#but somehow its even worse in comic canon??? HOW?!

[xysidhequeen]

The King And His Red Knight    

Part 14

Parts 1-7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

Warning: Jason’s damn MOUTH

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"So." Dick stared at the wall of his clean apartment from the couch they had migrated to. 

Danny had been rather serious about his 'The Undead 101' class and Jason wondered if Sam had forced him to make it after his, quite frankly, fucking abysmal attempts at winging it with Jason.

Sam had most certainly made the slide show presentation. Danny would have used far more color, and questionable fonts, had he been given artistic liberty. 

"Ghosts. Are real." Dick said slowly, eyes almost glazed as he stared at the wall. 

He was taking it better than Jason thought he would. He was also probably waiting to be alone until he had a full on meltdown. Bruce had taught them that. Never show anyone your emotions, that's the Bat way.

"Yes. We covered that on the first slide." Danny nodded and pressed a button on the remote, the image on the TV changing to the first slide.

'So You Or A Loved One Has Died And Either You Or They Didn’t Have The Grace To Stay Down, And Now It's Everyone's Problem.' Was the title. Under it was a smaller title saying, 'By Now You've Probably Figured Out Ghosts Are Real. If You Haven't Please See A Doctor Because You May Have Brain Damage That Is Affecting Your Critical Thinking.' When Jason first saw it he'd had to bite his fist to stop from laughing. 

Leave it to Sam to make a slide show that was both informative and insulting. He was definitely taking notes. 

"And there is a whole parallel universe connected to ours called the Infinite Realms, where every known and unknown afterlife resides plus a whole bunch of other things. And if our world or that one is destroyed everything basically implodes?" Dick continued despite his obvious shock, the deeply ingrained training to get all the facts, and triple check them, showing through. 

"Yes, correct." Danny flipped the slide show to a collage of pictures taken in the Infinite Realms. 

There were pictures of a younger Danny, all scrawny, gangly limbs, a blindingly bright smile and eyes full of hope and happiness. There were even more pictures taken in the past two an a half years. Some of just Jason, but majority pictures of Jason and Danny, with a healthy amount of the entire gang.

Jason could see a picture of him and Danny laughing on top of Frostbites shoulders in the Far Frozen. Jason and Dani riding Fright Knight's steed through Hell while a pack of demons chased them. Sam, Tucker, Danny and Jason on a picnic in the Summer Lands. Jazz smacking Danny when he tried to drink mead in Valhalla while Jason was in the background comparing swords with the valkyries. Sam chatting with Persephone and Pandora while Hades played a board game with Danny, Jason and Tucker while Cujo and Cerberus played tug of war.

It showed off a lot of the different parts of the Infinite Realms, but mostly it showed their spook over the years. Growing closer, growing up. Jason had an inkling that Sam might have made this slide show specifically for the people from Jason's old life. 

Whether it was to rub the fact that Jason had been happy, really truly happy, away from them in their faces. Or to reassure them, Jason wasn't sure. He supposed Sam left it up to the person to decide how they'd take it. 

"Jason," Dick murmured the word softly as he looked at the pictures, pain and regret so clear in his eyes Jason didn't even need to feel the emotions he was radiating to see it. 

Jason shifted uncomfortably in his seat and Danny pressed into his side, comforting cold radiating from him. Jason had the urge to cook something. Bake a cake, or cookies. Anything other than deal with the pain he felt from Dick, knowing he was the cause of it.

Jason didn't regret staying away. Didn't regret a single day of the past two and half years. He knew if he hadn't taken the time, if he had come back sooner, it would've ended in disaster. Death, blood, screams and so so much regret.

But he did regret the pain Dick went through, was still going through now. Sometimes, even the best choice had consequences. You just had to make the best one you could, and hope you survived the aftermath.

Dick hadn't been the best brother. Fuck he hadn't been a brother at all at first. But that didn't mean he deserved to be hurt. Jason understood now what it felt like to be replaced by Bruce as soon as you were gone. How easy it was to resent the new kid, rather than the real culprit. 

He got why Dick hadn't been present or really accepted him at first. But Dick had tried, and was still trying. And that meant something. It meant a lot.

"You look so... happy Jay," Dick finally said, still not looking at Jason but at the pictures. Eyes greedily taking in every one of them, as if he could imprint them in his mind. As if by burning them into his memories he could make up for the years he'd lost.

"I was, I am." Jason forced the words out past the lump in his throat. 

He didn't tell Dick that the past two and half years were some of the best of his entire life. That the only memories that trumped them was his first day as Robin, and the first time he saved someone. 

But every other favorite memory? It was in the Infinite Realms, surrounded by a family of chaotic odds and ends that were more than a little bizarre, and almost entirely dead, but so loving. So accepting and open and honest about how they felt that Jason had struggled to even accept they were all real. 

"I... I wish I'd gotten to see you grow up." Dick finally tore his eyes off the pictures to look at Jason. It wasn't the pain, or the regret that robbed him of air, it was the clear and all consuming love he could see in Dick's eyes. 

That had been something Jason had hoped for when he first met Dick. Something he'd craved when Dick had disregarded him. Something he'd only just gotten to experience before the Joker and his crowbar ripped it away from him. And seeing it now made Jason feel like he was 15 years old again, finally getting his older brother, finally being acknowledged, seen and loved by his idol. 

"We have more pictures! And videos too!" Danny chimed in, breaking the moment as he whipped out a phone. Jason felt a sense of foreboding he'd only ever gotten when Alfred pulled out his photo albums to show off. 

"I took a lot and of course Jazz wanted to document every moment she could, so she has even more. And Tucker likes to sneak in cameras for blackmail material." Danny chattered happily as he scrolled through his phone, giving Dick a chance to wipe the tears off of face and for Jason to clear his throat. 

"Jazz is your older sister, right?" Dick asked Danny, who paused and pulled up a picture of a grinning Danny and Jazz.

"Yup! She's two years older than me." Danny explained as Dick took in the picture and looked at the still displayed collage of images on the TV, placing her. 

Jason might not have seen Dick for three years but he knew that small glimmer of interest in his eyes. Knowing Dick's relationship history he shouldn't have been surprised that seeing a tall, strong, red headed woman caught Dick's attention. 

Jason had the very unique experience of suddenly wanting to tease his older brother. And simultaneously point a gun at him and threaten great bodily harm if Dick so much as looked in Jazz's direction. 

In his preferred manner of handling any instance of confused emotions. Jason chose to ignore it entirely and shoved it in a box he kicked into a closet in his mind. 

Shut up Jazz. He wasn't bottling his emotions up instead of processing them. He was prioritizing. There was a fucking difference. 

"Ah hah!" Danny proudly proclaimed as he turned his phone to the side and presented Dick with a black screen, a play button on it letting them know it was a video. 

"Danny I swear to Fright Knight if that's a video of me from the first few months we're going to find out how many bullet holes you can heal before you die again," Jason growled. 

Danny blinked large wintery blue eyes at him for a moment before a Cheshire grin spread across his lips. 

"Gotta hit me first birdy," Danny taunted, utterly unafraid of the green tinted glare Jason was leveling on him. 

Dick, well used to handling bickering teens and young adults thanks to his time with the Titans, ignored the banter and pressed the screen of the phone curiously. Almost immediately Jason could hear the muffled giggles of Danny as the phone camera panned around, showing off random shots of the castle interior.

"You live in a castle?" Dick asked, voice both pouty and amazed.

"Currently no, we live i-" Danny started but trailed off when Jason shook his head. He didn't want Dick to know where they lived just yet, didn't want him leading Bruce right to them. Purposefully or accidentally. 

"Somewhere. But yeah, that's uh my castle in the Zone. Its. A ghost thing?" Danny finished weakly, Dick tore his eyes from the screen long enough to pierce both boys with a suspicious look but didn't press. Jason would be checking them over for trackers after they left, however. 

"Oh, look at this!" Danny's voice came over the phone, a hissed whisper as he phased himself and the phone through a wall into what had been Jason's.... fifth? Room? Maybe sixth, he wasn't sure. He went through so many in the early days. 

The camera got a good shot of Jason cursing, one leg firmly stuck in his bed, his other foot half in the floor. Jason groaned and hid his face in his hands, not able to escape the sounds of rising shouts on the phone, nor the sound of wood breaking and fabric ripping. He'd been so frustrated, and overwhelmed at the more intense emotions, that he'd destroyed the bed until only splinters remained. He could hear both video Danny and real Danny laughing at it.

"Ah, that was what. Your tenth bed that month, Jason?" Danny asked as on the video Jason discovered be was being recorded and turned all his frustrated rage on a cackling Danny. 

"Twelfth. The tenth got destroyed after a nightmare. It was before Nocturn more or less moved in because Clockwork got so sick of us asking for Time Outs to nap and strong-armed him into babysitting duty." Jason responded through his fingers. 

"Mmm right. Nocturn almost hung us both up by our ankles when we kept refusing to sleep and hid in the dungeons for a week to avoid him." Danny snapped his fingers as he remembered. 

"Wait. What happened to number eleven?" Danny asked, Dick was still quiet. Suspiciously so.

"Head got stuck. I panicked. You came in when you heard me screaming and also fucking panicked because you weren't sure I'd be able to breathe and tore the bed in half." Jason explained with a sigh as he finally removed his head from his hands. 

"....What happened to beds one to nine?" Dick asked softly. 

When Jason looked at his brother his tan skin had taken a lighter hue, understanding now in his eyes. Danny had obviously meant the video to be  a fun showcase of Jason fumbling through his new powers. 

It wasn't anything concerning to them. Or even an outstanding display of powers. Intangibility and superhuman strength were so normal for ghosts it was pedestrian. But for Dick, who had only ever known Jason as human. Breakable, killable, weak human, it was startling to see exactly how much he had changed. 

To see in a simple video that Jason and Danny saw as funny, or embarrassing, and see it put so obviously how under prepared and equipped he, or anyone of Jason's human family, would've been to handle it. 

The only ones in Dick's life who might have been able to help Jason out, safely, without risking serious harm to themselves, would've been one of the supes. Maybe Wonder Woman or Martian Manhunter could've helped. But it wouldn't have changed the fact that once he came back from the dead, Jason wouldn’t have been able to come home.

"Mmmm, various different things. Intangibility is an ability all ghosts have. Same with empathy, pathokinesis, and flight. But it's by far one of the hardest to get under control for a new ghost or halfa. So Jason got stuck in furniture a lot, and because ghosts feel emotions far more strongly than humans, he tended to get frustrated and destroy whatever he was trapped in." Danny shrugged, scrolling through countless videos and pictures of the early days. 

Most of them showing Jason stuck in a variety of different ways, some simple, some so embarrassing Jason was tempted to take the thrice damned phone and crush it in his fucking hands. For what little good it would do. He knew Danny had backups on backups. He was a younger sibling, and knew the worth of good blackmail.

It would make him feel better at least, and Jazz was always saying he should embrace self care. Well self care currently felt a lot like taking Danny's fucking phone and stomping it into smithereens and lighting the remains on fire. 

"You break this phone Jaybird and you have to buy me a new one, and get me a milkshake." Danny didn't even look up from his phone to issue the warning, feeling it in the emotions Jason was letting out.

"Then delete those damn pictures, asswipe." Jason growled but his hand stopped inching towards Danny's phone. 

He did not want to walk into any shop that sold milkshakes and give them the abomination that was Danny's order. He'd need to change his name, find a good plastic surgeon and make a new life somewhere far away. Like Mars. 

"You delete the pictures and videos you have of me then, Jay." Danny gave him a devious smirk, his fangs just peeking out to press into his bottom lip. 

Jason's hand almost unconsciously went to protect his phone, and the thousands of blackmail pictures and videos he had saved on it. 

And if some pictures and videos were in there not for blackmail, but because he caught Danny sleeping in random places, curled up like a cat and the very sight of it always set Jason's core to purring, waves of warmth flooding him? Or videos of Danny when he was in his 'King Phantom' role, and it never failed to fill Jason's veins with fire and electricity? 

Well. No one had to know. And if they got ahold of his phone, then they'd lose fingers and hands before he let them see it. 

"Over my undead ass," Jason huffed, Danny chuckling and shaking his phone almost tauntingly at Jason.

"Then no deal, oh dear bird of mine." Danny cooed and Jason purposefully ignored the small thrill the words sent through his core and currently beating heart. Not beating for much longer if Danny insisted on sneaking careless endearments into his sentences.

Dick's head was swinging around, eyes wide and filled with simmering mischief as he watched them banter like a spectator at a tennis match. 

"I know where you sleep douchecanoe." Jason threatened.

"Giving me more incentive to not sleep? Jazz is going to be very upset with you, Jaydove." Danny taunted, lips stretching further to reveal more of his razor sharp fangs, eyes sparkling with mirth. 

There was a heating tension in the air that always preceded him and Danny getting into a fight thinly disguised as 'training' but was little more than them working off whatever friction and chained emotions they were dealing with. It was easier to fight than to admit to whatever it was that had been growing between them.

"Snitches get stitches, Casper. If Jazz is going to be mad, might as well make it a damn good reason." Jason's right hand dropped to his gun, Elizabeth, suggestively. 

Dick, channeling whatever self preservation instincts he had left, which as a vigilante were predictably few, slid from his position on the couch between the two halfas with all the graceful fluidity of an acrobat and took a seat on his now cleared chair. It had been the origin point of Mt. Doom, finally given freedom and the chance to see sunlight again in who knew how many years now that all the clothes weighing it down were placed in sensible locations. Like Dick's motherfucking closet.

"Uh. If you two are going to fight, please don't do it in my apartment. It's finally clean." Dick entreated, but he was smiling, a real, almost happy smile, and his eyes had light in them. Jason would destroy and clean a thousand apartments if he could keep that look on his brother's face.

"Yeah we know dumbass, we cleaned it." Jason rolled his eyes, shoulder relaxing slightly and legs unbending from where they'd been prepared to spring. 

He kept his hand on his gun though. Danny fought dirty. Really dirty, in a way that made Jason almost believe he'd been raised in Crime Alley where kids learned fast the only thing that mattered was getting out alive. Danny would, and had, spring a surprise attack on Jason the second his guard lowered.

"Wait. You two...?" Dick trailed off, looking around with wide eyes as he finally realized why his apartment was clean. 

In the whole emotional affair of realizing Jason was alive, sort of, and not a grief created hallucination, and then the slide show, it had never come up that Jason and Danny had deep cleaned Dick's apartment with the efficiency and skill of a professional team of criminal cleaners. 

"Yeah we did. Dude, Nightwing, Dick, my man, my friend, my once upon a time idol, my brother in spandex," Danny turned his attention to Dick, leaning forward with an earnestness on his face that Dick wasn't experienced enough in Danny's brand of dramatics to be wary of yet, "are you secretly a supervillain attempting to conquer the world with sentient mold?" Danny asked with all the blunt honesty of a small child approaching a stranger in a grocery store to ask them why their cart was filled with only ice cream. 

