worst. Magic users were all annoying, but Jason would tangle with any of the rest before dealing with a hypnotist. They were worse than Condiment King and Kite Man combined into some ketchup splattered hell kite. 

And the more something deeper than the Pit whispered that this wasn’t hypnotism, wasn’t an outside influence, was just the deepest part of himself recognising the deepest part of his home, the harder he fought that feeling. 

Until her hand reached for his, and she said his name, and his hand was in hers before he could stop himself. 

Contact was… it was a lot. 

A barrage of sounds, smells, the backs of every alley flashing through his mind as he was bombarded with memories. Memories? Or was that what was happening now? 

Flashes of rooftops, bodies tensed in the shadows, goons working below in blissful ignorance that was about to be shattered. Breaking windows, sprays of bullets or gas or worse, moving and punching and taking down without killing. 

He caught sight of Cass for a brief moment, her shape outlined in glowing shadows that definitely weren’t visible to the men running past her hiding place. But of course they weren’t; that was the point. 

Cass was the perfect shadow anywhere on Earth, her stealth unparalleled by anything but actual magic, but in Gotham? In Gotham the darkness wrapped her in loving arms, held her close, made sure she was never found. 

His baby sister, Gotham’s child even if she’d never been to the city until she was nearly an adult. 

More flashes, Dick flying across an alley in Bludhaven (thankfully in his current suit, not the Discowing, which might mean this was the present? Or just that Jason had been seeing him so much more lately that there were just more memories of him like this?), and that made Jason pause. 

Bludhaven wasn’t Gotham. That was literally the point. That was why Dick lived there. 

And he heard her low chuckle, smoky and soft in his ear. 

*Just across the bay, my dear? No, he would have to go so much farther to be free of me, to stop being mine.*

The voice was warm and fond, soft like crushed velvet and so full of affection and pride it tugged at something in Jason’s core. 

Something from the little boy who’d watched Robin fly through the air and could barely believe he’d touched the same dream. 

Lady Gotham hadn’t moved, her hand still in his in the exact same position, and while he couldn’t see her past the images to know if she’d spoken with mouth or mind he had a feeling he knew. She was in his head, in his heart, and he’d not spoken aloud. 

Before Jason would work out how to reply, if he even wanted to reply, his attention was caught by something else in the cascade of images. 

A dark spot, not in every scene (at least not that he noticed), but often enough. Something that looked like a shadow, but just a fraction deeper than the rest, a fraction darker, that moved when all the shadows around it were still. 

Now that he looked for it he could see it everywhere, the sight of it sending a shiver up his spine that made his hair stand on end. It wasn’t fear; Jason was well acquainted with fear, as little as it bothered him. 

This was… tension, anticipation, recognition, the same thing he’d felt when there hadn’t been an Outsiders mission in a while and Roy had decided to hunt him for sport. Something, someone so familiar, with such a strong place in his life, someone he knew was damn capable, setting their sights on him. 

(It was always play when Roy did it, a game to keep them both on their toes and get a different kind of training in. Jason didn’t know if Roy ever hunted the others; asking felt like cheating somehow.) 

And then suddenly the shadow turned in a different way, its attention locking on to Jason in return and adrenaline shot through him like a bolt of lighting. 

It had to be live. Or the shadow knew when someone saw its image. But it had looked back, raising the hair on the back of his neck until it felt like he’d become a Studio Ghibli character, and it was still looking at him. 

His hands itched for his guns, the All-Blades, the Fright Gun, and he felt the large, hot hand still holding his tighten for just a second, felt Lady Gotham’s chuckle through his whole body like he was a speaker, and then he was looking at her face again, fond and smiling and larger than life. 

“Now now, my sons,” she purred softly, definitely speaking with her mouth this time even if it was just as warm as when he’d heard her in his head, “play nicely.” 

Had she been that tall before? She’d been taller than him, certainly, her hand completely enfolding his the way Bruce’s had when Jason had first come off the streets, but now she loomed almost twice as large. 

Still holding his hand in hers, only now his was positively dainty, a doll’s hand held by the child who adored it. Her thumb was almost the size of his whole hand, brushing gently over the back. 

She could probably snap him in half in an instant. 

He’d probably let her. 

Her smile spread, reacting to the thought, and her other huge hand came up to gently cup his face, all the pride and love he’d only ever seen from Catherine Todd before. 

“My brave little knight…” her eyes closed for a moment and she sucked in a deep breath, her whole body gently expanding as she savoured… something. Then those signal eyes opened and fixed on him, full of lazy satisfaction. “Your belief is so sweet.” 

The effect was somewhat spoiled by the traffic cone now pinched effortlessly between two fingers. It hadn’t changed size, which Jason supposed had to be his answer. 

She totally wasn’t that big before. And apparently it was his fault? His… belief? 

Danny was hovering in the more figurative, mother hen way now (literal not being optional at the moment), and Jason could feel his tension now that he was focused. He’d gotten closer, his aura putting him just behind Jason’s shoulder, but hadn’t gone further.  

Not moving between them, which he already had the feeling would have been Danny’s preference after the gala. Jason would tease him about that if he hadn’t already put himself between the stranger and Danny without thinking. At least Danny hadn’t actually done it. 

Whether that was because they weren’t in any danger or Danny was waiting for his go ahead didn’t actually matter; Jason couldn’t quite believe either of them would walk away from a fight with Lady Gotham no matter that Danny was the king. 

A part of him deeper than the pit knew that she would never fight him. That it was his job to fight for her, to make sure she never dirtied her hands more than the streets already did. 

Forcing himself to suck in a breath - and wondering why his lungs ached - Jason gave her hand a hesitant squeeze. Tried not to think about how ludicrously small his hand was tucked into the curl of her fingers. 

“Uh… I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but…” he paused, words failing him, and wondered how the actual fuck you were supposed to talk to a whole ass city’s soul all at once. 

Lady Gotham laughed softly, giving his cheek (and consequently whole damn head) a gentle pat before pulling away, leaning back to sit as if in an invisible chair and regard him. 

“But we’ve known each other from the day you were born,” she agreed gently, her voice still heartbreakingly warm. 

No one had ever been so open in their love for him. It all but coloured the air in a rosy pink. 

And alright, that was probably at least 90% because his family were in constant contest for Most Emotionally Constipated Soul On Earth and Alfred was British, but Jason still had no idea how to handle it. He had her full, undivided attention, which part of him knew he’d never had in the physical city. 

She had so many protectors watching over her, even the crankiest parts of Jason couldn’t begrudge her that. He wasn’t exactly sure he was enjoying it now. 

“Ask,” she said softly, gently, the word still echoing around them but in a way that suddenly seemed more enclosed. More private. The echo of a bathroom instead of a grand cavern. 

Sucking in another deep breath, Jason realized he had about a thousand questions. But he had to start with the most pressing. 

“That shadow, what was it? It was… following the others, all of them. And you called it your son?” 

She’d called him her son too, and for the first time since he’d died the word didn’t rankle. But that could be the next question. 

The smile she gave him was blatantly approving and she waved a hand gently, a patch of smog in her surrounding cloud suddenly taking on a darker, more solid shape. It wasn’t the shadow itself, there was none of the buzzing adrenaline or life in its movements. Just a facsimile. 

He still kind of wanted the All-Blades. Just, y’know, for evil testing. 

“Yes, your… brother,” Lady Gotham said slowly, rolling the word over her lips as if tasting it. “That is the Curse of Gotham. Older than the city itself, technically, but before more people came it was simply a malevolence on a patch of land.” 

She waved a hand, dispelling the temporarily solidified smog easily. 

“It was only once the city was founded, then filled with souls and then despair and superstition and belief that he became a true Curse. As you are mine, the rogues are his. Bearing his mark, flying his flag, putting fear and doubt into every soul as they huddle against the chaos and swear to each other that there is a darkness here like no other.” 

Somehow, this did not endear Jason to his “brother”. It didn’t please Danny either, who leaned just a little into Jason’s shoulder, a sudden wariness pinging through his aura. 

“Wait, so the curse is older than you? Then why are you…” he trailed off, cheeks flushing suddenly as he asked what Jason was pretty sure was the least important question. 

Gotham bestowed him with a gentle, somewhat less fond smile too. Favouritism where he was the favourite kinda make Jason’s skin buzz. 

“As I said, it was the city which gave him form. Land can hold a myriad of curses, and any city built here would certainly have felt his affects. But belief…” she paused for a moment, lips pursing as she considered her next words. 

Yellow eyes flicked back towards Jason, measuring him, and her smile spread into something distinctly self satisfied. 

“Belief matters, for the Neverborn. It’s food and drink, our lifeblood, a source of power. And people believed in Gotham long before they made more than jokes about the curse. No one says that Gotham is on cursed land; they speak of Gotham’s Curse. And so he is mine.” 

Jason got the distinct impression that while everything was well established now, it had been more touch and go at one point… close enough that having won was still a point of pride. He didn’t even realize he was smiling back. 

It was also probably what she’d meant before… when she’d grown. His belief fed her. Which… kinda meant that him thinking they couldn’t possibly win a fight was a self fulfilling prophecy. 

Not quite sure if that was funny or worrying, Jason dismissed the thought and refocused. Some curse was still stalking his family after all, and probably him when he went back to the living world. 

“So if this Curse owns all the rogues… is he going to try and hurt the others?” He asked cautiously. Because if none of this was new, the Curse had been stalking them all since they put on the cowls. 

How many close calls… 

No. Jason hadn’t been in Gotham when Joker got him. He’d thought it was the arrogance of youth that had made him feel invulnerable in Gotham as a Robin, but now he knew there really had been hands hovering over him. 

Hands that hadn’t dropped him until he’d left the city. Half the world away and all alone, still sure he was invulnerable… right up until he wasn’t. 

He only realized his attention had been drifting when he snapped back, a large and achingly gentle thumb brushing his cheek. Now bigger than his head, still smelling of the smog of the city. 

Lady Gotham smiled gently, the dark bats in her eyes crinkling. 

“He is no danger to you,” she told him softly, focusing on the question that was asked. Not his wandering thoughts, though he got the feeling she knew anyway. 

Drawing back, she looked thoughtfully from him to Danny, taking another drag on her traffic cone, apparently thinking. Held the smogs in for a long moment, until she seemed to come to a conclusion and blew out a long stream. 

“The Curse makes the rogues; takes those already on the edge of something bad, and pushes them over. Turns the stagnation of despair into frantic, violent action. It is what he is, what he does… a lingering rot land deep, which feeds on the darkness and breeds more in the souls of Gotham’s inhabitants.” 

That definitely sounded like something dangerous to Jason, but who was he to interrupt Gotham herself? A sidelong glance made him wonder if she’d caught that thought too; just how well could she read him? 

She waved the smouldering traffic cone in his general direction, blanketing him in a wave of almost comforting black smog. 

“And yet, you notice, so few of the rogues seek to  permanently remove any of your heroes from the board?” 

Danny sucked in a sharp breath beside him, Jason’s heart clenched, but before either could protest, Lady Gotham gave a heavy sigh and inclined her head, smile slipping entirely for the first time. 

“The Joker is an unfortunate exception. There is… something worse there, deeper, darker, but I will explain later. For now, consider the others. So many who could, so many chances that they could have taken to kill each of you. I would not allow it, of course, yet even those who wish to see Batman permanently defeated rarely even try to end his life. It is not for no reason.” 

There was a true solemnity, almost pain in her face as she spoke of the Joker, eyes fixed on Jason and full of sorrow. Yet nothing in her aura, no push of regret-sadness or anything similar. Nothing to affect his own emotions, and Jason had the feeling that that was deliberate. 

As if she knew how much he hated being controlled, pushed around. Or she just… didn’t want to do that to him. It was tough to say, but he was also self aware enough to know he was puzzling that out rather than thinking much about her words. 

Of course the Joker was something worse than the fucking Curse of Gotham. Naturally. And y’know what else he was? 

Not Jason’s fucking problem right now. 

Lady Gotham had paused with him, waiting for his acknowledgment apparently, and Jason gave a stiff nod for her to continue. He’d asked the damn question. He needed to focus on the answer. 

A gentle incline of her head the only sign she’d seen anything at all, Lady Gotham continued. 

“The Curse will not harm your family, and nor do most of the rogues seek to actually remove you, because your family’s activities are integral to powering the Curse,” she said simply, and that snapped any fragments of Jason’s attention firmly back into place as he stiffened. 

Danny tensed beside him as well, still hanging back, but it was Jason who spoke. He didn’t need help on this one. 

“Wait, what? How the hell are we helping the Curse?!” He demanded, brows furrowing. 

If the Curse made the rogues by taking people on the edge and throwing them off, sure, that kinda made sense. Gotham had always been a cesspit of crime, but it used to be at least 85% less brightly spandex coloured before the Bat came along. 

Much as Jason didn’t think Bruce took his mission far enough, he could admit that at least the “normal” gang violence had died down significantly. For one thing, most of the old gangs had been driven out by the rogues, or absorbed by converts like Penguin and Black Mask. There wasn’t much space in Gotham these days for just run-of-the-mill crime. 

And Jason himself had gouged a chunk out of what was left, which he used to find extremely satisfying… but how would that help the Curse? Unless… the Curse had pushed that darkness in him…

Lady Gotham shook her head, that fond smile curling sadly at her lips as she reached down to gently tip his chin up with a massive finger. 

“No, my dear… you are not helping the Curse. He could no longer exist without you,” she explained softly, the dark and dusty smogs building heavily around them. Just seeing them made Jason’s throat itch… 

He clenched his jaw shut, focusing on her face instead. Waiting for that to make some fucking sense. 

Lady Gotham hummed thoughtfully, holding his chin a moment longer before releasing him, waving a hand vaguely through the smoggy air. 

“It is… contrast. There are no shadows without the light, no sweet without bitterness, no… no hope without despair. And no despair without hope.” She seemed pleased with the metaphor, bat signal eyes bright in suddenly building gloom. Which then fixed on him. 

“When people lose hope… when they give up on Gotham, accept the awfulness in their lives as mundane, it drains them of their will, their power to believe. If nothing fights the Curse, pushes back on the tides of corruption, then who’s to say there is a curse at all? Just mundane bad governance. Certainly nothing unique about that, in this world.” 

A hand cut through thick black clouds and Jason realized abruptly that he’d lost sight of everything but her eyes, shining in the darkness. And then the shadows spiralled in front of him, whipped by her fingers into a familiar black silhouette. 

“But the Bats… the birds, all of Gotham’s caped defenders? No other city in the world could fail to be safe under your constant attentions. No other city could take the stream of wealth and charity Bruce Wayne pours into it and be less than utopian. And yet Gotham remains, a far better city than the one you were born in, but still one of the most dangerous places to live in this country.” 

The shadowy bat began to glow, lined in a bright golden light, yet somehow it only made the surrounding shadows all the darker. It swished its cape, striking at invisible foes, and the clouds curled in around it. 

“What else but a curse could cause this? And what a powerful curse it must be, with a new vigilante showing every month, and still not a dent?” 

The blackness around them grew darker still, the bat’s glow suddenly seeming weak and fragile. Jason’s chest lurched, his heart screaming to reach out and catch the faltering figure, pull it close and keep it safe, but he stamped it down. 

It wasn’t Bruce in danger. It was just a light-show, a visual demonstration. And it sure as hell didn’t need his protection. 

And then a skewer of pure blackness plunged through its heart and the golden glow winked out, leaving them in pitch darkness. 

Jason’s heart clenched, a dread chill running down his spine and he spun around, searching for Lady Gotham and her searchlight eyes, but he couldn’t see anything. Not even Danny, who always glowed faintly in his ghost form. 

Still, her voice continued, completely calm and unshakeable. 

“If the symbol falls… if the Bat is broken, the Curse will gain a great deal of power for a day. Perhaps a generation. And then people will forget, and forget that they believed, and it will wane once again. A much worse loss, now that he knows the power he can have.” 

The billowing clouds of darkness pulled back and the glowing green of the Ghost Zone almost made Jason shield his eyes. They hadn’t moved, of course they hadn’t; Danny was still right beside him, his aura a heavy throb of new understanding-exasperated-mildly amuse.  

Which… well, yeah, now that he could breathe again Jason could admit it had all been pretty dramatic. If she was his first ghost, he’d have assumed it was just a Gotham thing, but Danny was also a dramatic little shit, so. 

Sucking in a deep breath, Jason blew it out slowly, calming the beating of his heart. Lady Gotham looked quite pleased with herself, still sat reclined a little ways away. 

It was one hell of a powerpoint, and he was pretty sure he’d got the gist of things. Not that it made any of this make sense, but it was pretty much what he’d expect from magic. 

“So… the Curse makes the rogues, to make people think the city is cursed, but it also wants to keep the vigilantes safe…” a phrase from an old book tugged at his mind, and Jason couldn’t resist a slight smile, “because you gain status by the quality of your enemies?” 

It startled a short laugh from Danny, quickly stifled as Lady Gotham beamed her approval. 