"I-what?!" Dick choked out, thrown off by both the question and the manner in which Danny asked it. Jason coughed to disguise a laugh, feeling the amusement rolling off Danny in waves. 

"It's okay if you are, we'll accept you no matter what you choose to be. But we really might want to workshop your methods. Mold just isn't a good look, y'know? I've come to realize after several harrowing and near death experiences in the past few hours that it might be horrifyingly effective, but do you really want to be known as Mold Man?" Danny kept his sincere expression and tone, somehow shifting subtly towards the realm of concerned close friend staging an intervention. 

"What is happening?!" Dick muttered, looking at Jason with a face that screamed 'help me'. 

"The ghost of uncleaned apartments past is coming back to haunt you." Jason said matter of factly, losing the battle to keep his laughter inside when Dick's face transformed into one of the deepest betrayal. 

Danny was holding onto his act with his fingernails, but Jason could feel the thick amusement clouding the air, feeding his own raucous laughter as he struggled to get in a breath, eventually failing at that and delving into silent laughter. 

"But if you're really set on using mold as your method of world domination, I suppose we can help you. We can work something out in the lab instead of you using your living room as a makeshift illegal lab. It just isn't safe for you to keep your experiments so close to your food. Trust me, you do not want animated food attacking you first thing in the morning." Danny continued speaking, voice rising to be heard over Jason, who had collapsed half off the couch, head buried in the cushions to try to contain himself. 

"Am I still dreaming? This has to be a dream, right?" Dick was asking the air now, and Jason tried to raise his head, only to catch Danny's eyes and fall back into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. 

"All you need is one feral hotdog biting you when you're reaching for milk and you'll begin to rethink your entire life, Dick. It's just not a good idea to experiment where you sleep or eat. So if Mold Man is just who you have to be, let's make sure you're the most successful mold based supervillain around and don't end up suffocated in the night by vengeful experiments. I wou-" Danny's words cut off suddenly at the same time as Jason shot to his feet, all traces of mirth gone. 

Twin exhales were heard, the air in front of them fogging as cold slipped from their cores out of their mouths.

"Motherfucking Gotham, and its Ancient's damned tissue paper thin veil between the fucking worlds. Not even one day. One day!" Danny started ranting as he shoved himself off the couch.

Annoyance poured off of him like freezing rain as he marched towards the windows, eyes scanning the skyline for whatever ghost had made the grave mistake of leaving the Zone to invade Gotham or Blüdhaven. 

"I swear if it's fucking Skulker chasing after us because he can't go three days without seeing you Jason, I'm going to throw his suit into a fucking wood chipper!" Danny grumbled as he threw his hands into the air. 

Jason ignored the warm thrill of hearing Danny get worked up. It was never more clear than when Danny was upset how much of an impact Jason had on him. When he was mad Danny would put even Jason to shame with his cursing, a habit he'd very specifically picked up only after he had met Jason. 

Jazz had been less than impressed.

"You think it's one of your rogues?" Jason asked, ignoring Dick who had reacted as any hero would to seeing them suddenly shift gears. He was alert and watching, waiting for more information and pulling a spare escrima stick from inside the chair he was on. 

"It better fucking be. If it's a ghost I don't know they're going to have a bad fucking afterlife coming into territory I've already claimed." Danny growled, eyes a burning, toxic green. 

Jason could feel the annoyance turning into possessive anger. He'd had it explained to him before, what a haunt was, what it meant to a ghost. Intruding on another ghost's haunt was not only disrespectful, it was dangerous. A ghost would react viciously to trespassers, preferring to shoot first, and never ask questions later. You stepped into another ghost's haunt, you were quite clearly asking for a fight. 

"Need me to-?" Jason started, feeling his own eyes bleed to bright green. 

He could feel his own anger at the thought of another ghost he didn't know daring to tread in his Gotham. It was slowly seeping through his blood, his fire core turning the anger to flames that raged in his chest. 

"No. I'll handle it. If it's someone I know I'll send em back to the Mausoleum to chill for a bit. If it's an Observant I'll handle whatever new bullshit they want to demand I deal with right this very second," Dannt shook his head, lips twisting into a feral smile that was all teeth, "and if I don't know them, then they're going to fucking wish they never met me, and be grateful for the reprieve soup time gives them." Danny finished, pulling a thermos, he never had managed to get a better design, out of thin air. 

"Are you sure?" Jason asked, hand snaking out to grab onto Danny's wrist, almost entirely circling it. 

There was a not insignificant part of him that rebelled and thrashed at the very thought of Danny going out to fight an unknown potential enemy alone. 

Jason wasn't sure if it was just him, being worried for Danny, his friend. Or if it was the Red Knight worrying for his King.

Jason wasn't sure it mattered. 

He just knew he didn't feel comfortable with Danny fighting alone. No matter how many times he'd seen Danny in a fight, or how many times Danny had flipped him onto his ass or decisively ended one of their fights. 

Danny was strong, Jason knew that. But it didn't mean he was invulnerable. 

"It's fine, Jaybird. Stay with your brother, talk. I'll handle this and be back before you even notice. Promise." Danny tamped down on his anger, his smile shifting from something sharp to something soft and warm as he pushed a wave of comforting emotions at Jason.

Safe/Strong/Capable/ICanHandleThis/I'llBeFine/Protect/Safe 

Jason still wasn't comfortable with the thought of letting Danny go alone but he let out a long breath as Danny pressed closer to him, Jason's hand slipping down slightly to tangle their fingers together for a moment as Danny squeezed his hand tight. 

"You've got thirty minutes before I come after your ass. If I have to find you I'm not going to discriminate with who I shoot at." Jason warned, finally smiling when Danny huffed out a light laugh. 

"Oh no, the big scary Red Hood is going to shoot me if I'm late. I'm quaking in my converse." Danny muttered, soft enough for Dick to not hear unless he had suddenly acquired superhuman senses. 

Based on the way he'd slept through them cleaning his entire apartment, Jason highly doubted that. 

"Damn right your should be afraid. Now go before whoever it is terrorizes the not so innocent citizens of Gotham," Jason pulled his hand away, ignoring how his skin somehow felt colder without Danny's icy touch. 

"Aye aye captain," Danny saluted, stepping back until his back was flush with the window, looking at Dick.

"I'll be back in a bit, got a ghost problem to handle. Don't die. Dont kill each other. Tootles." Danny gave a half feral smile at a confused Dick before he fell backward, through the window and wall, and vanished. 

"Wha-How did he? Where did he? What the fuck?!" Dick scrambled up from his chair, rushing to the window as Jason smoothly stepped aside. 

Dick pressed his hands and face against the glass, trying to find Danny, who had long since departed. Jason had seen the flash of white light even if Danny had gone invisible, and knew the speeds Danny could hit. 

"Ghost shit." Jason shrugged, walking back to the couch, rubbing his hand where he could feel the phantom sensation of calloused, cold fingers against his own. 

His core was a relentless pulse in his chest that ached like a sore muscle the longer Danny was gone, was potentially in danger. 

"Did he take a thermos with him? I saw a thermos before he Leroy Jenkins himself out of my window," Dick demanded, opening said window to poke his head out and look around.  

"That was a thermos, yes." Jason nodded as Dick, with a slight pout, closed the window, giving it one last suspicious glare, as if the window itself was the reason behind Danny's sudden supernatural departure, and turned back towards Jason.

There was a moment where Dick was clearly debating with himself about where to sit. Next to Jason, now that the threat of being in the middle of a brawl was gone, or in the chair? Get close to his brother, or give him space? 

Ultimately, and unsurprisingly to Jason who knew exactly how clingy Dick could be once he opened his heart to someone, Dick chose the couch. Jason was glad he did, even if he'd never openly admit it to his brother.

He'd missed Dick, the way he'd miss a limb. And feeling his brother next to him, a warm, strong presence that reminded him of late nights spent on roof tops, gorging themselves on fast food Alfred would have a conniption over. Of dark alleys filled with criminals and a brother at his back ready to cover his blind spots. Of a strong arm wrapping around too small shoulders and pulling him in close when they'd seen things no child should ever have to see, but a Robin had to see. Had to stop. 

"So." Dick fiddled with his escrima stick, flipping and spinning it in a display of nervousness Jason knew he was only comfortable showing because they were alone.

"You and Danny, how long have you two been together?" Dick asked, tilting his head slightly so Jason could see the smirk on his face and the teasing light in his eyes. 

"Well. Two and a half years, since he's the one that dragged me from my coffin." Jason was purposefully misunderstanding the question, and responding with faked innocence that would never fool Dick 'I Invented The Innocent Act' Grayson. 

"Little Wing, I might not have been the best brother when you were around. And it might have been three years since we've seen each other, but a blind, deaf and comatose man would notice the romantic tension between you two." Dick grabbed his escrima stick from the air to point it threateningly at Jason, inches from his nose. 

"Try not to turn that on around Danny." Jason, in his humble opinion, smoothly transitioned away from the topic of his and Danny's relationship status. Or lack thereof. 

"Why?" Dick asked, distracted by the blunt command.

"He has two reactions to open electricity. He's either hypnotized like a cat with a laser pointer or terrified and there's never a guarantee which it will be." Jason batted the escrima stick away from his face and held up a hand, a small flame appearing on his pointer finger. 

Dick sucked in a harsh breath as his eyes widened. This was the first open display of supernatural ability Jason had shown around Dick. 

"For me, I'm closer to being a pyromaniac. I have a fire core, it comes with the territory. But things like," Jason grimaced, feeling his eyes shift to green, "clowns and crowbars will set me off. Electricity does the same for Danny." Jason shrugged as the fire danced across his finger tips for a moment before vanishing.

Dick looked from his hand to his face, eyes narrowing slightly as that detective brain worked to put together the clues Jason had given him. Finally his eyes widened, mouth falling slightly open and sapphire eyes filled with a deep sadness as he understood what Jason had not said. 

Danny died by electricity. 

Jason could see other details coming together in Dick's head. The lichtenberg scars on Danny's hand, wrist and neck. The scars that Dick didn't know traveled up Danny's arm, curled over his shoulder, back and chest before stopping at his heart. But Jason knew, had seen them so many times now he hardly noticed them. But Dick was putting together the cause, adding it undoubtedly to the file in his head he was compiling for Danny.

"Anything else?" Dick asked as he looked down at his escrima stick. 

His face was set in sadness, regarding a weapon he used to protect people and seeing something capable of causing harm to someone who didn't deserve it. Of causing fear, which perhaps hurt worse. Nightwing was a symbol of hope, not fear. 

"No. Nothing you'll come across organically, anyway. Just don't ask about his parents." Jason sighed, not able to keep the anger entirely out of his voice at the mere thought of the Fentons. 

If he saw them even his King's decree wouldn't stop him from putting so many bullets in them even God wouldn't recognize them. Any God. 

"Obviously. No one becomes a hero because they have good parents. Hero teams are essentially clubs for overpowered traumatized kids." Dick joked, trying to inject levity into a suddenly too somber atmosphere. 

"Like group therapy, but with weapons." Jason indulged him, gratified to see Dick's smile become more stable. 

"Speaking of parents," Jason started, eyes glued to Dick's face, which had gone unreadable in a moment. 

"Don't tell Bruce I'm back." Jason didn't phrase it as a request, it was an order. 

Dick stared at him for a long moment, searching his face. 

"Do you know how I found out you died, Jason?" Dick asked, voice serious. 

Jason took in a deep, steadying breath. This was the part he'd never spent much time thinking about. The direct aftermath of his death, the effect it had had.

"I was halfway across the universe at the time. When I came back you were, you were gone." Dick's voice was choking up but he pushed on, "You were buried by the time I was back. I didn't even know. Bruce never called. He didn't know I was on a mission, but he never called, or left a message. Hell he didn't even send me an email. He's better at telling his board members there's been a drop in stock prices than he was at telling me my own brother died." Dick's head dropped, hands finding their way into his hair again as his escrima stick fell to the ground, rolling under the couch as if hiding from the pure agony and anger in Dick's voice.

"I found out from a kid in the Titans, Danny. Ironic, huh?" Dick barked out a bitter laugh void of any real humor, the sound a knife to Jason's core.

He hadn't known. Hadn't even considered the idea that Bruce wouldn't even tell Dick he'd died. How could he? How could he even imagine that? He knew Bruce was... not the best father. But to go so far as to not even tell Dick that he had died? What could excuse that? What reason could there have ever been that would even begin to justify that?

"So Jay, I'm the last person you need to ask that. Fuck, you don't even need to ask. I never planned to tell Bruce you're back. Hell, keep him in the dark for weeks, months, years. I won't blame you, and I'll keep your secret." Dick raised his head just enough for Jason to see his eyes, the tears and pain in them. The anger, directed not at him but at Bruce. The man they had both seen as a father, who had done his best to make himself unworthy of the title.

Funny thing, that. Even in the depths of Dick's eyes, beneath the hurt and the anger, Jason could still see the stubborn love that sat entrenched in Dick. The same stubborn love Jason knew he harbored in his own heart. Love for Bruce, despite all he'd done. 

They both still loved Bruce, for all his failings. But it didn't mean they had to be nice to him. Didn't mean he didn't deserve a taste of his own medicine. 

Jason stared at Dick for a beat before he sighed as he opened his arms. It was a truly great inconvenience for him but he could handle being turned once more into the ghostly equivalent of an emotional support teddy bear. Dick didn't hesitate to fling himself at Jason, his hands finally leaving his hair to grip onto the leather jacket Jason wore.

"You got so big," Dick muttered, almost petulantly, into Jason's shoulder. 

"I drank a lot of milk." Jason deadpanned, earning a watery snort from Dick.

"How does any of this even work? How did dying give you the biggest growth spurt on this planet?" Dick asked, voice warbling slightly. 

Jason blindly fumbled for the remote until his hands finally smacked into the plastic. Pressing a few buttons he got the slideshow still on the TV to the screen that said 'Ectoplasm, Tasty Treat Or Radioactive Sludge? (It's vegan!)'.

"Ghost goo." Jason grunted out, bouncing Dick's head with his shoulder until his older brother reluctantly turned his face so he could see the TV again. Jason tried to not focus on Dick's red, swollen eyes. He couldn't take much more guilt.

"That can't be healthy." Dick scrunched his nose in distaste at the informative slide, listing all the health benefits of ectoplasm for ghosts. And why it was necessary for any ghost, or growing halfa, to consume it. 

It also had warnings littered all over it of the dangers of a normal, non-liminal, human coming into contact or prolonged exposure with it. The next slide had recipes for using it in food, and how to prevent said food from becoming sentient. Jason had wondered why Sam wanted copies of his cookbook he was writing. 

If Dick spent enough time around Jason and Danny, eventually he'd become liminal too. Jason didn't radiate as much ectoplasm as Danny did, but it was still enough to gradually contaminate any living being around him over the years. If Dick was around him and Danny. And if Danny got his ghost portal up and running soon, Dick would start seeing the effects in months. 