“In essence, yes. The struggle will be unending, because it must be, but we have come to… an understanding of late. Despair and death feed my Curse in the immediate sense, but when both are only to be expected… it’s a paltry meal. There is inevitability, even boredom, when it’s all despair all the time. So now the city has hope, and I prosper.” 

Lady Gotham preened, plumping up her perfectly round curls, the same self satisfied smile she’d had when mentioning how she had become the dominant spirit. Maybe the Curse hadn’t quite worked out just how much she got out of their little understanding too. Then she shrugged. 

“And the rogues have their little obsessions, their tricks and games, and sometimes there is despair and sometimes there is death. But what matters is that you are there to fight against it, to nobly win the battle…” 

“Even if we’ll never win the war,” Jason finished grimly, his mood souring. 

Wasn’t that what he’d always told Bruce? That his damn rules, his “No Killing” standard meant that everything else he did was pointless? That just locking people up in the bloody sieve that was Arkham was never going to change anything? 

Lady Gotham’s smile softened to something bittersweet and sad, and she nodded gently. 

“Gotham city will never know peace, Jason,” she told him gently, and suddenly she was smaller again, scant feet taller than him, and holding out a hand he’d be able to close his own around. “It will never be like any other city. But the only reason I stand at all is because people like you will look at this city, with its soot and its smuts and its people who have nowhere else to go, and decide that it is worth fighting for.” 

Those eyes were fixed on him again, black bats on yellow lights, and then suddenly… suddenly the irises were black, and the bats a familiar deep red. It might have been a blink; it might just have been that sharp moment of change. 

“There is one way that the war will end,” she told him softly, stepping closer through the void until he could have counted the pearls skittering across her dress, and every jet bead around them, if he could have looked away from her face. 

“On the day that those heroes turn away, that all else give up on Gotham and turn their backs. When no one stands against the tide of night and it is dragged down and away into the dark heart of the Cursed land beneath. It is only hope that stands in the way of that end, my Jason Todd… my Robin.” 

His brow furrowed and a fleeting smirk dashed across her lips, the faintest flicker of her gaze to Danny beside him, and Jason understood. It wasn’t Robin’s colours in her eyes, no matter what Damian had done to the suit. 

Her Red Hood. 

But she wouldn’t out him to Danny, not even now. 

His gaze fell to her hand again, suddenly bare and dark and open and nails that were a rich, bloody red. His blood, and Bruce’s, and every vigilante, and every citizen, and every rogue that stood, and fought, and died for her. Every life that was ruined or ended, all in this fight that could never be won, only lost. 

He met her gaze again, felt the red bat he’d emblazoned across his chest once more pierce his soul. 

Because… this was what it really meant, to wear the bat. Not just that he had forgiven Bruce, that they’d reconciled, that he’d rejoined the family. That he wasn’t going to kill unless he had to, and there was no other choice. 

No. 

He wore the bat because he wasn’t just the Red Hood, a name he’d stolen from the damn clown and carved across the city in blood until people only thought of him when they said it. He wasn’t the crime lord who’d filled a bag with the heads of his rivals’ best lieutenants, took Crime Alley in a bloody fist, and was just another gang leader. Just a bigger, scarier, nastier guy than the people who’d wanted that alley before to strip mine its people and poison its kids. 

And sure, being that guy had worked. It kept the worse gangs out. Kept his street kids fed and occupied, and mostly out of jail. Did what all of Bruce’s crusade had never managed to do; he’d cleaned up Crime Alley. 

And it hadn’t been enough. 

Hadn’t made anyone feel safe; not when all they had was Red Hood’s whim that kept them from going right back to the mess they’d been left in. 

The Alley was different too, this last year. He’d always tried, as Hood and Jason. Wanted people to come together, build a community, to feel safe in their home and protect it. 

To feel like someone finally, actually cared about them. That someone cared about Crime Alley for its people, not what they could take from them. That they would be defended. 

And people had played along, back before he took the bat. They’d come out, cleaned up the street, fixed up some store fronts and made careful conversation, because that was what you did when the man with the big guns said he wanted you to play nice.

And they’d been wary, cautious, watching the Hood like he’d snap at any second no matter what Jay told them. And he’d known they were just… humouring him. Didn’t believe in it. And he’d thought the only way to get them to see was to keep going, keep giving back until they realized he really meant it all.

He’d patrolled since the first day he’d come back, but it had been the day he’d gone out in his modified uniform, the red bat on his chest, that things finally changed. 

His working girls and boys didn’t straighten up when he approached. The street kids didn’t run when his shadow passed overhead. People looked up into the night and they smiled, thanked him, reached out to the gang and left little red bat signs in their windows. 

With the red helmet and black body armour, he’d been just another thug to fear. And oh, he’d fucking hated it at first, turned his vision to sickly green that all this acceptance only came with B’s goddamn bat on his chest. 

When the kids tagged it on walls, dumpsters, taunting threats at the edge of their territory to every other gang in Gotham, they finally had a bat-approved protector. 

Never enough that he’d taken the bat off, though, and now he could see what all those little signs really said. 

“We have a protector too.” 

“Someone will find justice for us.” 

And, his personal favourite (love those little Alley bastards), “Our bat’s bigger than yours.” 

Bruce had put the shape on the symbol when he became the night and wanted to drive fear into the hearts of criminals instead of the ordinary citizens, but it wasn’t really his. It was Superman’s S, the symbol of the House of El, the symbol of Lady Gotham turned to something humans could see. 

The symbol of a protector, a guardian, and uniquely Gotham’s own. 

It was all there, in those red on black eyes, in that soft, knowing smile. 

“Have you ever backed down from a fight just because you knew you couldn’t win, Jason Todd?” She asked softly, so softly, and he had to smile back. 

She’d known him since the day he was born, and there was only one thing he could say to that.  

He took her hand. 

“Never.” 

——————

LISTEN Y’ALL I HAVE BEEN HOLDING THIS LADY GOTHAM REVEAL SO CLOSE TO THE CHEST.

HER DRESS. HER HAIR. HER GODDAMN TRAFFIC CONE! Anyway she’s wonderful and she’s perfect and she will be back next chapter too, but fuck knows when that will be, so! Hopefully a little less time than this last one, but We Shall See.

This chappy will go up on AO3 tomorrow, I usually try and do same day but I gotta be up early Yet Again and I still…. Haven’t done replies on the last one, so 😅

Wish me luck for the next chapter, I have SO MANY things planned and the outline is just sizzling and we are finally out of introductions territory and it’ll be time for the Plot! Ah, my beloved plot, which will hopefully pick up and speed things along a little more in-fic timewise…

Next Chapter:

Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf f @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake e @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish h @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof f @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 9 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson @asphyxia778 @why-must-i-be-like-this s @tkiesai @greenpyrowolf @frivolous-pastel @honeysuckletook @adorkable1291

[charmingsoa]

❖ Somewhere in the Vicinity of the Night: Sneak peak ❖ Callum Turner/ OC

The rain poured from the heavens – the sky angry and loud as the summer storm settled across the valley. The sound of thunder rumbled in the distance, matching the tumultuous emotions swirling between them.

“You just need to go,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the drumming of rain on the roof. The humid air wrapped around us, adding to the weight of the moment.

His large hand ran through his now short hair, a sign of frustration. “You can’t do this to me – not again, Cricket,” he pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation. I could see the pain in his eyes, mirroring my own inner turmoil.

A tear escaped my eye, betraying her facade of strength. I hastily wiped it away, refusing to let him see how deeply his words had affected me. “I can’t go back there without you,” he admitted, his voice cracking with emotion. “We don’t even have to go back to California – anywhere you want, and we will go.”

The silence that followed was deafening, the only sound the relentless patter of rain on the window. We stood facing each other, caught in a moment that felt like an eternity, each waiting for the other to make a move, to say something that would break the impasse between us.

He took a step forward, closing the distance between us. His hand reached out, hesitated for a moment, then gently cupping my cheek. “I don’t want to lose you, Cricket,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. “I’ll go wherever you go. Just don’t leave me.”

My eyes connected with his – the same eyes I had spent days and nights just staring into – getting lost in those beautiful green eyes. “You don’t belong here, Callum,” I said, my voice straining with the weight of my emotions. “And I can’t let you lose everything you’ve worked so hard for just to be with me – that’s not fair to me, and it’s definitely not fair to you.”

His hand dropped to his side as he backed up, a look of resignation crossing his features. I could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between his love for me and his desire to respect my wishes. The tension in the room was palpable, a silent acknowledgment of the difficult choice that lay before us.

“I can’t just walk away, Cricket,” he replied, his voice tinged with sadness. “I can’t imagine my life without you in it. We can find a way to make it work, together.”