There was a warning about that on the slide too. 'Warning: Staying in close contact with ghosts or halfas (yes, you Danny, you radioactive asshole) will gradually give you ghost cooties, also known as ecto-contamination. See slide 23, subsection C for details of the effects of ecto-contamimation and becoming liminal.' Dick didn't seem to care, though Jason knew he had read the line. 

Jason...couldn't find it in himself to be upset by that. There were no known bad side effects to being liminal. Besides perhaps becoming more Obsessive over certain things, and the United States government declaring you a non-sentient entity. But liminals were stronger, faster, healed faster, aged slower, had better senses. Being liminal, to whatever degree, would mean Dick would be safer. 

And guaranteed to come back as a ghost when he died.

"Tastes good, if a bit spicy and citrusy." Jason hummed as he pulled put his own, normal thermos, and opened it to display the glowing green sludge inside of it. 

Dick finally pulled away from Jason in order to distance himself from the pure ectoplasm.

"Gross. That really can't be safe-Jason! Don't drink it!" Dick squawked as Jason put the thermos to his lips and took a swig. A small rush of energy filled him as the pure ectoplasm rushed through his body. 

"It's fine, Dickhead. It's like coffee, but healthy." Jason batted away Dick's scrambling hands as he capped the thermos. 

"I'm going to be sick. That is just nasty." Dick clamped a hand over his mouth, cheeks puffed out dramatically. Jason stared at him for a long moment before looking pointedly around his apartment.

"So ghost slime is too much, but an army of sentient mold on top of rotting food you can handle?" Jason finally asked. Dick removed his hand and blew the air out of his cheeks in a raspberry, glaring playfully at Jason.

"I didn't try to eat the obviously poisonous stuff found in my apartment. You just slurped down that radioactive goo like it was a smoothie!" Dick defended himself.

"I could take it like a shot if that makes you feel any better."

'It most definitely would not make me feel better."

"Then I can't fucking help you."

"Aren't you too young to drink anyway?"

"Rich coming from you, I remember the parties in Titans Tower," Jason was grinning as he and Dick fell into a familiar banter. 

It was similar to how it was with Danny, but different. There was far less supercharged air between him and Dick. Instead of unsaid words and confessions there was a tentative, hopeful bond being rebuilt word by word, second by second. They had barely been brothers before, but now they had a chance to really be that. They knew what it was like to lose each other, and could appreciate the depth of the feelings they'd ignored before. 

Jason had hardly dared hope Dick would even care that he was back. But he was finally accepting that Dick hadn't only missed him, he still wanted him in his life. Even if Robin had been replaced, maybe Jason hadn't been.

Speaking of.

"So. We gonna talk about the traffic light colored elephant in the room?" Jason leaned back into the couch, arms spreading over the top. 

He still wasn't sure how he felt about his little replacement. He'd hated him. At first. But it was after he'd torn a several mile wide trench through a realm that he realized his anger wasn't at the young kid dressed in spandex and a neon yellow cape that was no better than a target for criminals to point their guns at. He was, and always had been, mad at Bruce.

He should've been the last child soldier picked up from the depths of Gotham and shoved into pixie boots. Should've been the last kid asked to risk his life for the Mission. The last casualty of Bruce's never ending war against the darkness that threaded through Gotham like a poisonous spider web. 

Now the only thing he felt for the latest Robin model was a deep, almost all consuming need to protect. To whisk the kid away from a life of broken bones, bullet wounds and an early grave. To give him a life, a family, where he was loved, and protected and safe. Because Dick was right, no kid from a normal home would willingly get into crime fighting. 

Dick didn't know that, even if he had copped the fact Jason was not so subtly pumping him for info. Tucker had done a damned good job of keeping track of the youngest Robin, but none of them knew his identity. 

Bruce had no recent child acquisitions, so the kid still had a living family. Not a good one, if he was able to get out every night to risk his life playing Russian Roulette with Rogues and the worst humanity had to offer. Or vanish for weeks or months with the Titans.

And what did that say about Bruce? That it was clear to Jason, who didn't even know this kid, that something was obviously wrong with his home life. That Bruce was just... letting it happen. Ignoring it as best Jason could tell. 

"We-I didn't mean t-" Dick started, guessing that Jason was upset. 

Not incorrect, but drawing the wrong conclusion as a result of not having enough information. Had this been right after the discovery, Dick would've been right.

"I'm not mad at him, Dickiebird. Put down your big brother claws, I ain't gonna hurt the little bird." Jason waved off Dick's obvious concern and he watched his older brother deflate visibly, relief thick in the air. 

"I wanna know what my little brother is like." Jason tilted his head slightly and Dick brightened before grimacing. There was something there for sure. 

"Well, Bruce hasn't adopted him-" Dick started and Jason snorted.

"Like that matters. Any kid in those fucking colors is our brother, end of story." Jason said it decisively, brooking no argument. Guilt flashed across Dick eyes for a moment as he looked away.

"Yeah. Yeah you're right. He's one of us," Dick sighed, leaning forward, "he's with the Titans right now. They love him, especially Conner and Cassie." Dick tilted his head, messy hair swinging wildly as he smiled softly.

"He's smart. Smarter than either of us ever were. Probably as smart as Bruce, cuter, though. You know he found out our secret identities when he was nine? He was the little kid with the camera we'd see around." Dick settled into talking about the newest Robin with ease, pride shining through in his words and eyes. 

Jason narrowed his eyes, brows furrowing as he tried to place the kid. Dick had told him about a little boy with a camera he'd see on patrol now and again. They could never prove he was there most nights, but they always suspected. Whenever they'd try to confront him, he'd vanish, so they just tried to make the shots he got good ones, if they couldn't keep him away.

"He's a good kid. Gets lost in his head a lot. And definitely drinks more caffeine than is healthy for any normal human." Dick grimaced and rolled his eyes with a long suffering sigh.

"He...adored you, Jason," Dick said softly, eyes dropping to his hands, "still does. He swings between being convinced he's the best Robin there ever was, and being worried he won't live up to you." Dick finished with another sigh, this one far heavier. 

Jason sucked in a sharp breath, a bittersweet warmth filling him. He was no stranger to hero worship, not with how he'd idolized Dick and Bruce for a long time. But he'd never thought he'd be on the other end of it. Never thought someone would look at him and think 'That's a hero I want to be like'. 

"So if you meet him. Let him know he didn't let you down? He needs to hear it. I don't... Bruce didn't pick him, he more or less made it a non-negotiable thing. It's obvious he doesn't think he belongs. Hearing from his hero that he does, it might help." Dick was bordering the edges of begging as he looked at Jason, as he advocated for a boy he so obviously saw as a little brother.

What Dick was saying was changing some preconceived notions Jason had. He'd assumed Bruce had plucked up another child and shoved him into a uniform. 

The fact that it was being hinted at that Robin 3.0 had shoehorned himself into his position... it surprisingly didn't change anything. Bruce was the adult in the situation, there were always other options, other choices than putting a child on the front lines of a war.

If little baby bird just had to be included, there were other positions he could've taken. Support positions that wouldn't put him in danger. 

"Yeah... yeah, okay. I can do that." Jason nodded, contemplative. He could also try to talk baby Robin out of throwing himself in harms way. 

The life of a hero only ever ended one way, and Jason didn't know if he could take losing a brother he hadn't even gotten to meet.

"So what's the little tykes name?" Jason asked. Dick blinked at him for a moment before an evil grin spread across his face.

"Oh ho, so the great Jason Todd hasn't figured out the newest Robin's identity?" Dick teased and Jason groaned, rolling his eyes. 

"Yeah our resident hacker hasn't even been able to get anything. Little shit is good at covering his tracks," Jason grumbled, but his lips were tugging up in a proud smile. 

"Well, since he figured out our identities all on his own I think it's only fair that you have to figure it out on your own too." Dick crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back on the couch with a smug smile. 

"Really, Dick?" Jason asked, more frustrated with the fact he'd ruined his own chances of learning the smallest bird's identity by directly asking instead of waiting for Dick to slip his name into conversation.

Lesson number one of being a younger sibling. Never let your brother know they had something you wanted. How could he forget?

"What kind of big brother would I be if I just solved all your problems for you? It'll be good for you, build character and all that nice stuff." Dick was quite obviously loving knowing something Jason did not. 

Perhaps a first of the day, since Jason and Danny had spent the entire time since Dick had woken up steadily destroying his world view. 

"I hate you, Dickface," Jason grumbled.

"Nah, you love me," Dick grinned, there was a touch of insecurity edging his smile but when Jason smirked and shook his head Dick's smile gained strength. 

"Who loves who?" Danny's voice proceeded him as he regained visibility, phasing through the ceiling. Dick cursed, jumping slightly on the couch. 

"No one loves anyone." Jason snorted as Danny finished emerging from the ceiling. 

His clothes were fine, but Jason could see healing scratches on his skin from whatever fight he'd been in. Jason pushed down the over protective rage that wanted to rear its ugly head. 

Worried/Gone/Danger/Safe?/Safe?/Worried/Annoyed 

Safe/Fine/Fun/Familiar/Friend/Game/Greeting/Safe/Safe

Jason sighed in relief as he stood and grabbed onto Danny's hand, yanking the floating Ghost King closer to him and manhandling him onto the couch. From his pockets he pulled out first aid supplies and started methodically cleaning the healing wounds he could see.

Claw marks, so no Skulker. He used guns, and Jason didn't see a lot of burn marks from those. Or bullet holes either. There were some energy burns, light, but those were likely from ectoblasts, and it would be difficult to know who produced them. 

Danny wasn't shaking and had come back quickly, so no one with an electricity core. Technus and Vlad were out. No singed hair, so no fire cores either. So not Ember, even if she had been healed enough already to leave the Zone, it was unlikely she'd want to see the human realm for a long time. That nixed Fright Knight too. 

Not Clockwork, he wouldn't have made Danny chase him. He'd have just shown up. Possibly Wulf, he enjoyed popping in for a fun fight. But he would've gone looking for Jason immediately after. Frostbite wouldn't have fought Danny, and if he did there would've been broken bones from blunt force trauma. No plant matter, so not Undergrowth. 

"Jayyy I'm fine," Danny whined as Jason titled his hands back and forth, dabbing disinfectant on cuts and scrapes, earning hisses from Danny. He didn't pull away, though they both knew he could easily free himself. 

"Ouch. Jaybird, I'll heal just fine," Danny pouted as Jason started applying ointment and bandages, ignoring Danny's words entirely as he rolled up Danny's sleeves and started working on the injuries hidden by clothing. 

"You're not entirely immune to infection, no matter how almost dead you might be fucknugget," Jason chided as he continued his ministrations. 

"See what I have to live with? His hero name should've been Chicken with the way he mother hens," Danny turned his head to look at Dick, who was watching with ill hidden delight. 

Jason shot his brother a warning glare to keep his opinions on Jason's feelings for Danny to his damn self. 

If Jason had romantic feelings for Danny, he sure as shit wasn't going to confess via estranged brother in the apartment he and Danny had spent the entire morning cleaning. He'd do it somewhere fucking romantic. Like a picnic on the moon, so Danny could see the stars. With food handmade by Jason, all of Danny's favorites.

No. Jason had not planned such a thing. That would imply he intended to do it. Which also implied he did in fact have feelings, which he did not. Shut up Dick.

Jason moved on to dealing with the injuries to Danny's face, grabbing him by the chin in a firm but gentle hold as he started cleaning a cut on Danny's cheek that would've necessitated stitches on a human. 

No food stuck on Danny, so not the Lunch Lady. And Danny was too chipper for it to have been Boxy. Johnny and Kitty would've followed him to find Jason, so they were out. Though the scratches would've been in line with Kitty's fighting style. 

Danny was also too happy and full of energy, so not Spectra. Pandora wouldn't have fought him, just grabbed his ear and dragged him off. Dora would've looked for Sam first and Jason hadn't heard nearly enough screaming that would accompany the appearance of a dragon. 

"Nocturn?" Jason asked finally. It made sense. 

If Fright Knight could be considered an almost fatherly mentor figure to Jason, then Nocturn would be Danny's equivalent. 

It had happened after Clockwork made him more or less babysit Jason and Danny to ensure they got some rest. At first Nocturn had been... distant if not rude to Danny. Most of their previous interactions being fights and then council meetings which left them in an odd state of not enemies but not exactly friends either. 

But all it had taken was Danny exclaiming over a constellation on Nocturn's form for the two to begin to develop a bond forged through a similar love of the cosmos. 

After that Nocturn had officially taken up a permanent residence in the Ghost King's castle. Allegedly to ensure the king got enough rest. Which he did do. But in reality it was so he could talk stars with Danny for days on end. 

He was also not a bad hand at state craft, from his time on the council and as an Ancient. His support and tutelage, woven through talks of galaxies and stars light-years away, had done more to teach Danny how to rule than years of lessons with Dora. 

He was also perhaps an even worse mother hen than Jazz. Constantly fussing over any wounds on Danny, and keeping a strict eye on Danny's sleeping habits. 

Jason got some of it but it was clear Danny was always Nocturn's first priority. Jason was fine with that, he had ample older ghosts watching over him. Danny on the other hand had far fewer. 

Sure, he had plenty he readily called friends, but many ghosts never forgot Danny was their king. And as such would hesitate or even refrain from speaking up or against him. Ancients forbid they chastised him. 

Nocturn was the only older ghost who was around Danny often in the last two years. And able and willing to tell his king when it was time to go to sleep, or when a decision was unbelievably stupid. The others who could or would do that had their own Realms or duties to deal with. 

He was also perhaps the only one who could convince, read: annoy, Clockwork into opening a portal to Gotham. And would do it just to find Danny.

"Yeah, he was worried about me so he said he wanted to come by. I sent him to the Mausoleum to chill. Lucky thing we have so many extra bedrooms, cause I don't think he'll be leaving soon," Danny sighed dramatically as Jason finally released his face.

"He was supposed to stay back and," Danny's eyes slid to Dick for a moment, "manage things for me. He told me Clockwork stepped up to handle it until the portal's done." Danny shrugged and Jason just gave him an unimpressed stare. 

He had no idea what made Danny think Nocturn wouldn't come running after Danny when he hadn't seen him in over forty eight hours. It was no small miracle he hadn't come sooner. It'd probably taken him that long to wear down Clockwork.

"Do you two live in a Mausoleum? Is that a ghost thing?" Dick muttered, voice somewhere between horrified and awed. 

Danny and Jason locked eyes, amusement billowing out of them until they couldn't hold it anymore and they burst into laughter.

"Okay. Okay, Sam was right. That name is killer." Danny cackled. 

"Wait, wait, wait. Was that a pun?" Dick asked, perking up as his eyes shone with the unholy glee of one punny individual finding another.