Shaking my head, “This-“I gestured between us. “This was never supposed to happen.” He rolled his eyes, stepping in place. “We come from two completely different worlds, and it would never work between us. You know it, and I know it too. I mean, look what happened on the red carpets, those snakes ate me and my family alive – branding us the new Beverly Hillbillies – I’m not gonna put them th-“

“I don’t give a shit what those Hollywood pretentious assholes say or think – I fucking love you, Elizabeth,” he declared, his hands grabbing onto my shoulders with a fierce intensity. “I fucking love you, your family – I love everything about you.”

His face mere inches from mine, the closest we’ve been since our last night together. How I wanted to just wrap my arms around his strong neck and crash my lips onto his, but I couldn't. If I did, I knew I would never be able to turn away from him.

“Please just go,” I pleaded, my voice a simple whisper, laced with a mixture of longing and resignation. “Before we make things worse.”

The air between us crackled with unspoken desire and the weight of our shared history. Every fiber of my being yearned to bridge the gap between us, to give in to the magnetic pull drawing us together. But I knew deep down that succumbing to that temptation would only complicate an already fragile situation.

Pulling away from his hold, I stepped back into the house, the screen door becoming a barrier between us. “Just leave, Callum,” I stated firmly, my tone leaving no room for negotiation. “Just go and don’t come back here.”

Before he could argue, I slammed the old wooden door in his face, the sound reverberating through the quiet room. Leaning my head against the cool wood, I closed my eyes, trying to block out the tumult of emotions swirling inside me.

Outside, a string of harsh curse words flew out of his mouth, the muffled sound a jarring contrast to the tranquility of the rain-soaked evening. Each word felt like a dagger, piercing through the fragile shield I had erected around my heart.

As the reality of my actions settled in, a wave of doubt and regret washed over me. Had I made the right choice? Was shutting him out the only way to protect myself from further heartache? The questions swirled in my mind, echoing the storm raging both outside and within.

[ariesmusingz]

૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ╱    MANIC DREAM PIXIE SENTENCE STARTERS ( created using lyrics from peach prc's manic dream pixie ep. feel free to adjust to fit your muse. )

"i know your favourite pair of jeans"

"i'll lay them out when you leave"

"i'll make you breakfast, coffee black"

"receipts told me that you like that"

"i was thinking spring, silver wedding rings"

"i've picked out all our baby names"

"i'm kind of obsessed"

"you're kinda famous"

"don't wanna be friends"

"you're not a phase"

"i know you don't know me yet"

"my obsession know you well"

"take me out backstage"

"i know all the names of every song you played"

"one day you'll write about us too"

"i can be your muse when we say i do"

"you might love me if you knew me"

"you're gonna love me soon enough"

"you're gonna love me"

"i'm your biggest fan"

"can we go outside for a walk?"

"they told me you guys were hitting it off"

"she kissed me in the bathroom"

"it's just for attention"

"i'm making her jealous"

"you guessed it"

"i'm not a good friend but she doesn't know that"

"she's gonna hate me but i want you so bad"

"kiss me"

"i'm not scared if she's gone"

"i'm done tryna play it fair"

"i don't care"

"touch me"

"i'm alone"

"i want you on your own"

"she might want you but i do too"

"baby i'm perfect for you"

"harley had a party you were at"

"you were in boots and a cowboy hat"

"jenna said you knew my music"

"now i can't betray her"

"i'm in your sweater"

"don't wanna upset her"

"i can do what she can do so much better"

"i know it's been a while since you've seen me"

"i heard you're doing well now with your comedy"

"i reminisce nostalgic bits of 90s hits"

"we listened, do you miss it?"

"have you thought of it since?"

"if you still think of me, i'd love to meet for coffee"

"if i could just see your face, i'd look into your eyes"

"i hate your jokes and don't think you're funny"

"i hope you choke, go broke, lose your money"

"know that you were the worst forty five seconds i had in my life"

"i hope your conscious haunts you at night"

"fuck you and goodbye"

"a couple therapists are now familiar"

"by the way, i caught up with your ex"

"we shared regrets and most of them were sex with you"

"i'd sit down at your table and scream if i was able"

"thanks to you, gentle hands still resemble demands"

"loving lips on my mouth feel like currency now"

"thanks to you i fear kind"

"now i can't spend the night"

"i bet we were a couple bugs just living in the mud, happily in love doing bug stuff"

"i think i met you in a store in 1944"

"i probably wrote you letters while you went off to the war"

"we could have been two birds"

"now wouldn't that be so absurd?

"maybe just lost lovers that keep getting rediscovered"

"i think i loved you before back when we were dinosaurs"

"i wanna stay in love in this life and the next one"

"i think we've already met somewhere on another planet"

"i wanna stay in love in this life and the next one"

"i loved you before"

"i loved you"

"maybe you loved me on a trip, two pirates on a ship"

"counting all our gold as the boat tipped"

"could we have been there drinking win in medieval times?"

"forever just lost lovers that keep getting rediscovered"

"if i'm the sun and you're the moon"

"if it's over soon we'll go back through"

"i try not to compare a teenage love cause i know that isn't fair"

"why can't i just shut up?"

"i'm always going on about you when i'm drunk"

"i see your name in every numberplate"

"i tried to erase your fave but you're there everyday"

"you're my favourite person"

"i have created a version that hurts less"

"I had to tell myself you're toxic"

"better off cause you're the problem"

"really, i just couldn't take it"

"being hated by my favourite person"

"i tried to fall but i can't cause they're not you"

"i hate that i'll never stop thinking that we're not still home growing up"

"i hear your tropes in all my stupid jokes"

"i'm starting to lose all hope of ever letting go"

"if the world was ending i know i'd be spending my last day pretending we were fine"

"when we both grow old with families of our own"

"i'll probably always go back in my mind"

"someone kissed my closing eyelinds"

"i made it mean more than it did"

"someone put a plate down a little too loud"

"now i still flinch whenever i hear the sound"

"as i'm getting older, i learned my mumma was just trying her best"

"not that i owe her forgiveness but i'm sorry to that girl in a dress"

"if you wanna wear pink, i'll wear it for you"

"if you wanna dance then i'll strap up my shoes"

"if you wanna sing then consider it sung"

"i'm sorry that you had to grown up this young"

"forget that love is earned cause it was always deserved"

"i know you had to work hard just to show them your worth"

"remember that a plate is nothing but a plate"

"even if it breaks, we can throw it away"

"i learned that i was only trying my best"

"i think i owe her a deep breath"

"she was the strongest little girl in a dress"

"you were the strongest little fighter who carried me here"

"i know that you're tired from surviving in fear"

"now i got us for the rest of our life"

[ammwriting]

Bad Habits

Part 3

Angel Torres x Jupes Assistant!Reader

Requested? Absolutely not.

A/N: Thank you all for the support on this series, it seriously means the most to me. I've alway wanted to contribute to a fandom or a community in some way so I'm glad you guys are enjoying it. I've been going through a lot in my personal life (dumb I know) so I appreciate everyone's patience with this follow up!

I didn't even realize the Haywood's had stopped walking with us, I was more worried about finally questioning this guy now that we were alone for the first time in the last week on the status of our "relationship". I'll admit that was even putting it out there a bit, but I don't think strangers/mutual acquaintances would be sharing a bed the way we were at this point.

"So do you have a girlfriend?"

I'm so fucking stupid. I've only been sharing a bed with him for a week and I'm going to ask that now? If I were lucky I could just blame it on...unfortunate recent developments, i.e. an assumed alien eating my boss, which I think would be a reasonable excuse in this case.

"Um...no. I mean I did! But she broke up with me. She booked a pilot on the CW and dumped me after four years. I mean it's fine. She was a model and actress, Rebecc-"

"What the fuck? You can't just drop that you just broke up with your model-slash-actress girlfriend of four fucking years dude! We slept in the same bed!"

It only took me halfway through his statement to realize he wasn't really over it, and it was my own fault for asking honestly, but still...did he like me? Does this shit even matter at this point? Well in that case, fair enough. Maybe it's just me, but he could've said something before we started sharing joints and, I don't know, beds?

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to yell at you...but you could have mentioned at any point before this one that you just broke up with a girlfriend of four years...who has since gone on to be an actress and model...for the C-fucking-W"

I was trying to be sympathetic I mean who wants to get dumped over some shit like that?

"...the CW fucking sucks."

I looked up and he was looking at me after he said it. Not talking directly to or glancing over at me.

Looking.

How long had it been since someone talked to me? Apparently a long fucking time since I started tearing up over it, but really was it so hard to look at someone and say something nice? Was it nice or am I desperate? Probably both but luckily for him I was willing to risk it all for just that statement.