And Jason knew he'd never know peace again in his afterlife.

"Dead on furry boy," Danny winked, using finger guns while Jason was stuck somewhere between laughing his ass off and wanting to melt through the floor from second-hand embarrassment. 

"Well, I'm not sure if Jason told you this but I'm a bit of a comedi-hen myself," Dick puffed himself up, a grin on his face and Jason was leaning ever closer to melting through the floor. 

His personal hell was most definitely being caught in the middle of a pun battle between his brother and Danny.

"He may have mentioned that you have a spectre-cular sense of humor," Danny grinned back.

"I said his jokes could kill the dead," Jason piped up.

"That was just fowl, Jason," Dick gasped, clutching at his throat as if he had pearls to grab.

"Un-boo-lievably mean," Danny agreed as Jason groaned loudly.

"Please, someone shoot me so I don't have to deal with you shits." Jason begged almost hoping Desiree was around to hear his wish. 

"Oh no, looks like someone's being a boore," Dick cooed at Jason, who grabbed his gun with every intention of shooting Dick to make the fucking puns stop.

He hadn't even killed anyone. What the fuck had he done to deserve this torment?

"He just has a clucking terrible sense of humor," Danny cackled as he effortlessly removed the gun from Jason's grip and set it to the side. 

"I will leave. I swear to fuck." Jason threatened, rising from the couch. 

"Don't be such a booser," Dick taunted, Jason turned and reached for Dick's throat. 

"Don't be mad. I just spook the truth!" Dick laughed as he jumped up and used the couch as a springboard to flip away, out of range of Jason's hands. 

"Dick, I think this is going to be the beginning of a bootiful friendship," Danny egged on his partner in crime, cackling when Jason turned to him, phasing through the couch to escape. 

"Why are you two like this? Why can't you just be normal?" Jason demanded, only realizing after the words were out of his mouth what he'd done. 

Fuck.

Danny's lips spread in a devious smirk before he opened his mouth and let out a shriek.

"I hate you. I hate you so fucking much you assmonkey," Jason growled, throwing his hands up in the air in anger. 

Danny switched his expression on a dime, icy blue eyes widening, tears filling them as his lip trembled.

"You hate me?" Danny warbled and Jason, despite being perfectly aware that this was a bit, couldn't help himself from trying to comfort Danny. 

"Jason! I can't believe you're being so mean to my ghost," Dick, never one to miss a chance for a good dramatic bit, grabbed Danny and pulled him into a hug. Danny played it up, letting off small sniffles and cries, interspersed with forlorn chirps.

"Shit. Danny, I-" Jason fumbled his words, stepping closer.

Conern/Worry/Sorry/Sorry/Care/Concern/Fix/IFix?/Fix/Concern/Help

Jason pushed the emotions, not noticing when soft, worried chirps fell from his lips. Why would he? It was simply a facet of ghost language to use chirps and trills suffused with emotions to talk.

"Wait. Little Wing. Did you just chirp? Like a bird?" Dick demanded, delight and something usually only seen directed at baby animals coloring his voice. Jason froze in place, one hand outstretched, reaching for Danny.

Fuck.

He'd need to change his name. He wasn't sure there was a plastic surgeon good enough, but he'd find one. Maybe he could ask Constantine, surely the drunkard would have magic that could entirely change Jason's appearance. He'd need to leave the country. No. The planet. Probably the entire solar system. 

He could totally be a space pirate. Or maybe get into one of the Lantern Corps. Yeah. He could do that. Maybe the Green ones would take him. He had a lot of willpower. Or the Red ones? He had rage to spare. Maybe even Black? He was already dead. He'd figure it out on the way.

Danny raised his head slightly and let off another set of chirps, mixed with little trills and. Ancients damn it. Jason responded in kind on instinct. 

Amusement/Glee/Hilarious/Tricked/Victory/Happy/Happy/Smug

Danny finally dropped his act, the biggest shit eating grin Jason had ever seen spreading across his face. 

Jason was going to shoot it off of him. Right. Fucking. Now.

"Three seconds to run asswipe." Jason growled as he pulled a gun out, Jane, and clicked the safety off. Danny's lips fell into an O before he phased out of Dick's arms.

"One."

"So nice to meet you Dick! Seance you later. Don't want to undead all our hard work. After all when it comes to Jay, anything ghosts. We'll keep you ghosted. Looks like I'm about to get some exorcise." Danny rapid fired puns like he'd been saving them up for this moment as he flew towards a window.

"Two."

"Looks like I'll be facing some grave consequences. Be sure to phone a fiend if you're ever in need. We'll be testing my fight or fright response." Danny grinned devilishly as he started phasing through the wall.

"Wait! You're leaving? How can I contact you?" Dick demanded, an edge of panic to his voice as Jason strode through the living room, picking up the gun Danny had set aside, blazing green eyes locked on his king, as unwavering as the gun he was pointing.

"Check your phone! Our numbers are already there! Don't ghost us, we should chill sometime!" Danny called out, only his head left in the apartment. 

"Three."

"Oh sheet!" Danny vanished, and Jason only took a moment to nod at his brother before he barreled at the wall, phasing through it and turning invisible in the same moment as a flash of white light covered him. 

He could hear Danny's delighted laughter in the air as he took off.

Tag Cult Part 1

The chase was on.

💚💚💚💚💚

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The King and his Red Knight

DPxDC crossover fic

Part 1

Really sorry to everyone who suffered through the fact that I didn't know about the existence of readmore. I can't fix the thread now but the individual posts are better? Sorry I have like a very rough idea of how this site works 😭

Check the: The King and his Red Knight tag to find all the parts

"Go here, Danny. Go then, Danny. Go to a random cemetery in the middle of the night for no reason, Danny." A voice grumbled, accompanied by the sound of sneakers rhythmically tapping stone.

Danny Fenton, currently Phantom, sat on a gravestone, his white hair a beacon in the dark night. There were no stars in the sky for him to gaze upon, their light hidden behind swaths of smog and neon lights playing off the gray clouds.

Clockwork had dumped him here, with no explanation for why. Not that he ever really explained much when he sent Danny off on his tasks. He supposed he should be grateful, at least he was in the same when rather than being transported a thousand years into the past.

"Wait here King Phantom. You will understand in time." Danny mimicked his mentor's voice as he let himself float off the grave he'd been dumped on after Clockwork shoved him out of a portal. His body floated higher until he could flip around, his legs crossing. He sat upside down, his chin in his palm as he glared petulantly at the assembled gravestones surrounding him, his toxic green eyes glowing.

"So far all I've seen is a concerning amount of ecotplasm for a city without a ghost portal and some blob ghosts! How long am I supposed to wait here?" Danny asked the air, and the aforementioned blob ghosts who were hanging off his body, soaking in the ambient ecotoplasm he radiated at all times now.

Neither provided him with an answer to his question and Danny let out a frustrated groan as he lowered his still flipped body to look once more on the gravestone he'd been tasked with waiting on.

Jason Todd, the name read. The dates, too close together, made something in Danny squeeze painfully. He'd been young, barely older than Danny when he stepped into the portal. Only for this teenager there had been no ectoplasm to bind to his dying body and repair the damage of death and force him back into a semblance of life.

"Who were you and why did Clockwork send me to you?" Danny asked the gravestone, one clawed finger tracing the words before he pulled back with a sigh when the gravestone gave him no explanation. The dead didn't always speak, not even to their king.

Turning his body Danny looked over the rest of the cemetery. It was empty, as most usually were this time of night, of the living. There were a few shades wandering around, circling closer to him, drawn by his presence. No full ghosts though, but oddly enough there rarely were in cemeteries. This was where the dead came to rest. To remember, if they wanted to. Cemeteries were sacred spaces to the dead, much as a temple or a church would be for the living who were religious. Ghosts who still clung to life, to their obsessions, did not frequent cemeteries, did not dare trespass and disturb those who had already found their peace.

Danny himself was an oddity. He had never shied from cemeteries, enjoying the peace he found in them, the guarantee of safety offered. And perhaps, he mourned that he himself would never have a gravestone for the living to place their flowers and their tears at. Who would make a grave for someone who was both alive and dead? There would never be a body to bury for him. His human half would continue to live on so long as his ghost core remained and could fuel it.

Maybe that was why he found peace in cemeteries, for all his whining that Clockwork had dumped him here. Cemeteries were for the living and the dead, one of the only places both existed in harmony naturally. For someone who was as much dead as he was alive such a place held a certain degree of belonging for him.

Danny straightened out in the air, letting his body lie above the grave as he folded his arms behind his head and looked up at the covered sky. He complained and whined about this task, but he was secretly glad that Clockwork had given him something to do. Even if it was just 'hang out in a random cemetary'.

Ever since he'd graduated high-school, revealed himself to his parents and discovered how deep prejudice and hate could run, and he'd run away to the Infinite Realms for sanctuary while his friends moved forward with their lives, he'd felt unmoored. A ghost with no haunt. Bored was too light a word for the gaping emptiness he felt in his chest, for the loneliness clawing at him. Clockwork, Wulf, Pandora they could help chip at the ache inside of him but not banish it. Not now that his family, his friends, were spread so far apart and so distant from him.

Not that he resented their choices, their distance, in fact he'd fought for them to do just that, to get out of Amity Park, to go to college, to become more than overworked teen superheroes. Still he missed them, even if he could visit them whenever he wanted. It was becoming clear as time moved forward that the world they belonged to and the one he did were two different things.

Danny Fenton couldn't go to college when his parents had declared him dead. Danny Fenton didn't exist as far as the government was concerned. Danny Phantom couldn't return to Amity when those same parents were waiting to capture him and tear him apart 'molecule by molecule'. Danny Phantom couldn't go back when the GIW were crawling over the town like ants.

So neither Danny Fenton or Danny Phantom returned to Amity after that day. And he made sure they couldnt follow him when he ensured the portal that took his life to function never opened again. He didn't need the portal any longer to get in and out of the Infinite Realms, and it was safer for the ghosts, his subjects, if the temptation of the Fenton portal was gone.

The world of the living was not yet ready to accept that the dead didn't always stay dead. And Danny would keep his people safe until they were.

Danny jolted from his lazing state of reverie when a pulse of emotion rocked through him, the strength of it stealing his breath if he had any to take.

Fear/Trapped/Dark/Fear/Help/HELP pounded into him and Danny frantically flipped around, head swiveling, poisonous green eyes wide as he triedf to locate the source. The emotions, the plea for help, burned his core, his Obsession screamed at him.

Help/SomeonePlease/Dark/Trapped/CANTBREATHE/HELP another wave of messages, of emotions pushed themselves at Danny and this time underneath the onslaught he could hear a rhythmic thudding. Danny looked down, horror filling him when he realized the thudding was coming from under the ground. From the grave he'd been hovering over for an hour now.

Danny flew down, sending back a wave of I'mHere/HelpIsComing/I'mComing to the boy trapped in his own coffin, feeling the intense wave of relief and hope sent back before he dived into the earth as if it wasn't there. Danny paused for a moment when he passed the thick wooden coffin, seeing a boy in the dark with wide, panicked blue eyes and fingers tipped with shredded nails and fresh blood.

"Hey, I'm going to get you out of here, okay?" Danny told the boy, keeping his voice gentle, soft. The boy jolted, fixating on the only source of light, Danny's growing green eyes. Danny hoped his smile came off as calming instead of 'freaky AF' as Tucker liked to call it. He grabbed the boy, Jason, as carefully as he could and then let his intangibility wash over the terrified teen as he lifted them both out of the coffin.

When they emerged from the coffin and the ground Danny set the teen down, leaning him against the gravestone, his own gravestone, and pulled back a bit. The boy was gasping in air as if the fetid, polluted air was the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted.

Danny tilted his head as he watched the boy ground himself. Now that the emotions were leveling out and his Obsession was purring in contentment rather than growling in a frenzy, Danny could feel something off about the boy.

Disregarding the fact that he'd just come back from the dead, of course. But that wasn't the oddest thing Danny had seen in his afterlife. No the boy felt... not like a normal, living human. Not even like an Amity Park resident, who all felt more than slightly liminal. No this boy, this Jason Todd, felt closer to liminal than even Jazz, Tucker or Sam, who were three of the most liminal humans Danny had ever been around.

Jason felt almost...like a ghost. But not. Danny could feel the tickle in his throat that proceeded his ghost sense but the tell-tale mist never emerged. It was as if Jason was...like him. But Danny couldn't sense a core either. Even halfas had cores.

"Who are you?" Jason spoke, breaking Danny from his thoughts and examination. Jason was looking at him with a mix of gratitude and suspicion. Which, fair. Danny had just pulled him from his own coffin and there were so many questions that could stem from all of this, disregarding all the weirdness that was just Danny himself.

"I'm Danny, Danny Phantom. Or just Phantom. I go by either. And you're Jason, right?" Danny asked, smiling at the teen and oops, yeah that was definitely his scary smile based on the slight flinch there. It wasn't his fault his teeth were too sharp now and his lips split a bit too wide.

"How did you know that?" Jason asked, blue eyes narrowing. Danny nodded at the gravestone the boy was leaning against with a raised brow. Jason turned and almost toppled over from the movement. Danny frowned as the boy caught himself on his gravestone. His skin was still pale, too pale, and as Danny watched Jason swayed again.

"Shit. You're fading. You didn't form a core and your body isn't stabilizing." Danny cursed, moving towards the boy who scrambled back, only to be stopped by his grave.

"What the hell are you doing?" Jason asked, hands fisting as he tried to rise only to fall back to the ground when his legs refused to hold his weight.

"Saving your life. The dead aren't supposed to come back. There's always a price to pay, a balance that is struck. Currently, as you are, if I don't get enough ectoplasm in you to form your core, you'll fade and turn into a brain-dead husk." Danny told Jason, tone stern and no nonsense as he grabbed him. Jason made an effort to break free, but it was weak, and even at full strength, he wouldn’t have been able to break Danny's hold. Few in this realm could.

If they had the time, Danny would've approached this situation in a far different manner, but this close he could hear Jason's heartbeat, a weak flutter in his chest, skipping beats as it tried to fuel a body that was past saving. Jason didn't have the time for Danny to approach this gently and kindly, to coax trust out of the teen like he would a feral cat.

Jason had minutes left before his ectoplasm starved body consumed itself trying to make a core and failed because while wherever they were had more ambient ectoplasm than most places, it was far from enough to sustain the birth of a halfa. Maybe if Jason had stayed dead for another year, he'd have naturally formed a core and risen as a proper ghost. But that wasn't what happened, somehow he'd gathered enough to fix his body of whatever wounds or illness had put him in that coffin to begin with and come back to 'life' but without a core to sustain his body he'd be dead, again, in minutes. And Danny was not about to watch while a teenager, another teenager, died.

"How do I know I can trust you?" Jason hissed as Danny pushed his arms down and laid his clawed hands on Jason's chest.

"You don't. But you don't have another choice." Danny said with a shrug. "Now are you going to let me save your life or not?" Danny asked, not moving his hands. He'd save Jason either way but this would be easier if Jason worked with him.

"Fine." Jason spat and Danny smirked as his hands began to glow a toxic green that matched his eyes.

Ectoplasm pooled out of his hands and rushed into Jason, filling him until the boy glowed bright enough to rival the neon lights of the city around them. The green light flared around him like an aura, slowly shrinking but getting impossibly brighter as the glow centralized around his chest until a small glowing ball of green, like a trapped star, blazed from his chest.

Jason gasped, back arching as Danny pulled his hands away and the light vanished under Jason's skin. For a moment Jason's blue eyes burned green and his hair flashed snow white before returning to black, with one single lock of unearthly white left above his forehead. Jason collapsed back against his grave, chest heaving. Danny watched, eyes full of a sad understanding.

"What the fuck was that?" Jason panted out.

"Welcome to the world of the half alive, half dead." Danny said with a smile. "Want to get a burger and talk about it?" He asked, standing up and dusting off his hands.

"Make it a chili dog and you've got a deal."

~~~~~

Fixed some typos added some lines

Maybe I'll continue this AU. Maybe not. This scene was in my head for days and I wanted to share

[derelictlovefool]

❝​🇷​​🇪​​🇻​​🇮​​🇻​​🇪​​🇸​​🇨​​🇪​​🇷​​🇪​—⦂❝

— 𝐓𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞. 𝐀 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠.

Notes: Read Part One, Two, Three, and Four! Or do whatever, it's up to you! This was going to be the final part, but you know how it goes :)

Warning/s: Canon Typical behaviour, complicated relationships, explicit language, couples counselling

Words: 2.7k

The night had been long, Wade somehow managing to sequester your couch for the night while you curled up in bed. Both of you felt like pure and utter shit, more than once Wade considered crawling into your bed just to hold you again and you fought the stray thoughts of going to join him on the couch. It was frustrating and you tossed and turned until three that morning. You had no intentions of going into work or calling in, luckily for you having your ex be an infamous merc meant they wouldn't fire you over it—they'd met him, they heard about the breakup. If anything they were more likely to file a missing person's report to the police.

Which would actually be annoying so maybe you should call in. You groaned, rolling over and searching for your phone on the nightstand—only to realise those fuckers had taken it. You slapped your hand uselessly against the wood with a whine, face falling back into your pillow as you added up the amount of paychecks it would take to replace it. God dammit. Fuck.

The door to your room squeaked open and you dragged your eyes across the room to spot Wade's baby blue eyes staring back at you, it almost made you jump up—seeing his eyes again. His expression was sullen despite the comical way it poked into your room and you rolled onto your back with a sigh.

"Come in Wade." You waved him in, your arm heavy and sore and you winced, your senses coming back to you enough for you to finally note how all of you was sore. You hadn't taken stock of the scrapes on your body or the rough treatment you'd be given yesterday, they hadn't done much besides tie you to that chair but they'd been anything but gentle getting you there.

Wade skulked in and sat himself on the very end of your bed, strong back to you—still in the suit. Of course. He didn't say anything and neither did you. You didn't know what to say and you figured Wade was in the same boat. Yesterday had been a lot to process. You squeezed your eyes shut and exhaled, all the tiredness from the month finally caught up to you and you felt like a used rag. You'd been cleaned up at the hospital but you still didn't feel clean.

You felt a weight on your lap and lifted your head, recognition flooded you as the thin rectangle caught your eye. Your phone. You glanced at Wade as his hand retreated, his bare face directed at the adjacent wall as you slowly reached down to grab it. It was dead and more than a little scuffed up, a crack now etched into the top right of the screen leading halfway down to the middle. Great. You fumbled with the charger and plugged it in, hoping it worked. Even if it was a bit more janky from here on out you did not want to spend any cash fixing it or getting a new one. If you were gonna spend your money it'd be on a damn vacation, you more than earned one.

You set the phone down on your bedside table to await the reveal of its fate and flopped back, sighing and staring up at the ceiling. Now back to your relationship issues. You rubbed a hand over your eyes, unsure of where to even begin, you felt stuck and you knew there were only two ways this could go. Both would be tough but in one maybe you both had a chance at being kinda happy again.

"Were you serious about the counselling?" You really did fucking miss him and despite yourself you couldn't see any way to get through this without him. Problematic details be damned, you had a lot of worse issues you could deal with in therapy first. You pulled yourself up and watched the back of Wade's head, the visible tissue and missing skin deforming between the rest of his marred skin. His shoulders rose and fell, the indication of a deep and heavy sigh.

"Yeah, don't blame me if it doesn't do nothin' though."

"The only way it doesn't do anything is if you don't try. Are you willing to try for me or not?" At your question Wade turned, facing you and matching your steely gaze with a sincere one, a deep burning flame in his pale eyes you never usually got to see. It kinda sent chills through you, at how serious he looked.

"I'd burn this entire universe to the ground for you," he paused as he took on your expression, "I can do the counselling," His tone smoothed into something genuine, easing up as he leant back. You didn't know what to say at first, your heart was trudging through a dance it usually did so smoothly and you were aching all over. This was a start.

"Now if they start talkin' about us separating for good, I might have a bullet with their name on it—"

"Wade." He could never let the air still for a moment, could he? You cut him off and he smiled, it was an almost easy smile—almost relaxed. He held his hands up in surrender and you bit down your own crooked smile. It felt so similar to how you used to be, just with an overcast of what had happened. An undercurrent of that pain that would be there for a while. But maybe you could get used to it and eventually it'd fade away. You could only hope.

"So uh, does this mean I can move back in?" Wade broke the silence again as he picked at some imaginary lint on your bed, flicking it away as you shook your head. You tried not to give in at the kicked-puppy look that etched into his face when you did.

"Not yet." You murmured, trying to soften the blow. It wasn't forever, just for now, just until you two really sorted this shit out properly. Maturely, if you were capable.

"Okay, but can you tell Al because man has she not been happy to have me back." He leant back and it was almost like you felt him putting back up the wall of comedy to save himself from drowning in—all of this. You wished you could do that as easily as he did, but you were still clawing at the surface with water in your lungs. You did find it within you to chuckle though, the thought of Al having to deal with him crashing in her apartment again was pretty funny. Not for her, Wade was a terrible roommate—before you set up some big boundaries and house rules anyway. And that apparently never worked for her.

"Maybe that's because you replace her sugar with salt and other dumb shit." You mused, pulling an extra pillow behind you so you could prop yourself up and lean back.

"She crushed laxatives into my mayonnaise, it's a free for all in there—she's not as innocent as you think." He wagged his finger at you and you actually laughed, a real laugh. You knew Al wasn't innocent, she was in her seventy's for fuck sake. She was also a riot, you'd seen her beef with Wade and the shit they got up to and it was a great show from the sidelines. Until they dragged you into it, then shit truly became a free for all. Wade didn't follow up to keep making you laugh like he usually did, he stayed quiet and watched you with a kind of smile that twisted your stomach into knots. It was so gentle, as if he was just enjoying taking you all in.

It was maybe too much for you right now.

You covered your mouth and glanced at your phone, seeing the two percent enough for you to pick it up and turn it on. You would deny it being a distraction, you had a good reason.

"I should call my boss so they don't sick a welfare check on me."

"Right. You do that, I'll get breakfast."

"You—Wade I don't—" You struggled, split down the middle with what you wanted and what you were ready for. Having breakfast with Wade would feel like you were just pushing everything under the rug and like you'd said the night before that is not what you wanted. Wade paused and nodded slowly, reading between the lines, your choppy protest and your eyes.

"Good point, I already promised Al waffles so I should get on that." He turned his back on you again and you felt your chest tighten, his tone deflating with each word. He stepped halfway out your door and stopped, turning to face the wall and visions of the night he came to see you dusted over your eyelids.

"Call me, for the uh, counselling thing." He sounded so awkward even talking about it and you could tell this was going to be hard for him. It was going to be hard for you too, that was the whole point. You both had to walk through the well of garbage before you got anywhere close to getting out of the sewers—and as long as he was willing to walk with you, you'd give it your all to make it out the other side.

"I will Wade, see you."

"See you."

When he disappeared from view you listened to his heavy, thudding footsteps and felt your heart matching his pace. It followed him out the front door, catching on the hinges at it shut. You deflated against your pillows, emotionally exhausted as you stared down at your contacts. Your thumb felt like lead as it hit your boss' number and your voice felt flat when they picked up and you gave them a very vague rundown of why you wouldn't be in. To your surprise they gave you a few days off and once you'd hung up you had nothing to do but lay back down and get some more sleep. You could worry about everything else later.

Six months later in fact; you found yourself walking out of your couple counsellors office.

Wade was hot on your heels, his hands stuffed into his sweatpants as he once again fell into step as your faithful shadow. He had a black mask covering the bottom of his face, cap pulled down far enough to hide the top half, and hood pulled over his head to guard the back. It was a whole other mask, the mask of Wade Wilson, and it was one you were getting well acquainted with. Your first session had been fucking awful, Wade did not cope with being counselled—not that either of you expected him to in the first place. He almost made it to the end of the hour before storming out after the counsellor asked some touchy question he felt was stepping over the line.

It wasn't great, but you'd chosen to let it go. It was the first session, and you were equally as uncomfortable answering many of the questions and hypotheticals they posed to you. The second session was a bit easier, the counsellor backing off the topic that had set Wade off and manoeuvring to another part of your relationship you could work on first. The mask. There was a lot of mumbo jumbo and therapy speak about how it was not only keeping him hidden from the world but keeping a wedge between the both of you and yada yada. You'd never considered it that way, it had always just been a part of him—but Wade had taken it to heart so maybe it had some truth to it.

The few times he was at your apartment after that he started taking the mask off, then the whole suit. You'd see him partly naked in the past, of course, but there was always some piece of Deadpool still clinging onto him. The mask, the boots, the gloves—he was never fully exposed. But that had changed. You were nowhere near having sex again, you still had barely touched aside from brushes of the hand and legs bumping into each other on the couch. But your counsellor had suggested small acts of intimacy, focusing on the emotional connection with nothing sexual to any of it. Wade had fussed about it and you hadn't been sure if it was another defence or if he genuinely had never considered non-sexual intimacy but you hadn't dwelled on it.

For your sanity and the hope of your relationship, you needed to let a lot of things go.

All of this led you to a few nights ago where you'd invited Wade to shower, no innuendoes, no wandering hands on his part—just a shower to get clean and be close. Your heart had been thudding in your ears when you asked, and the way he'd stared at you had made you want to take it back, but he agreed just before you did. And you were glad he did. It was the first time there had been nothing between you, just bare skin and steam from the shower. He was beautiful, all of him, all the jagged scars and bumps and divots—the contours of his muscles and shape of his jaw and width of his hands—okay so he'd touched you once. Just his hands on your biceps as you gently lathered him in soap suds, you hated that they'd been shaking and that you had tears in your eyes as your fingertips traced over his torso.

You thought you and Wade had been close before, you were inseperable and always touching—but that shower had been something else and it had taken everything in you not to kiss him and tell him you loved him a million times over. Afterwards you'd actually almost cuddled on the bed, side by side on the bed and holding hands. Wade had not said a single word through the whole thing and you had been dying to know what he was thinking.

You were hoping he would have said in today's session but he had been unusually quiet, letting you do a majority of the talking. When asked why he just looked at you, and what he'd said still had your insides fluttering incessantly.

"I don't know how I thought I could live without you, you are my whole fuckin' world. We can keep doing this," He had gestured to the counsellor without taking his eyes off of you, "but I'm gonna be stuck to your shoe like a mouldy piece of gum until the universe goes lights out or they figure out a way to kill me. As long as you don't give up on me—even if you do." He had grabbed your hand with such a strange mixture of gentleness and roughness, a perfect mix of him, tense as he held it to his chest so you could feel the thudding of his heart.

"I'm yours, no matter what or who happens, I'll always drag what's left of me back to you."

The elevator binged, pulling you back into the present and you stepped into the elevator with your heart in your throat. Wade had never spoken like that, never used that tone before—even in those moments where he was serious and genuine. This had been a whole other level of raw and real and it had shaken you off balance. The months and the counselling had been slowly putting back the pieces, scrubbing away at that anger and pain that was slowly becoming an unnoticeable simmer in the very back of your head.

Wade had been doing what you wanted; he'd changed. Made the effort to do better for you, for both of you. Fuck, he was even taking less jobs, he'd been dropping by your apartment and work every other day and everything was almost easing back into something akin to comfortable again. It was almost like the old days but so much better, no slamming doors and words muttered under your breath that you couldn't say to each other's faces. Your eyes could finally meet and your words could come out gentle and understanding, sometimes still rough around the edges but never enough to tear down the progress. Never enough to send that wall back up.

Things were better and now all that was standing in the way—was you.

End notes: Next one should be the final part just to wrap things up and get that much needed happy ending! See you then!!

[dingodad]

ok so throw out all of my prior speculation as to what was going to happen in that chapter lol. it was so short.. combined with how short chapter 4 was (and the fact that this one doesn't even get its own chapter number) i'm inclined to think they were supposed to be one chapter with davepeta and jasprose maybe being some comic relief after the heavier vriska content? but they got split when the comic made the switch to bimonthly. which i noticed with a couple of the updates prior to page 666 and was confirmed for me in the commentary.

hopefully this means the next one will be back to a certain length, but even knowing now that there's only actually one full chapter left has completely thrown all my expectations for how this arc was going to pace itself out. they ended this one on a really good note, leading us to expect that the next chapter will be set 4 years later (though there's still a part of me prepared to be psyched out and the reveal will be like. 400 years.) but the framing of it would seem to suggest vriska hasn't exactly spent those 4+ years chilling with the sprites and becoming a better person... like i suspected, we get a direct allusion to vriska's addictive relationship with 8-balls, suggesting she's not in a good place at all.

talking so much about fefeta yesterday led me for a brief second to suspect that she was the one calling davepeta (and davepeta didn't want to answer because they fucking hate talking with their alternate selves LOL) but instead we get a direct parallel between jasprose and davepeta which i somehow had not picked up on until the story pointed it out to me. alluding to the "bonus side-story set in the universe of another comic entirely" as if it's another extra-canonical pocket dimension like the Plot Point was really clever. so for the time being fefeta's role still hasn't been revealed, but considering all the talk about jane leading up to (and within) page 666 this added parallel seems to make it more and more plausible that vriska and jane's arcs are poised to intersect at some point...