________________________L O A D I N G__________________________

Getting back to the Haywood's Ranch was the worst decision I think I've ever made in my current life, like, who's idea was it? Well obviously it was the Haywood's since OJ was ready to catch this thing on camera if it was the last thing he did.

At this point it just might be.

When we made it back we saw the filmography extraordinaire himself, Antlers, standing there. He was looking at the "cloud" over on the edge of the farm when we walked up before he mentioned it hadn't moved in hours. Why was he staring at it for hours? Who knows it's probably a film thing, but he did have a vibe about him that just screamed "Whatever it takes to get the shot" and I could feel it.

We had a meeting where we picked...monopoly pieces. That's right! God damn monopoly pieces to represent our part in this get rich or die trying scheme. Obviously I chose the battleship and informed them I'd be with Em watching the cameras until they went out and we'd eventually make a break for the house ideally.

We had one night before shit went off and I intended to make everything as clear as I could before we potentially died tomorrow.

We saw ourselves out to a sitting room in the Haywoods house,

"So if I said when all this shit is over, when "Jean Jacket" is dead, and we have our picture...we're going on a date right? I would say I don't want to assume, but to be honest I don't think I can sleep or exist without you nearby and hopefully it's vice versa?"

That was a lot...based on the way he was staring at me, and he wasn't saying anything. Fuck. Fuck I totally jumped the gun on this, who says that?

"Is this rejection? Are you turning me down? Oh my god, this is embarrassing, I totally thought we were on the same page. Why didn't you say anything? Dude I thought this was a trauma bond for life and it's not-"

"No! No, oh my god no! I just wasn't expecting you to bring it up, but I shouldn't be surprised because of how we've been going so far honestly." He pauses and looks at me. "You've been very forward I mean-"

"I know what you mean" I deadpan back.

"...I might be able to get the time off for a date, but it might just be Denny's or something. If that's cool...with you...?"

I looked back at him after being so fucking embarrassed about being almost brushed off by the cutest loser I'd ever met thus far, but I saw nothing but sincerity to the point it was almost insecurity. That definitely made me feel better about asking in the first place that he was just as nervous as me.

"Yeah. I'd like that. Let's survive this fucking cosmic horror tomorrow...and maybe we can even spend the night again."

________________________L O A D I N G__________________________

The whole function went to complete shit not even one full hour after it'd commenced. I didn't even think it was possible for something to go so wrong after it'd just started honestly.

Antlers and Angel were up on a small hill a small distance away, in sight but definitely out of range should anything go wrong while me and Em were in the house setting up speakers while she chose something to play for...hype? Motivation? I'm not too sure but I'm not saying anything to my only company and the one person who's holding me down right now cause I was about to piss myself.

I had given Angel a brief goodbye after our agreement the night before. If we both live, then we'll leave here together. If.

I'll be honest I don't remember much after me and Em went to the shack to check the cameras. I remember the douche on the motorcycle showing up, yelling at him to get lost with his weird chrome helmet? Him completely ignoring me and riding out to play investigator, crashing, and getting fucking eaten by JJ.

I remember watching Antlers die for the perfect shot.

I remember beginning to watch JJ come back for Him, Angel, before looking away because I couldn't take it if she grabbed him.

Finally I remember running back to the shack to look at the cameras, at OJ, the guy who saved me that night after I'd lost what I deemed everything. My job, my boss, and my future within a few hours. Then the roof was ripped away, Em and I carried up with it.

Then she dropped us.

When I woke up I was face down on the dirt, my left leg not responding to my drive to stand up and the sun setting in the distance. JJ was in her full form. A fucking nightmare. That's what this all was, one big fucking nightmare.

I could see what looked like...the Jupe balloon? Kid Sheriff? Floating towards her before it "looked" at her and she...swallowed it? I don't know...I don't know what's happening.

Then there he was. My Angel. Sat down in the dirt almost like he was waiting for me. wrapped in a blue tarp I recognized as the one he Antlers were under what felt like years ago, but in reality was only a few hours ago.

I limped for a few feet before I fell and started crawling towards him before he noticed and started limping towards me on the ground. I hadn't even realized I started crying and it was slowly turning into sobbing. I rolled on my back looking at the sky as the sun disappeared behind the hills and was just heaving as I sobbed.

He made it to me and threw himself on the ground before he finished crawling to me, picking my head up and cradling it in his hands. I could see him through my tears just barely, trying to control my breathing enough to focus on him.

"It's over? It's done? Please tell me...-"

"It's done! We're okay! They did it, we're okay!" he kept saying while trying to push may hair and tears away. I don't know if OJ was okay. Or if Em was okay. Antlers was dead and almost took my Angel with him.

I was alive. I did next to nothing, but I'm alive and my Angel and I were free.

[dreamingbrownie]

Rewrite your stories until they tell you the truth.

This quote from Cornelia Funke in a Zoom Q&A I had the honour to be part of last January has genuinely changed the way I write. For those of you outside the German-speaking countries; Cornelia Funke is one of Germany's most popular teenage- and young adult novel authors, her bibliography at this point eclipses that of some history professors of mine, and her books are what got me into writing 15 years ago. I'm 26 now, so like many of us in fandom spaces, I started very young, got around a lot on the internet, and had my fair share of creator burnout over the years. I also have ADHD, unmedicated for a lot of reasons I won't get into here, so the wip curse is strong in me. I currently have three big longfic wips in three different fandoms - Yuri on Ice, Fantastic Beasts and Merlin BBC - all of which are just lacking the ending. I have worked on all of those for more than a year and a half now. Up until a few days ago, I felt like What few still understand, my House of the Dragon Long Night do-over, would become one of them.

Being on tumblr for something upwards of eight years now (and having created a tumblr account for the sole reason to keep up with the Sherlock BBC Season 4 speculations ahead of the disastrous launch), I have seen a variation on the "we are authors, not creators, for fuck's sake stop capitalizing fandom" post every other week on here for years now. And as wholeheartedly as I agree with that statement, somehow I failed to internalize it. To make it true for myself, for my works, the time and effort I put into them. I don't know if university has made me a chronic perfectionist or the rejection sensitivity aspect of ADHD, either way, I have a high standard for my own work inside and outside of fandom, which isn't a bad thing persé but lately i have found myself dissatisfied with my works as I was writing them. Coming back to them a couple days afterwards usually shows me what sections really do work and what needs editing.

"Re-write your stories until they tell you the truth" - I was never a fan of thinking of a story as a first draft, as the sand you just build your castle out of the second or even third go-around. Writing long fanfictions takes enough time as is, and living with chronic pain especially in my arms, I probably should be writing less than I already am. But this time, with What few still understand, I really tried to follow that advice from one of the authors I admire most in the world: Why does this conversation between three characters feel off? Why do I keep working on it in the back of my head like nagging a loose tooth on the way to work, why does this scene feel wrong days after I have written it? Why did I keep procrastinating the finale? (Because I hate writing battles. That's why.) Now, recently I have been reading everything dear Cecil (@softest-punk) over in the Sandman fandom puts out, and one thing they said a while ago also really stuck with me: Fanfiction isn't the published book world (thank the stars), so we're all just playing doll together. We can have our cake and eat it too. And somehow, this clashes with my perfectionism despite that it resonates with me so much.

So, lately I have been trying to find the golden middle for myself. At which point am I satisfied enough with my writing that I can publish it online and be okay with the result, and what does it take to get to that point without obsessing over the details? How do I get rid of the demon of doubt on my shoulder making the pain worse because I spent too many hours on my laptop pouring over the Targaryen family dynamics in this fix-it world I accidentally created? Let's leave aside this volatile fandom making my anxiety over publishing worse; what I am hoping to achieve is to brighten some people's day. If I am yanking on their heartstrings in the process, promise there's always a happy ending waiting at the end of my stories. I just have to find that happy ending to my own creation process, and that is going to take time, I suppose.

[crmsnmth]

September Sky Chapter Seven, Part 2

"Yeah. If someone dies in the night, someone has to go and pick the body up and bring it back."

"Makes sense. "

"I couldn't figure it out the first time she said it either."

An old man with white hair and more of it in his nose and ears then on the top, slowly walked by with a cane. He was wearing a wool sweater. And he just kept a friendly smile on his face as he headed for the door. Fuel was a melting pot. At any given moment there was at least a couple older folks playing chess as the drank strong muddy black coffee. A handful of college students would be in, studying, their cups of bean juice forgotten. And there was a few people like me. The outcasts of the misfits. We sat alone, sipping our caffeine and just watching the world pass.

"How's things been going with Amy?" I asked. Even with Chad, I preferred to keep my personal life private. Of course, he knew everything anyway just by being around me. The guy could feel what I was going to feel. He was that good.

"Alright. Nothing serious yet. She does stay at my place now more than her own though." I'd never spent much time around Amy. She came around right as I was packing my bags. I really knew very little about her.

"That's good, I think?"

"Yeah, it is. I think we're pretty much together. Just no labels." Chad took a sip from his coffee.

"Why not? Not that it matters. Is there some reason you guys aren't labeling it anything? It's been long enough, I'd assume. And if you're always together anyway what's the big deal?"

"I'm not really sure. Any time it gets brought up, she says she just wants to have fun." A guy on a bike flew past us.

"Ok, I mean I guess I can kind of get that." I lied through my teeth. "I mean as long as you guys are cool with that."

Chad shrugged. His beard had gotten longer since the last time I saw him. He looked older. Tougher, even. Chad already had a large build. The beard made him look like a human boulder. He looked around, taking in sights that weren't normally his to see.

"I don't know if I am, man." He finally said, his attention stuck on a group of hipsters walking the opposite sidewalk. A look of annoyance. Hipsters were the enemy. In all reality, we were the worst hipsters of all.

"What do you mean?"

"I think I love her." I can't say I was expecting those words to come out of Chad's mouth. Sure, he'd been in plenty of relationships, and I'm sure he's said those three words to his fair share, but Chad was quiet about these kind of emotions. I didn't know if it made him uncomfortable or if he just was the type to not share.

"For real?" I asked, trying to hide the surprise in my voice. We'd been friends for years, and this was one of the very few things I'd never really heard him talk much about. I mean, we'd talked about relationships plenty of times, but he'd never really mentioned love much before. I had plenty of times. Can you believe I used to fall in super fast?

"Yeah, I think so. I'm not sure what else it could be. I really think I love her." It was still strange to hear those words come out of his mouth.

"Did you tell her yet?" I asked.

"No. Not yet. I'm going to have to, huh?" There was a sad look on his face.

"I mean, yeah, eventually. You can't just skip that part."

"I fucking hate this part."

"Understandable."

Chad sighed and took another sip. I lit a cigarette, unsure of what to say. In all the time we'd been friends, there were very few awkward silences, but sitting outside of that coffee shop was probably the most awkward.

"What time are we meeting Alana?" I asked.

[chasesvillainera]

The Great Sebchase Rewrite: Under Seige

Will I actually finish this who knows? But this idea has consumed me

Also there’s no way I’m writing these in order, but lmk if there’s a specific episode you’re hoping to see

Sebastian was honestly impressed with himself, for how quickly he had ruined his own life. If that was a bionic ability, he’d be top of the class.

A few flashes of memories, and he turned on his new life for some “creator” he couldn’t even remember? He couldn’t explain it himself.

Chase had saved him. Again. Showed him what Krane really was, why they had to take him out.

But not before he blew up the Hydroloop tunnel, and loudly declared to the academy that he was rebelling. Davenport and the others gave him another chance, but the damage was done. He went from the top student, dating one of the original bionics, and beloved by the mentors, to the traitor. People whispered when he walked by, no one trusted him to be alone in secured areas anymore, and worst of all, Chase was disappointed in him.

After the attempted rebellion, once they saved Davenport and Perry from the Hydroloop, all he wanted to do was thank Chase for stopping him before he went too far. For saving his life again.

But Chase just looked at him, face stony and hard with disdain that surpassed even their first weeks at the Academy, when they had “hated each other”. (Sebastian preferred to think of it as unique flirting, but the point stood).

“I don’t want to see you right now.” Chase had said, before storming back to the mentor’s quarters.

Sebastian was left alone with Adam, Bree, and Leo, all glaring at him like he was the dirt from their shoes. He shuffled back to the dorms to await Mr. Davenport’s punishment.

It wasn’t so bad, considering the attempted murder, but he was miserable.

He stayed in the dorms for a week, too embarrassed to face the world. Hoping every sound was Chase finally coming to see him, if only to tell him off and dump him officially.

Eventually, he came.

“Hi,” Sebastian jumped up from where he’d been sitting, “you came! Thank you!”

Chase raised his hand to stop him. “Don’t be nervous. I just want to talk.”

“Right. Of course.” Sebastian’s heart sank. He was expecting this, but it didn’t mean he was looking forward to it. “I should start with apologizing, again. I…can’t explain how I reacted to what you told me. I panicked, and I did something unforgivable.”

“I do understand, you know. I’ve done my fair share of stupid things in emotional situations. Remind me to tell you about the Avalanche. But I have to protect my family, first.”

“I get that. It’s…what I thought I was doing, avenging my father. Probably shouldn’t have relied on Triton app memories to make that decision.”

And then, a miracle happened. Chase actually laughed. He’d missed that laugh so much.

“Do the others know you’re here?” Sebastian asked.

“Yes. Adam said something about second chances, Leo just sighed, and Bree went on a rant about my horrible taste in men. I don’t think I’ve heard Douglas say ‘that’s a bad idea’ so many times in a row since Adam got into the lab.”

“Ah,” Seb sighed. That was fair. He was hoping Chase would get on with it, break up with him already instead of dragging it out.

But then…he didn’t. He fucking forgave him, because Sebastian had fallen in love with the most perfect man ever.

Everyone else distrusting him didn’t matter as much, when he had Chase.

—-

It had been about a month since then, and things had returned to…a state of normal.

Adam no longer looked at him like he wanted to kill him, at least.

All Sebastian could do now was work hard, keep his head down, and try to atone.

And it wasn’t like there was no good in his life.

“Hey,” he swung an arm around Chase after training had ended, “what’s up?”

He didn’t think he’d stop hanging on Chase like a koala any time soon. Sue him.

“Someone broke into our room last night. Smashed up Leo’s tablet.”

“Was it Perry’s niece? Did you catch her?”

“No,” Chase sighed, “we thought that too, but then the criminal disabled the security cameras and attacked Perry. I’m thinking someone’s looking for classified information.”

Sebastian frowned, trying to think of any of the students had been acting oddly. His usual suspect would be Perry, but she had been targeted.

“Guys,” Leo called, “can you break up the lovefest and get over here? Something happened with the Hydroloop.”

It turned out someone had fried the control panels, trapping them on the island.

“Wait,” Chase stepped forward, “these burn marks are from bionics.”

Shit.

If someone bionic had done this, Seb knew there would be only one suspect. The glances he was getting from the assembled mentors confirmed it.

He wasn’t sure what to say. “I didn’t do it” felt so hollow and untrustworthy.

“There’s still a rebel living among us.” Chase declared.

“How could there still be a rebel here?” Bree asked, shocked.

Leo did an exaggerated gesture in Sebastian’s direction.

“Maybe because we let Chase convince us to let the rebel stay here?”

“Leo!” Chase jumped in. “We can’t start placing blame. For now, everyone’s a suspect.”

“But shouldn’t more of the suspicion fall on the person who rebelled before? Like just a month ago?” Bree sighed.

Sebastian hated that he couldn’t argue with her logic.

——

“I didn’t do it.” he said to Chase when they were alone, Chase laying against him on the couch.

“I believe you.”

He could tell by the ease with which he said it that Chase was telling the truth, and he was filled with happiness that this time, the trust wasn’t misplaced.

“Thank you.”

“I’m just not sure the others will. We’re going on a stakeout tonight, even though they think it’s pointless when a suspect is right under our noses. I don’t know how to convince them.”

“I don’t think you can,” Seb said, resigned. “Wouldn’t you have the same reaction, in their position? The only thing that would help is catching the guy. What about I stay here, until we find him, so I always have an alibi?”

Sometimes that super intelligence came in handy. Or maybe it was those cheesy crime shows he and Chase liked to watch and make fun of.

“Actually, I was thinking the opposite. Join me on stakeout tonight. If you’re with us the whole time, there’s no way they can suspect you.”

————————

Bree and Douglas both made their displeasure with Chase bringing Sebastian along very clear.

Seb tried to give a look that conveyed “I didn’t think this was a good idea either, I promise!”

“There’s no way I’m leaving him alone with Chase,” Bree decided, “If you’re staying, go patrol the weapons room with Adam.”

Sebastian acquiesced easily. Someone to vouch for him who wasn’t his boyfriend might not be the worst thing.

Adam looking at him like he wanted to kill him while surrounded by weapons…was less fun. Sebastian didn’t see Adam’s penetrating gaze leave him for hours. He did everything but say “I don’t trust you.”

Until of course, being Adam, he did say it.