i think previously i had been pretty sold on vriska's therapy arc being mostly straightforward with only minor setbacks, and i was entertaining the possibility that vriska would emerge WORSE from the plot point purely for my own hypothetical amusement... but after this one it truly does feel like it's up in the air. the 8-ball on chapter 5 only looks MORE ominous now if vriska has just spent 4 years getting worse rather than getting better. can you really just snap your fingers and reverse 4 years of downward spiralling in a single chapter of a visual novel...

[astercontrol]

you all know I'm not really interested in Legacy in anywhere near the depth that I'm interested in '82--

and YET, sometimes, these ideas keep coming to me

An idea in four weird acts:

1.

What if the Sea of Simulation was the same thing to Jordan that Clu was to Flynn.

what if she created it/ copied herself into it

and some version of her consciousness is in it, always working

and its purpose is to help make things

what if all the parts of the Grid that were made with her architectural skills just… appeared by emerging fully formed from the Sea

2.

what if this sentient Sea also, eventually, learned how to make living programs.

And those were the ISOs

like. I've seen theories about how the ISOs may have been like Flynn's children in a sense, because their creation may have somehow… spawned from his human presence on the Grid, or something

but… if the method of their creation also involved Jordan, this deepens that idea even further

(parallel to the River Jordan becomes almost painful…. body of water that has been the source and setting of endless history and life and culture but also endless war and violence. really that is… TOO much for me to even wanna get into. …moving on.)

3.

what if, as the creator of the ISOs, the Sea kept backups of her creations? What if the ISOs can be restored from her?

(If, as implied in the Betrayal comic, Clu poisoned the sea to prevent more ISOs emerging, then this may have harmed Jordan's program and/or the backups it was keeping.)

(But, maybe she has some form of protection. Maybe they're still in there and recoverable, if anyone's looking around after Legacy for ways to rebuild the Grid. We can only speculate!)

4.

As much as "reset buttons" that undo canonical harm are often seen as a lazy way out…

well, I often find them fascinating-- just for the (usually unexplored) ethical implications.

If everything and everyone that Clu destroyed can be brought back… what does this do to his villainhood?

And for this thought experiment, my brain is still stuck partway in the world of Riemann's fic The Five Stages of Rectification… where the premise is that both Clu and Flynn ended up still being alive after reintegration, just with their identities and worldviews very much shattered and needing to figure a whole lot of stuff out.

But whether or not Clu or Flynn still exist and have to live with this new reality-- and whether or not they are feeling remorse and seeking redemption--

the questions still remain deeply troubling, in regard to the atrocities that Clu committed, and the mistakes Flynn made that led to that happening.

if the Sea has backups... does it lessen the harm of what they did?

It may bring back everything they caused to be destroyed.

It doesn't change the intentions behind their actions. Doesn't change that many victims were killed with deliberate cruelty, and with the intention that they stay dead. (Ethical thought experiment: How much do intentions matter in comparison to outcome? Is this different depending on whether the outcome was better or worse than the intentions?)

It doesn't erase the suffering that happened during that destruction. The pain of those who were hurt and killed. The trauma of those who survived them. (Ethical thought experiment: If Clu could erase everyone's memory of the suffering he caused, thus removing the only thing still hurting anyone-- would it make things better, or worse?)

Further ethical thought experiment: How do these questions compare to arguments for why it is wrong to kill people in the real world, even if you believe that there is an afterlife where they will go and be happy forever?

just… a whole complicated MESS of ideas bursting out of this... which I am not even particularly interested in writing fic about, because deep philosophical moral questions are things I want in my fic as a background motif at MOST, and... this would definitely consume the entire theme of any story it got into.

Ah, Disney.

You can give every protagonist a dead mom who's such a non-character that it's easy to headcanon she never really existed.

BUT you cannot stop the fans from making something more out of what you've neglected.

Always.

[thevegandarkelf]

Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Nineteen

Masterlist

AO3 link

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist <3 (18+ only, MDNI)

Story is 18+ for mature content/themes, minors do not interact please

TW/CWs for this story--implied/referenced past rape, canonical violence, non-canonical violence, blood, gore, referenced past suicide, swearing, surgery, excessive drinking, nightmares, panic attacks, mention of scars, vomiting, amputation, medical procedures, non-con medical procedures, referenced past medical torture, referenced past drugging, attempted sexual assault, panic attacks, mental health struggles, referenced sibling death, referenced parent death, PTSD

Each chapter will have its own TW/CWs listed

This story, Lydia Vector, her family & bestie (c) me, TheVeganDarkElf

TWD & its characters (c) AMC & Robert Kirkman, the writer of the comic series

TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing, an intense hangover from blacking out while drinking, vomiting, nausea, gagging, discussion of nightmares (being tied up, being held at gunpoint), brief mention on gangrene

Word count: 2.7k

I felt myself starting to fall into my nightmare, my eyes blinking furiously and the feeling of my hands tied above my head coming into focus. Before I fell all the way into it, before everything in my view cleared up and the gun was forced into my mouth, I was awakened.

A hand stroked my arm, shaking me very gently, just enough to wake me. "Vec. Vec, wake up."

The pain in my head hit me like a hurricane. Words like throbbing, pounding, pulsating didn't feel like they even came close to describing the pain in my skull. I blinked my eyes open, and the light coming in from the window was blinding, somehow making the already intense headache worse. Daryl's usual sweet and soothing voice scratched my brain like nails on a chalkboard.

"Shh, why are you talking so loud?" I hushed. I rolled myself onto my back and realized I was still in bed and hadn't fallen out. I pulled myself back and up against the headboard. My entire body was sore.

"I'm whisperin'," he said, taking a seat on the bed at my feet.

"Fuck, my head," I groaned, leaning over and holding my head in my hands, "what the hell happened last night?"

"Ya blacked out," Daryl explained, "what's the last thing ya remember?"

The panic set in as I thought back to my last memory from the night before. It was very early in the night, after only one drink, where I reiterated to Rosita how drunk I was trying to get. It was the middle of the night now, probably around 3 or 4 in the morning, so there were somewhere between 8 and 10 hours completely unaccounted for. My stomach started doing somersaults, and the nausea began to set in.

"Umm, talking to Rosita when I got your drink for you," I said, "really early in the night. Daryl, what did I do? Did something happen?" My heart started racing, pounding against my ribcage and sending adrenaline surging through me. He must've noticed my panic, and he crawled up next to me and put a hand on my shoulder, drawing little circles with his thumb.

"Hey, you're ok. Nothin' happened," he reassured, "ya ever blacked out before?"

I shook my head, which was still in my hands. "No. Not even close. How did I get in here? Could I even walk? God, I'm such an idiot." I wanted to drink enough to numb the pain, so I got exactly what I asked for, but I got the world's worst hangover as a consequence.

"Brought ya in myself," Daryl assured, "ain't gonna let no one else touch ya when ya's that drunk."

"You had to carry me in here? Fuck, I'm so sorry. I mean, if anyone was going to have to carry me inside, I'm glad it was you." It was then that I realized I was no longer wearing the dress from the night before. "How did I get changed?"

"Maggie 'n Rosita helped ya with that," he explained. I picked my head up and ran my hand over the shirt sleeves, feeling the soft flannel under my cold fingers. I didn't recognize it as one of mine.

"Daryl, is this shirt yours?" I asked.

"Yeah."

I felt a little giddy inside knowing I was wearing a piece of Daryl's clothing. "Cool. It's mine now." There was a cramp in my abdomen, and I held my stomach in agony. "God, I can feel my liver being damaged." I turned my head to look at Daryl, whose beautiful blue eyes glistened in the moonlight. "So what happened last night? Did I make a fool of myself or say anything silly?"

"We can talk 'bout that in the mornin'. Ya should get back to sleep." My stomach churned, and the waves of nausea were quickly picking up speed.

"Move, move," I demanded, waving my hands in front of me like I was shooing him away. "Get out of the way, I'm gonna throw up." I slipped out of bed and sprinted to the bathroom, haphazardly slamming the door closed behind me. I barely made it to the toilet before I started, what felt like, projectile vomiting.

I'd never thrown up so much in my life. Not even the nastiest things I'd seen in the ER, the most foul-smelling gangrene, had me reacting like this. My hair cascaded around the sides of the toilet bowl, enveloping me in a curtain of shame as I continued assaulting the toilet with the contents of my stomach. I heard the door open, and my face quickly became very, very hot and red with embarrassment. I wanted to die in that moment.

The vomiting stopped for a moment, and my esophagus was thankful for the break. I had my arms folded up on the toilet seat, resting my forehead on my interlaced hands. "You don't wanna see this," I croaked as I heard Daryl step around behind me. He knelt down behind me, his left leg on the floor and his right one up next to me. He reached around and tenderly grabbed my curtains of hair, bringing it back and holding it like a ponytail with one hand. The other hand was gently caressing my back.

I couldn't deny it any longer—I was in love with this man.

"God, I could kiss you right now," I said. My voice caught in my throat, and I was kicking and punching and choking myself for letting the words in my brain slip off my tongue. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that." I could feel my stomach lurching again, and I continued throwing up, Daryl still rubbing my back all the while. I cringed wondering what he could've been thinking after that stupid statement I just made.

Not untrue, but stupid.

I thought I was never going to stop puking. My head was spinning, and the smell coming from the toilet bowl only made me dizzier and want to puke more. The sound of my heaving felt like nails being pounded into my skull with a hammer. I wanted to keel over and pass out just to make it stop. The only thing that was keeping me grounded in reality was his hand on my back. He didn't even so much as flinch every time my body heaved.

I was sure hours had passed by the time I finally lifted my head, nearly gasping for air as I closed the lid and flushed the toilet. I steadied myself as I caught my breath, one hand on the toilet bowl, the other absentmindedly on Daryl's knee. He still had my hair in a ponytail, and he never stopped rubbing my back once, reminding me that he was there.

"Fuck," I said once I was breathing normally again, "sorry you had to see that. And hear that."

"Ain't no thing," Daryl assured. He took my hair and draped it over my shoulder. "Ya feelin' any better?"

"Well my stomach is," I said. I used the toilet and his knee to help lift myself up so I could brush my teeth. I could feel the acid doing its work on my teeth, and it was vile.

Daryl stood with me, keeping a hand on my mid back and taking one of my hands with the other one to make sure I didn't fall over, or that he could catch me if I did. God, I'm such a baby, my brain said over and over again as he walked me to the bathroom sink.

"Where's your water bottle?" he asked.

"Umm, I think it's in the kitchen," I replied. He walked off once I was steady on the sink and brushing my teeth. He returned a couple of minutes later as I was finishing up.

"Ya ok to walk?" The room was spinning so hard that I couldn't keep my eyes open.

"I don't know," I lied. I didn't want him to feel like he had to carry me into bed again. But he was one step ahead of me.

"C'mon," he said as he wrapped an arm around me, already leaning over to scoop my legs up with the other one, "I got ya." "I got ya" would've had me swooning a lot harder if I didn't feel like the inside of a dumpster.

It was nice to be present this time when Daryl carried me to bed and to be able to appreciate it. He was so warm, almost suffocatingly, and I was being cocooned in it. The feeling of his broad chest rising and falling against me was heavenly. I wanted to stay here forever. I never wanted him to put me down.

I heard him kick the door open and felt my mattress underneath me as he set me in bed. He took my now-full water bottle off my dresser and went around to the other side of the bed, crawling in next to me.

"Stayin' hydrated will help," he said, holding my water out to me, "ya eat anythin' 'fore ya started drinkin'?" I took my water from him and shook my head.

"Not much, no," I explained, "I'm such an idiot. I'm literally a doctor, I know better." I sipped at my water slowly, making sure not to chug it too fast and make myself sick again.

"Nah, not an idiot. Just got a bit shitfaced. We've all done it." I laughed a little at his description of my blacking out as "a bit shitfaced." He scooted closer to me until we were almost right against each other and snaked an arm around me.

Daryl was always so tender, so respectful when he touched me. He only ever touched my arms, shoulders, my back only above my waist, and sometimes my head, other than when he had to touch my legs to pick me up. When he did, his touch was so light, like being tickled by a feather, and he handled me like I was glass, like I was fine china. He was such a gentleman and expected nothing from me in return. At first, he was not touchy at all, avoided it and kept a few feet between us at all times, if he could help it. It was like once he tested the boundaries and saw that I was ok with it, the floodgates opened, and he became very touchy when we were alone. There was always so much care behind his touch, even when it was something as simple as brushing a hair out of my face while I was cooking or tapping on my arm to get my attention. The man who could be a bit hotheaded at times around others and was a self-proclaimed tough guy was a massive softie in private. And I loved it.

"Daryl, can you tell me what happened last night? I'm too anxious to wait," I said. I was biting at the inside of my lip in anticipation, afraid of what silly goofy things I might've said or done. What sort of feelings I might've confessed to Daryl in my drunken state.

"Ya spent almost the whole time with Rosita, Maggie, 'n Michonne, so I dunno what happened there, ya'd have to ask 'em. There's some gate asshole, tried to get ya alone with him." He pulled me a little closer with his arm. I couldn't tell whether it was intentional or subconscious. “Don't worry, I got in his way. Brought ya inside after that. Maggie 'n Rosita helped ya change. Then ya passed out."

A man tried to get me alone when I was so drunk, I probably didn't even know my own name. Couldn't say I was surprised. Just disappointed. I was grateful to know that my friends were there & that Daryl intervened. However, it was upsetting that even in the sanctity of the walls, I still had to be worried for my safety. And given my nightmares, that made it all the more upsetting. A single tear escaped my eye, and I tried to quickly wipe it away before Daryl noticed.

"Did I say anything goofy?" I asked. I was both afraid to know and dying to know at the same time. He was quiet for a while, looking down at his feet at the end of the bed, like he was trying to decide what to share and what to keep a secret. "Tell me everything. I wanna know."

"Ya kept insistin' ya's just tipsy. Wanted us to leave ya outside since ya's too dizzy to walk," he explained, "ya's humming a lot. And ya told me I was real handsome. Insisted ya meant it."

I knew getting inebriated would have me saying some things I maybe didn't want to. I told Rosita to stop me if she thought I might say something, and while I wanted to think she tried her best, I wanted to die knowing that I had actually expressed to Daryl how attractive he was. But this flirtationship had essentially turned into a relationship, minus the confession of feelings and more intimate physical affection. One of us was going to have to make a further move, or else we'd just be going in circles forever.

"I know I was blacked out when I said it, but I did mean it," I said, "you're a handsome guy, Daryl. You deserve to know that."

It was nearly pitch black in the room, even with the moonlight coming in through the window, which was now minimal as clouds had taken over the sky. He was blushing, I was sure of it. I closed the very small space that remained between us and rested my head on his shoulder. His lack of response made me nervous, but I could understand it. Daryl wasn't the best with words, and being sheepish when it came to the field of romance, he probably wasn't sure what to say. Eventually, though, he found some words.

"Thanks. You too." A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth in amusement. "Shit, I mean pretty. You're real pretty." I was blushing hard, and I wondered if he could feel the heat radiating off of my face on his shoulder.

"Thanks Daryl," I said, letting out a relaxed sigh and closing my eyes, "your shirt's real comfy by the way. It's like a blanket." A soft chuckle escaped his lips.