“I know,” Sebastian said, “you have every reason not to. But I promise the whole…rebellion thing isn’t going to happen again. I love your brother.” He hadn’t gotten to say that to Chase himself yet, but anything to convince Adam.

Adam didn’t have a chance to respond before Chase came over the comm-set.

“How’s the weapons room, Adam?”

“All clear in the boom-boom room.”

“What about the training area, Leo?” Chase asked, receiving no response. “Leo? LEO? Guys, he’s not responding, come quick!”

Adam shot another glare at Sebastian, as if he could have attacked Leo from right there, and the two took off running.

Leo wasn’t in the training area, and just as they were fearing the worst, the island rocked with a massive explosion.

Someone had tried to blow up the whole academy by setting the weapons on fire. If Adam hadn’t put them out, they would have.

Sebastian knew the explosion happening in the area he was patrolling didn’t deflect suspicion from him like he would have wanted.

Once Douglas was taken out, Chase declared the academy under attack. Like he’d done once before.

Sebastian didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t Leo Dooley stumbling out of the training area, laser spheres shooting from his hands.

It wasn’t even a rebellion. Just a glitch.

—————

Douglas set Leo up with a capsule so it wouldn’t happen again, and all seemed to be solved.

Chase bounced up to him the next morning, trademark “I was right” smirk on his face, and kissed him in front of everyone present.

“Thanks for believing in me.”

“Thanks for not making me regret it. I got to make Adam apologize to me today, it was awesome.”

[faofinn]

DAY 6: secrets revealed

@febuwhump

It had been a few days since Fao had been up in the middle of the night, putting in an NG tube for Steve so he’d stop being so stubborn and actually get some fluids and nutrition into him. He knew the older man didn’t talk much about his history, but Fao really did hate not knowing what was going on. Steve hadn’t told him much, just that it had happened before and there was nothing to worry about. Fao struggled to believe that - he’d been so stubborn about it, and if he was anything like the rest of them, he hid more than he should. 

The tube was still in, Steve still not over the flare enough to manage without it, but he’d get better with time. He wasn’t at work, choosing to take some last minute leave and focus on catching up on stuff in the basement. There was a lot of admin that needed doing, surprisingly, and it was a chance to get on top of it. 

Fao was down there with him, sorting through notes and making sure everything was filed properly and up to date. There was a comfortable silence settled on the pair, both just going about their business and happy not needing to fill the silence. 

"I don't remember what happened, y’know?" Steve spoke up. 

Fao lifted his head. “Don’t remember what happened when?” He asked.

"My accident. I've read the files, heard what they said, but I'm missing so much. I didn't recognise Bel for a month."

“Oh.” Fao said softly. “You don’t have to tell me anything.”

"I owe you it." He sighed heavily. "Give me a second, I'll get the file."

“Still, it’s… It’s big, I know you don’t like telling us.”

"Why do I get to hide my records? Keep all these secrets?" He shrugged. "That's not fair."

“Because you wrote your own records.” Fao said lightly. 

"Doesn't mean I can do whatever."

“Kinda does, though.”

"You deserve to know."

“If you want me to.” Fao said. “I’m glad you trust me enough to share with me.”

"Of course I trust you. I know you’re not blood, but you might as well be a son."

Fao couldn’t help the tightness in his throat at that. “Jesus, don’t start.”

"I'll go grab the file." He cleared his own throat, heading off into his office. 

Fao sipped his tea, awkwardly chewing his lip whilst he waited. He didn’t want Steve to feel like he had to share. He was entitled to his privacy.

Steve returned with his file, several times larger than the usual public one. He dropped it by Fao, apologising under his breath. "My stuff is all in there, all the hospital records."

Fao looked at the thick file, raising an eyebrow. “Would you prefer if we went through it together?”

"If you want to. I can…I can tell you what I remember, and then what they told me, if you prefer?"

“Whatever is easiest for you, honestly.”

He managed a laugh as he pulled up a chair. "Neither are."

“We really don’t have to, Steve.” 

"It's fine. We…we were on our way back, we must have already have evaced our patient because I was definitely alone. I don’t know if they just misjudged it, or got distracted, or something else happened, but we fucked our landing. Our right wing took the barrier down, we spun and smashed everything in our path, basically. There was shit everywhere, as much as we'd secured it, at that speed, it was useless. I don’t know what knocked me out, but I had several impact points, so it had a good go at taking me out."

Fao’s breath hitched. “You were RAF, right?”

"Yeah. More medical, not that I was much use at that point."

“Bit difficult at that point.” He murmured. 

Steve's focus was on something Fao couldn’t see, long in the past. "My seatbelts were locked, they couldn't get me out quick enough and I don't know what happened with the cutter. There was a delay, I ended up with second and third degree burns down my back and thigh from it. Broken ankle, fractured T2, T3, dislocated shoulder, wrist and elbow, and, uh, obviously my head."

Fao nodded slowly. “That’s… a lot.”

"I don't remember the month before it still, but at the time, there was nothing. I didn't recognise Bella, or the twins. Not that they saw me at first, I was too much of a state."

Steve rarely spoke about his family from before. Fao swallowed thickly, looking down. “I can’t even imagine.”

"Took me six months to get it back."

“How old were the… the twins?” The question felt foreign in Fao’s mouth. 

"Eighteen months. I missed so much. Bel always said I'd catch up…I never did."

“I’m sorry.”

"I missed a lot of firsts, and the ones I got," he shook his head. "The ones I got…I wouldn't wish on anyone."

Fao cleared his throat. “It must have taken you a while to get back into everything, especially surgically.”

"Another eighteen months, just to get back to where I was. I was lucky, really,  my deficits ended up being physical, like my speech and swallowing."

“Is that the only thing you still struggle with?” Fao asked, mostly curious. “The back or anything?”

"Reduced sensations at times, various other problems, the burn scars kill me at times too. It feels like they're burnt all over again, when they debride it, god. Never again."

“Yeah, that’s brutal. Really, really tough.”

"The PTSD is a bit shit too."

“Now that’s something I can understand.”

"Yeah."

“I honestly just want to help.” Fao said softly, trying to find the words. “I know it’s easy to hide things and not want to get other people involved, but I could’ve helped you out ages before if you’d just asked. I wouldn’t have asked anything, either. So if there’s anything you need, no judgement or questions other than what I need to know to be safe… I’m here.”

Steve found himself choked up, and he shook his head, taking a moment. "Thank you."

“Let’s just try not to be so damn stubborn and accept help from now on.”

"Easier said than done."

“I know.”

"The pain never really goes away, but you deal with it until you can’t. I don't usually have problems breathing and eating and all that, but when it flares, it flares. 

"Work aren't ever happy about it, why would they be? A fucking neurosurgeon that can't feel his hands because the whole arm feels like it's on fire. The tremors I get when I get so low, I just…I don't know. I'd never do anything to put 

the patient at risk, but they just care about the image."

Fao nodded, taking it all in. “It must be really hard, but you’re an amazing doctor. I can tell you care so much about your patients, you’ve taught me so much.” He said softly. “We’re lucky to have you, and if work can’t see it too then they’re idiots.”

"Thank you, Fao. It means a lot"

Fao moved to hug him. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

Steve hadn't expected that, but sighed and held him close. "Thank you, Fao."

[bumblewarden]

AWAKENING REMARKS

Warden-Commander Tabris

The Warden deserves voice lines too, so i scribbled down some quick Awakening remarks for Novhen plus a smattering of VO comments to go along with a handful of them :3

I'm still envisioning him as player character so no lines for taking him in or out of the party, but i tried to get most of the location barks

= 🌙 =

[Someone fails to pick a lock]

Need a hand?

[Entering Avvar Crypt]

You can almost smell the Deep Roads from here. VO Comment: Thinking aloud

[Entering City of Amaranthine]

I should meet the city's hahren once this Thaw Hunt's over with.

[Entering Amaranthine Market]

Let me know if you see anything you want. VO Comment: Said as an announcement to the party

[First encounter with the Children]

That was new. VO Comment: Flatly, stunned

[Second encounter with the Children]

(Sigh) S'pose I gotta write a report to Weisshaupt about those.

[On the bridge after the first tower in Drake's Fall]

Never let it be said these darkspawn didn't have a flair for the dramatic. VO Comment: Exasperated. He would much prefer if they did not

= 🌙 =

[On the bridge]

Oh, a gaping hole into the Deep Roads. That'll be fun to clean up. VO Comment: Sarcastic

[View of Kal'Hirol]

I didn't expect for one of the lost thaigs to be so near the surface. / Let's get on then. We've a tide to push back against.