"Funny. Ya said the same thing earlier," he said, "Rosita told ya it was mine, and ya thought ya's gonna get in trouble 'til Maggie said I brought it in for ya." I let out a small snort-chuckle.

"That sounds like something I would say when I'm drunk," I laughed, "I mean, I've never been that drunk before, but it just feels in character for me." The pain in my head made its way to my eyes, reminding me of its presence. “Ugh, and I'm never getting that drunk again."

"Probably a good idea," Daryl said, "you'll feel like hell for a while, but it'll pass. Sleep'll help too." I let out a very long yawn, my body reminding me of how tired I was, though I figured there was no way I'd be able to sleep with this headache.

"Catch me in bed all day. If anyone needs me tomorrow, tell them not to," I groaned.

"Speakin' o' tomorrow, I got overnight watch," Daryl said, "was wonderin' if ya wanted to join. Keep me company." I'd never been up in the watchtower in all my time at Alexandria, and being up there alone with Daryl up in a tower would certainly fulfill my princess fantasy.

"Yeah. I'd really like that," I said, "that sounds nice." I continued sipping on my water to hopefully help quell the burning in my throat from my bathroom incident.

"Ya want me to stay in here tonight?"

"Daryl, be real with me. Did you actually plan on not doing that?" I leaned forward to grab my blanket and brought it over my legs, draping a bit across Daryl's as well.

"Nah. Ya wanna lay down?" he asked.

"Nah," I said. I nuzzled my head into his shoulder a little further, "unless you do. I'm comfortable right here."

Taglist: @raddydaddydude

[davekat-sucks]

Im not a poc, or at least if im mixed im white passing so maybe i dont get an opinion on this

But i dont get why people want so badly the trolls who would be out to be racist charactictures of poc, to be poc? Like just because they are stereotypes and shit, it comes off like theyve never interacted with actual poc in their life?

For every "poc druggie" gamzee type ive met, ive met three more who were white or white passing.

Same for like eridan, feferi, meenah, etc. Etc. They all remind me of white people ive met irl over any poc i met. Ive met a lot of meenahs, eridans, feferis, during my life- all white. Most of the time black people ive met or poc on general just break all those molds, while white people just fill the niche? If that make sense? Like theyre stereotypes for a reason, more often than not theyre not accurate, their slander or even just projection.

Hell feferi comes across as one of those white girl who have white girl savoir complexes but still fuck up and fail and secretly hate all the responsibility theyve put on themselves trying to be "perfect ally".

Also Hs^2 attempt to retcon the symbolic black silhouette used for older/adult trolls to make that come across as mythologically mysterious and stuff that were being accused of being black face back in the day that are now just no actually trolls skin just gets darker with age, as if thats not arguably worse? Its a retcon to "unproblematic-ify" the problems of HS proper, but in its attempt to do so.. is worse somehow???

Like as a hole, the fandoms attempt to retcon and fix fhe racism...feels like its just being actually racist. Like go ahead and read into and pick apart Hussi's writing decesions all you want, but like. Even in well meaning jest, i feel like they fail, so terribly hard.

Homestuck trolls are trolls. Not humans. Yes part of the joke is their culture largely is earth but trollified. But i think in their rightousness to do better then the yeah, admittedly shitty aged comic we all love, theyve done it and themselves dirty. Theyve took the joke too far, and i dont think they are even in on the joke at all.

Adult trolls being only shadow black silhouettes were suppose to mirror the human Guardians as they are all white. Part of it was for the mysterious theme, as said. But likely have became an actual thing because of The Condesce being the only living adult troll at the time, who still appeared as a black silhouette even up to her death. She could have possibly stayed that way as a familiarity of kids vs adults and how she is intimidating and the final boss, but it's a thing now that trolls having darker skin as they age is canon. Hey, the fandom wants dark skin on trolls so they can project POC on it. They got their wish. I think when people try to make trolls or humans as 'accurate' as possible for being POC, it soon becomes more of a stereotype than actual diversity and representation. They deny about it and some praise that the over-exaggeration of traits is good representation. The characters become more like someone's OC than the actual characters they were from. Drawing on-model is a sin in the Western fandom. Some also don't realize some implications considering what happens to certain characters to a series. Like if someone headcanons that Eridan was trans, people forget that he was killed by Kanaya. Does that mean Kanaya was in the right for killing a trans person then? What about Vriska being black and Aradia as Asian? Her killing an Asian person is now okay? It's why we got shit like people being upset that Gamzee and Meenah are supposedly black stereotypes.

It's sad that nobody can accept fantasy or sci-creatures as they are. It's why we got shot like orcs in DND now being GOOD people when they were just monsters. Everything has to be connected or related to human standards. They can never have their own customs, cultures, or beliefs.

[mdhwrites]

Your Grom Factory post is so right!! I felt like the last parts of it felt off but I didn't know why until I read your analysis. I wanted to like the ending and Ayzee's character so bad because Milan and Ayzee looked so cute together (even if they weren't all that interesting) but Ayzee's final depressing thoughts just ruined it for me :(

I also agree with A Little Hint of Blue being boring. I'm a Vinira shipper so I may be biased but they feel so bland in the comic. I know it's supposed to expand Skara's character but she also just comes off as annoying to me, and it's weird because she kinda reminds me of Anne (her dynamic with Boscha reminds me of Sashanne) but I like Anne and I don't care for Skara. Also the musical scene was cringe, I'm sorry, might be because it's in a comic but still. I did like how the comic kinda expanded on healing and bard magic, the fight was cool even though I think it was ooc for Viney to fall for Skara's trick by the end of it.

So like I said before, I don't want to harp too much on Mark's work without a point. Honestly, if you want to talk about Mark's work with me, my DMs are open, I've talked about him a fair bit on my Discord (in fact, it was voicing that I wasn't certain about posting the blog on Discord that got one of my followers to reassure me I wasn't just being an ass and shouldn't worry so much that led to it being posted) or you can even just ask me non-anonymously and I'll answer in private. I'm not trying to start anything.

With that said, you actually bring up a really good and interesting point in regards to Skara's character that has been digging at me for a WHILE and is useful as a more condensed version of the issues with both Hunter and Amity's arcs who share a lot of issues and I will bring up throughout this as well. A Hint of Blue is indeed meant to expand her character by saying she's a generally and genuinely good person but she has to put on a performance for others. That she is stuck between the person who she is deep down and who society wants her to be. This is effectively the same trick the show does for both Hunter and Amity so A: it is literally nothing new and B: it suffers from similar issues while its specific methodology is a NIGHTMARE to portray well. Worse yet, both of these issues render Skara's character somehow less than the blank canvas it already was.

See, and this is the big part of why I decided to respond, Skara's trick is to show someone with a pure survival response in this regard. She hasn't internalized ANYTHING that people push upon her by what her actions have shown. This means it is all an act rather than these outside forces having had a deeper personal impact. Hunter and Amity, again, suffer similar issues but they at least pay some lip service to the idea that they're not just twin personalities. There is some overlap. For Amity, it's when she is still somewhat cold after breaking the everlasting oath in Covention as even when shown kindness, she still keeps some of that distance. Or heck, just her entire first appearance honestly. For Hunter, it's the constant reinforcement of needing to please Belos. Moments that show that even when the external pressure isn't actively there, it is weighing on their mind, much like how Zuko clearly always had something stressing him out, even when all was quiet. It's part of why how easily Amity throws off her shackles, and how Hunter doesn't actually refute the morality he's clearly been taught, make their arcs and characters weaker because it implies that these pressures never actually got in.

And unfortunately for Mark, he can't seem to decide which version he has and canon supports neither option. In the very first page of the comic, Mark emphasizes A: how long Skara has been being a bully. Not just a bully but enjoying it as even her first act of monstrosity, kicking a sand castle down, is greeted with a smile while she is still very small. This implies some part of her is just cruel. But that's being actively contrasted by B: having her immediately willing to break the bitch code Boscha has in place by apologizing to Viney without any real hesitancy until Boscha speaks up, implying her instincts are to be nice. Mind you, in that first comic she does need to be pushed to destroy the sandcastle... But not to claim be wronged. She first, before the prompting, claims the playground as hers. She's not pushed to be pushy but to stand up for herself and claim what is hers. Not actually inherently unhealthy so long as you aren't a bitch about it honestly which, yes she was being.

And this sort of incongrueny gets better and worse as the story goes on, let alone with the framing of it. After all, the story is trying to frame it as her being a naturally good person who only acts up due to Boscha. This is why Viney, for no reason, is so anti-Boscha. She is meant to be the second world that Skara is being pulled between. When written REALLY POORLY, this is how you get Skara stating Boscha isn't that bad and actually cares in her own way one comic and then literally two comics later, Boscha destroys Skara's chance at romance while mimicking Dio (I know it's Jojos in general but like... Why Jojos there at all?). It's superficial to put it extremely mildly.

As a note, this would actually be the heart of the sort of stuff I would talk about, characters making choices because they fit the tropes of the story, if I decided to talk about the Hallmarks (pun intended) of boring romances. Forced character writing with zero motivation or real flavor is the normal core to that problem.

And well... When your motivations as a character are "I inherently have a heart of gold!" versus "I am the puppet of the most evil fourteen year old on my continent"... You get a really boring lamp that keeps getting passed around. It's meant to expand on Skara's personality but instead it reduces it to NOTHING. Or, it's that her personality is ENTIRELY dependent on whoever she is around and the nice version is the version that Viney gets because she believes Viney will kick her ass otherwise as that is actually the reason the first apology comes out. Or appears to with how worried Skara immediately becomes while Viney rolls up her sleeves.

And since you brought it up and they're PERFECT FOR THIS, let's contrast this with Sasha and Anne. They actually are this sort of dynamic after all. Sasha forces Anne to do things outside of her comfort zone through using their friendship and this is bad for Anne but Anne does it because what Sasha gives her is fun, it's exciting and it's from someone who at least claims to genuinely care about her. Even at her meanest, Sasha is wanting to spend time and make Anne's life better. It's part of why her character is so great. Skara gets lip service in the first comic about liking being on the top of the food chain but all her actions are independent and even the final panel goes out of its way to show Boscha leaving Skara behind, showing the actual gulf in their relationship. It's lip service that Skara will spend literally the ENTIRE rest of the comic saying she hates. She doesn't actually ever act like she ever gets anything out of this.

Then we have the second world pulling Anne: The Plantars. Suddenly, she is shown that you can be loved and cared for by other people without having to do morally dubious things... And she chaffs at it because it does mean more complicated relationships. Hop Pop and her don't understand each other. Polly isn't the gal pal she wants even though she is a gal and a pal. Even Sprig still chafes at her her habits and the like while Sasha may have more cleverly gotten to stop anything she didn't like. This is part of why Anne isn't all that great to the Plantars early on. She doesn't want the work that goes into a real relationship. She'd rather be subservient and have it be simple. It's only through seeing just how much better these people are, and how it feels to have her own autonomy, that she breaks her chains and discards Sasha, at least for a while until they're both in healthier places. As a note, THIS is why S1 of Amphibia is the way it is because this shit takes TIME, let alone while also using an entire town to reinforce these lessons.

Skara meanwhile just... likes the other world. That's really it. She just gravitates towards being nice and real connections, just like Hunter and just like Amity. As always is stated: We're TOLD that she likes being on top but why? It's never even elaborated on with words, let alone shown to us but also yes, this would have extended the arcs overall to show this. Like I said, Amphibia spends a lot of time on groundwork for a reason. Arguably more than it needed to but it still needed a large amount of time to make the payoff and journey as satisfying as it is.. Even TOH understood this with Amity as they pretend for a little longer than a single line that she has reasons to want to be on top until she just drops it all once no one is looking. -_- This attempt to make it less blatant though is part of why Amity dominates a THIRD of the entire series.

And honestly, between this and the enemies to lovers trope from the base show (and actually this too I guess if Viney didn't seem to have some deep seated hate for Boscha that we just haven't been told about yet) I really am getting tired of people seeming to think romance really is a simplistic genre. In fanworks, you get a lot of quick romances, yes, but that's fine. They're normally not trying to claim to be doing an arc or the like with it. They're just bringing two characters they like together. However, romance is an entire GENRE for a reason. You can tell whole stories just around a romance with no other elements because just two people interacting and figuring out deepening feelings is one of the most complex elements for a writer to figure out, regardless of which complex emotion you're choosing. If you don't actually figure that out though, romance tends to be the genre where characters show their narrative purpose fastest. Where you feel the hand of the author forcing the characters together the most. It's why the romantic subplot is such a despised narrative trope. It's why Amity descending into being a love interest is so sharp because capital L LU- LOVE is all she's about now.

And that is the case here too. Skara is all about Viney... Because this is a romance. That is a not deep character, that is a sexy lamp that happens to sing.

======+++++======

I didn't even hint to giving the two moments to bond and have real chemistry instead of just lecturing at each other. *screams* GEE, the romance writer has opinions on romance!? Never would have guessed. I won't even say I'm perfect at it, I'm definitely still improving myself, but it is technically my genre, even back when I was writing harem erotica.

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[decepti-thots]

do you have any thoughts on autocracy the miniseries?

Autocracy is kind of a fascinating blip to me. One thing I think gets overlooked in its existence is how it's an early attempt to do "digital first" in the 2010s: once upon a time, that wasn't just novel, it was a possible future for comics. (In its way, it half resembles the format Roberts originally pitched a bunch of his ideas in!)

It's a piece of canon that accidentally has interesting implications for things that come later. I wrote some thoughts on its specific, accidental influence on phase two Rodimus here (and why I love that element). On its own merits, it's utterly sterile, IMO: uninteresting thematically, terrible visually, no interest in the surrounding canon (bc it's basically an attempt to overwrite IDW canon to do a bland G1-inspired story that pointedly ignores all interesting work IDW did up to that point), and yet despite all that its underlying ideas echo inexorably. Its refusal to engage with what makes IDW1 interesting accidentally helps make IDW1 extra interesting. It is not a good comic. It has awful dialogue, terrible visual storytelling, no interest in making something once derided into fodder for good comics like both really early phase two titles. Frankly, it sucks absolute ass. The rest of the trilogy (including Autocracy, Monstrosity and Primacy) is even worse. But. But! Autocracy's specific unspoken influence on Rodimus in later stuff is undeniable; Roberts called out its influence in at least one panel when asked about Rodimus' relationship to bad coping mechanisms in early MTMTE. Its incongruence is somehow weirdly compelling, honestly. When you choose to deliberately read against the grain, it becomes interesting again. The version of IDW canon where Rodimus and Megatron met this way and Megatron fucked it for these specific reasons is, genuinely, fascinating.