[Upon finding secret passage in Kal'Hirol]

Ran through more than my fair share of secrets tunnels when I was a kid. Good times. VO Comment: Nostalgic

[Upon finding lyrium ghosts]

Lyrium ghosts. Probably won't share anything helpful to our current fight but still worth the listen.

[Inside Kal'Hirol - Main Hall]

I'm not personally a fan of meat floors, but to each their own. VO Comment: Pushing down his disgust

[Upon finding lyrium ghosts]

Lyrium ghosts. Probably won't share anything helpful to our current fight but still worth the listen.

[Nearing large lyrium container in Kal'Hirol - Trade Quarter]

Is that lyrium at a stage safe for elves to touch? VO Comment: Trying to figure out if he can take any back to the keep

[In long hallway in Kal'Hirol - Lower Reaches]

There's a fine line between building suspense and just tedious. VO Comment: Annoyed

[Near broodmother pit]

Well, it's not like I was gonna get a good night's sleep anyway.

= 🌙 =

[Entering the Wending Wood, upon seeing wrecked caravan]

Can't wait to meet whoever they pissed off. VO Comment: Sarcastic

[At camp]

This doesn't look right. Who just dumps a pile of weapons all in one corner like that? / This is a set up if I've ever seen one. Keep on your toes.

[At overlook near the camp]

The woods aren't nearly so bad once everything stops trying to kill you for ten seconds.

[At burial pit]

The work of darkspawn, looks like. We'll have to set up a pyre once we're done here.

[At the Silverite Mine, upon seeing the ballista]

Those darkspawn are posed perfectly for the ballista to take them out with that statue, and it's not even my naming day. VO Comment: Thoughtful. Last part said with a small laugh

= 🌙 =

[Entering the Blackmarsh]

Ach! The muck here is already trying to swallow my cane whole.

[Past the old sign]

(Shudders) Farkakte fucking Veil. VO Comment: Angrily, under his breath

[Nearing dragon bone head]

Beautiful skull, but where's the rest of it?

[Near a Veil tear]

I've seen thin spots in the Veil before, but this is something else.

[Near ruined house]

Do you s'pose there's anything worth looting still in there?

[First entering the Blackmarsh Undying]

Is it too much to hope that this "Mother" they've been namedropping isn't an awakened broodmother?

[On the path to the village in The Blackmarsh Undying]

Last time I was awake in the Fade I was able to shapeshift… Probably not a good idea to try that now. VO Comment: Thoughtful. Then he rethinks it and realizes it would be too dangerous to try under these circumstances

[Approaching the coffins in the first room of the Shadowy Crypt]

Why did we come here again? VO Comment: Annoyed. Knowingly walked into a trap and starting to regret it

[bluedragonbooks]

Adjacent 10 of 25

Over the last 6 weeks, Elric often strode ahead while the Wizard and I followed at a more measured pace; we usually caught up to him when he paused to murder a bush or assault a haystack.

Once Gerry joined us, it seemed to spur Elric on and vice versa; we spent the day with them racing ahead, only to find them sparring with sticks or doing push-ups or whatever a few minutes later.

At one point the Wizard had watched them thru his lenses for a while. "Whatever enchantment you used on him has left; be assured - whatever he feels for you is genuine; be gentle with him - you're his first love, am I correct?"

"Yes, I still feel guilty for bewitching him."

"He was eager enough; all you did was ease his shyness; I'm sure that had time and urgency not forced your hand the outcome would be the same. The next town is two days away; I have friend I wish to visit - a seer; We'll be stopping for at least two days; My friend is younger and will have desires I am unable to satisfy, so Elric will no doubt be invited to her room. I'll arrange for you and Gerry to share a room; a bit of privacy and the lack of other agendas should help clarify the matter."

Oh goody, looking forward to that; nothing like being expected to perform under the watchful eye of an elderly matchmaker ... Fuck.

...

Elric's blunter version was delivered as we made camp that night and got ready for dinner; he took me aside and said, "He wants you to fuck him; but he's too shy to ask; He's done you, now it's your turn to do him."

For a moment I wondered if Elric had only pretended to be asleep back at the guardhouse; but I knew that snore. Maybe Gerry had told him. "Did he actually say that?"

"No, but he looks at your dick every chance he gets; when a girl looks at me like that, I know she's wet for it. Besides, I could always tell when the blacksmiths boy had paid a visit and put it in you, you’d get this dreamy look and sigh a lot."

"You was sighing plenty the next day, and you had that big stupid grin, despite all the trouble we was in; so I'm guessing he's got a biggun and he gave it to you good." My face flushed red hot.

"Ha, thought so, I got you a good one, you're blushing like a virgin."

Dammit!

...

"Ooh, Stop, STOP - It tickles too much" Gerry giggled and squirmed.

I'd been exploring his naked body with my tongue; turns out he was insanely ticklish.

"How about here?" I lowered my mouth and sucked. The reaction was immediate and productive.

"Oh GOD ... Oh I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do it in your mouth; you surprised me ... no-one’s ever ..."

"It's ok, I don't mind; I like it; It's not like I didn't want it."

"But doesn't it taste ... yucky?"

"You mean you've never tasted your own - off your hand?"

"No"

"Wow, you really are an innocent; you want to suck mine?"

"Um, ok, I suppose, just give me warning when you ... you know."

"Probably better if I don't."

...

"You done him yet?" asked Elric at breakfast. "Didn't sound like it."

There's no point being subtle with Elric, I knew he'd just keep asking.

"Waiting for the next town. A bath and a proper bed."

"Ooh fancy; fair enough tho; you getting him some flowers and a stinky candle too? He'll probably like that."

"Piss off Elric." He laughed and punched me lightly in the arm.

...

Turns out he’s not only insanely ticklish, but insanely noisy. I got the giggles and nearly couldn’t finish.

After I finished fucking him, and we'd got our breath back he said, “do you think anyone heard?”

The walls of the seer’s house were only lath and daub; “The whole fucking street heard” said Elric from the other side of the wall.

...

Breakfast was surreal; the Seer was dreamy-eyed and sighed a lot; Elric grinned like fool, alternating between winking at me and nudging Gerry; who flushed a bright pink while staring intently at his porridge as if divining some great portent.

Instead of the usual thin gruel, the table was graced with a hearty porridge, bread and oil to dip it in, slices of cheese, fruit, and even a smoked fish. The Wizard appeared inordinately pleased with himself.

I glared at him and mentally dared him to say anything.

“A hearty breakfast for the road ahead; just what growing lads need after a good nights sleep.”

I almost stabbed him with my spoon.

...

So far Elric's "Quest" had "accomplished" exactly three kills in seven weeks.

An enchanted boar so fixated on it' task the poor beast had worn a path around it's Lords forest;

An aging Wyvern that took a lamb and probably would have died of exertion or choked to death on lamb’s wool if Elric hadn't put it out of its misery; and

A small kitten sized beasty I couldn't identify, driven mad with lust for Elric's boot when we stopped for lunch.

"When will we get to the good stuff" whined Elric to the Wizard, while wiping green beasty goo off his sword and onto a patch of grass.

"Patience young Champion, we have 4 months yet to get to the Western Sea; as long as we get there before the Winter Solstice, there's plenty of time for adventures yet."

I groaned inwardly. We'd set out at Summer Solstice, and we wouldn't get there until the Winter Solstice? Which meant we likely wouldn't get home until the next Summer Solstice?

This damn Quest better be worth it or I'd be boiling the old bird down for his tallow. I wonder what price genuine Wizard Tallow fetched on the Apothecary market.

Not that you'd probably get much out of him; he was old and stringy and didn't seem to have much fat on him; and he was ancient; I mean he must have been at least 50 years old.

Have I mentioned his knees? Most villages are a days travel apart for a merchant with 2 horses and a well-stocked wagon.

Why? Because Merchants don't want to be camping on the side of a road overnight with a well-stocked wagon; you have to pay a night-guard.

Most people can keep up with a well-stocked wagon and 2 horses even on foot; especially if you've had 7 weeks to get used to it.

Elderly Wizards with dodgy knees apparently take 2 days to cover the same distance; well, 2 6-hour days if you don't mind starting late and don't include stopping for a leisurely lunch in the heat of the day.

Mind you, it meant we arrived early enough on the second day to have our pick of lodgings, and it gave me a chance to barter and reprovision.

About every third village seemed to be a trading hub, which usually meant it had a Wizards Guild, which meant we could get a proper bed and usually stayed an extra night.

Neither Gerry nor I minded that; better than fucking on cold hard ground.

Gerry had got over his initial boisterousness, which meant we could take turns enjoying each other without making a laughingstock of ourselves.

Tho, he still tended to blush madly if I'd fucked him the night before, and Elric even glanced at him at breakfast.