Autocracy sucks. But it is inextricable from the IDW stuff that is good in a way that is not just canon based but formally inextricable from later ideas of characters like Rodimus, and for that reason alone I find it VERY interesting.

[sokkastyles]

The comics are shit so don’t ever try to mention them to me again, also if there was somehow a “canon” story about about Aang murdering people with a Glock, you’d probably defend it with your life

I’m pretty sure Iroh just grabbed a doll from a store he burned down and then gave it to Azula because he wanted her to act like a “proper woman”, both of his gifts were wrong to give, thank god Zuko gave it back to a rightful owner, Azula was an 8 year old with fire in her blood, and it’s not like Zuko or Ursa or Iroh (who was busy trying to commit genocide) really cared all that much, people have been calling other people fat for ages, it’s only you woke snowflakes that are afraid of it, and Azula called him fat 6 years after the gift 

This is Iroh’s face when Azula shows up, before she even got to her point 

That is the face of utter contempt and hatred 

What would you do if you were surrounded by 6 dangerous people? You don’t understand what “war” and “battle” mean

The worst things that Iroh says about Ozai to Zuko is that he isn’t very understanding and that he doesn’t tend to regret his actions. He also encouraged Zuko to keep trying to capture the Avatar, so he can go home to his abusive father, while also am saying that getting captured by Azula is a fate worse than death, and that she’s mentally insane 

Iroh and The White Lotus conquering Ba Sing Se does not change anything in the finale, you can cut it out and nothing changes, Ba Sing Se could have been taken back on any other day before the comet, Iroh should have changed his plans to help with the defeating the airships which would kill everyone (or whatever Ozai’s stupid plan was) but instead he sends 3 children (only 1 of whom could bend) to do it and they almost fucking die, he wants to conquer Ba Sing Se because he it was his “Destiny since birth”, and also because he wants to relax in his tea shop instead of helping the world, and he wants to use the comet to cause more destruction, achieving his goal in a way before he “changed” and its not like the city’s suffering more than when Long Feng controlled it.

Leaving your traumatized 16 year old nephew to become the ruler of a county, while also going to another continent to rest in a tea shop in a city you tried to burn down, is the definition of abandonment, Iroh easily could have opened the tea shop in The Fire Nation

Azula is far from selfish, she cares deeply about Ozai, Zuko, Ty Lee, Mai, and Ursa, and she is a dedicated patriot who does things all in name of The Fire Nation 

I think Ursa SHOULD help Azula, AFTER she rejects Fire imperialism and admits she wasn’t the best parent, I think Ursa had good intentions, but was too harsh on Azula. 

That's all this is, just the completely ridiculous ramblings of someone who overidentifies with a violent bully because it feeds your own white woman Karen victim complex.

Again, this is why the Zuko fandom can't have nice things, and that I can’t ignore your incorrect opinions. 

Or you could just get out of my inbox, you troglodyte. I didn't read past the first sentence, but it's funny how the comics don't exist unless you want to (badly) try to use them to make a (nonexistent) point.

Iroh's face in that screenshot is my face right now. Because bullies who show up to harass others deserve contempt. Keep proving that this is what you and your ilk deserve, because I don't have as much patience as Iroh does.

[linisiane]

I’m kind of annoyed at the big posts about Zepotha rn. You guys are gatekeepers and don’t even understand what you’re gatekeeping! Cohesion this and lack of plot that. “Skill issue” “Copycat!—” NO. We must go deeper.

Goncharov was a love letter to tumblr fandom culture. An analysis of the way we collectively talk queer themes into existence.

Tumblr blogs dedicated to queer ships. Intricate metas on the queer themes of a work. Screenshot redraws of romantic moments. Comics that are incredibly horny but still somehow capture the original themes. Prompt fills of what we imagine the story could’ve been had there been another (gayer) way.

So many of these types of posts on tumblr are considered reaches or “making things up” by the greater world. But they are analyses made meaningful through this shared sense of community, this shared experience of queerness in a society that doesn’t think of us or our themes as real. Goncharov being “made up” is a celebration of the way we come together to make the queer themes we want to see in the world, especially the ones the world doesn’t think exists. A way to say, “Of course we’re ‘mAkiNg tHiNgS uP,’ Goncharov is made up,” like it’s some sort of metaphor made literal.

Yes, the Google docs and the Martin Scorsese movie framework are a huge part of what made Goncharov work, but what spread excitement are the Goncharov posts just like the ones I listed above. Goncharov isn’t just what we imagine this fake movie to be, but also the fandom/queer culture we imagined surrounded it, and I’d argue that this culture is just as much of a framework for Goncharov as the Martin Scorsese thing was. Why else have non-canonical gay ships in the movie we made up?

TikTok’s problem is that it doesn’t have the original passion and love for queer analysis to gel it the way Goncharov did. Or really anything to gel it beyond cheap clout chasing. No depth, only virality.

It’s like a cute in joke being turned into loveless corporate marketing. Taking something from its original context to prey upon it, ruining what was good about it in the first place. It feels like when corporations tried to recreate Barbenheimer, except it’s someone trying to create a trend on TikTok to market their song, only for the trend to burn out quickly because everybody’s treating it like a joke instead of committing. By its structure (the reblog system) Tumblr is a place of collaboration and building upon what’s come before. TikTok, on the other hand, favors a personalized algorithm pushing viral content over content creators. It’s about reaching the top of a trend or a sound before it dies off in two weeks.

It just rubs me the wrong way how some people act like Zepotha’s crime is being a shitty copy of Goncharov. This is the Fanfiction website. We love amateurism and “originality” means nothing to us. We should be happy to celebrate the people on there making genuine attempts at TikTok edits of the characters or those TikTok green screen filter reviews of the movie or ‘dressing like Zepotha characters’ vids instead of denigrating Zepotha for being too derivative. There are genuine tiktoks out there that do a great job of committing to the bit and crystallizing what fandom formats on TikTok look like, which is exactly what the Goncharov screenshot redraws, horny comics, and queer metas were on Tumblr.

Like, there’s so much to rag against Zepotha—the inauthenticity, the clout-chasing, the way TikTok’s virality algorithm makes art worse, the lack of in-universe TikToks calling out the Zepotha fans for being racist (I’d kill for that TikTok skit!)—that roasting the amateur execution of excited teens is missing the forest for the trees.

[dilfdoctordoom]

It’s really frustrating how Gamora wasn’t given proper nuance in the first two movies because then vol 3 might’ve been less frustrating. If her issues had been explored in depth (in vol 2 especially) her being feral for 90% of the film would’ve been interesting enough on its own, but because the first two films focus so heavily on Quill and the third on Rocket we don’t get enough time with either version of Gamora to see what makes her tick.

Ooooh boy I've got a lot to say on this.

The personality that Gamora has in Vol 3 is one that we have seen before... in the deleted scenes of Vol 1. Since those never made it to the final cut, the majority haven't seen them, don't know they exist, and I wouldn't count them as canon.

It makes her Vol 3 personality jarring, to say the least, which is an in issue. Vol 3 Gamora is the first time MCU Gamora has been anything really like her comic counterpart. Gamora's... very sharp, very volatile and doesn't tend to be the nicest person in the room. Gamora in Vol 1 & 2 was put into the "team mom" role which really isn't a place she should ever hold. At best, it should be like Infinity Watch, where she just thinks she holds it because she's decided she's the most responsible when in reality. she's fucking crazy.

Vol 3 also doesn't fit the established beat of the past two films; Peter is our clear protagonist, Rocket is the secret protagonist, and Gamora is the female protagonist. She gets things moving. It's her thoughts, her wants, that ultimately drive the films forward. She wants to save Xandar, she wants to escape Thanos, and it's those two things that push the first film forward. It's her want for familial connection (that she finds with Nebula eventually) that leads her to encourage Peter to go with Ego; if she hadn't been looking for that herself, I doubt she would've ever told him to go.

It also drops the sister dynamic between Gamora and Nebula, literally the one thread that links the Guardians appearances consistently through Vol 1 right over to Endgame. It's the beating heart of it all and shown time and time again to be important and then.... nothing. Vol 3 doesn't dare address that they've both lost the only sister they've known and what stands before them is essentially a stranger. It doesn't address that both of them know there's a version of them that is dead and has lost their future (and they both know that the future that version of them lost was a GOOD one). There's so much to work with, and it never gets picked up on at all.

Gamora's the moral center of the team, it's beating heart. She's always been the driving force of the plot, even in Infinity War, and she's central to most of the Guardians appearances in Endgame.

In Vol 3, she's there, I guess.

And even back then, even when she's so important to the films... like all women in the GOTG franchise, she's not nearly as delved into as the men. Don't get me wrong, she's a hell of a step up from Mantis, but... it's not as much as it should be.

It's an issue that feels especially because, as much as I adore Rocket & how well done his side of things was, Volume 3 needed to be Gamora's movie.

How Infinity War left her was bad. How Endgame left her was also bad. How Volume 3 chose to present her was worse.

This movie needed to have at least some focus on fixing what went wrong but we somehow ended up with Cosmo & Kraglin getting more development & Yondu getting better treatment than dead Gamora.

I get that Rocket is Gunn's favorite and Gamora is not, but honestly? Not a good enough excuse.

A woman of color got violently fridged to make her abuser more sympathetic. Something needed to be done to fix that and that was sacrificed to... further a raccoon's story & downplay the abuse of two major women (Gamora&Nebula) in this franchise. I don't care how much Gunn loves Rocket, he should've done every damn woman in the franchise better.

[artistcaptainbendy]

I see that you have alot of Captain Underpants aus, so if you don't mind, can you tell me about all of them and the differences between them and canon.

Hey sorry for taking a while to reply.

I can't really remember everything AU I made but I'll try my best.

Let's start with what I think was the first one, smartypants Au. It's basically what happens when instead of the boys making krupp, the captain, it was Melvin. Of course the biggest difference here is that krupp is the silly one and the captain is the smart one. Melvin was tried of how dumb krupp was and so taught him a lot of info to try and make him smart (by editing the boys comics), when that didn't work he hypothesis him and made him captain smartypants. Now at first I was going to have SP!Krupp's chaotic nature just be something he does, but later on I decided to have it be his part cosmic chaos demon because it sounds funny, so now he has a reason to be chaotic he needs it to live. Now I believe almost everything I've drawn is technically Canon, sp can travel to other Aus and interact with other krupps so stuff like that happens.

Now let's go to Bendypants au. Just what happens when I take a horror game and blend it with the CU universe. George and Harold being joey and Henry, Melvin is sammy, krupp is boris, edith is Alice, of the star of the show himself! Captain underpants is bendy. Now some relationships I had to change for the characters but the story is basically the same. Now what I say isn't Canon is of course any of the funny side things I draw like them celebrating holidays together or when they all went to space or anything that happens with Beetlejuice. Its more of its own side au where it's the same characters but different vibes. AU BP is different from persona BP with is me even if I use some of the same story beats. Now I'm realizing I've drawn more things for the silly side au then the official one hahaha.

Side timeline au time. Criminal SP krupp, if what happened to sp in high school made him a worse person instead of better and he became a Criminal. He uses his chaotic powers to steal and rob places, one day after saving two teens, they wanted to join him. At first he wanted nothing to do with them but after a while he finally let them be his crew. Now I haven't drawn much for this one but most of it is Canon. Even the silly.

Imaginary friend AU. Again not much drawn for this one so all is Canon. But it's what if the OG, PP, and SP captains were Imaginary friends to their krupps who are kids. I still have no explanation as to how there are three krupps but eh.

Sp jekyll and hyde AU. Same story as the play version but with some changes, so I guess not that similar. But instead of murder it's pranks, and smarty doesn't cheat on edith. George and Harold are two orphans who hyde SP took and smarty decided to adopt. Now I'm not sure what to have not Canon so that's up in the air.

Vampire SP. Gosh there are lot of sp krupps. Ok it's sp but Vampire and smarty is his twin brother who somehow is a werewolf. Sp doesn't want to drink blood but has to so he doesn't go crazy, so his former caretaker works at a blood bank and sneaks him some "food". He had a girlfriend 100s of years ago and now has found a woman who looks a lot like her, this being Edtih. Hmm everything Canon, even when helped fight Beetlejuice.

And lastly (because I might of forgotten the other aus I might have) is the lumberjack Au! Krupp is a lumberjack......that is all (jk). His a lumberjack that lives in the woods in a small cabin, people thought he was some odd creature till the boys found him and saw he was just a lumberjack who might have been in the woods for too long. They befriend him and now once in while hang out with him. Now this more of a cozy au nothing too crazy happens in it, there might be sometimes when it does, like when krupp upsets the sprite of the woods, but hey who doesn't do that. Not much art for it yet but mostly all Canon, and the side horror thing with him as the protagonist is separated. But I'll leave you with a fun fact.....in this universe lumberjack krupp's parents are actually the smartest people in the world, like world class scientists levels, and he doesn't like talking about them and hopes no one realizes his their son.

What? I can't make a krupp who doesn't have issues it's impossible! Make a character who's just happy with life and has no worries ? Never!

[roobylavender]

i think a lot of people also just kind of hate jason because from a certain perspective it looks like he ruined a lot of other characterisations. roy and kory being the big ones but a lot of people were happy with the 90s thing and jason came back around the time the writing changed, and also there's the fact that a lot of people who don't actually read comics are "jason" fans so people probably push back against that without realising it (or on purpose)

someone somewhere else said something along the lines of "a lot of people probably wouldn't actually care about jason, but the weird non canon fans of him inspire hatred" and that holds true i think

there is also the fact that he's suddenly written on good terms with everyone without the writers putting the work in but they do that with other relationships too, jason's in a weird position because it feels like they've done that with everyone he knows

also (this is the previous anon, i just saw the battle for the cowl thing), i think part of people wanting to acknowledge him shooting damian in battle for the cowl is again about him being portrayed by some fanon as this big protector everyone in crime alley loves children kiss his feet etc (i'm exaggerating but it is annoying especially when those stories act like no one else is doing that or that taking care of people is somehow the opposite of what bruce does and also they do not seem to know anything even about jason let alone anyone else) sorry this is the same anon again, my main point is basically that people who don't read canon tend to make up things for jason to be sad about when there's actual material in canon if you read it and people who want his siblings to outright hate him (i don't think they have that much feeling towards each other any of them) or him to have some of the worse stuff he's been shown as in canon are basically pushing against it with hey look he's an asshole in canon here and here which fair enough but there are definitely parts that are out of character for him

absolutely! it's really a shame how haphazard his trajectory is because as you said it makes it very easy for fanon to take over and try to fill in "gaps" that aren't actually necessary to fill in order to combat the egregious character assassination in canon. and to think all of this is possible because he isn't even prioritized as his own character but is held eternally hostage to the bat family and what he has to mean to its members..

[proxissima]

atla

@number1villainstan @thispatternismine

I hear you guys (you all sent the ask within an hour) 😂

Send me a fandom and I’ll tell you my:

-blorbo (favorite character, character I think about the most):

Well... As of now, Ozai is still unchallenged as the one character that I've tagged the most on my blog, for a reason 😎

-scrunkly (my “baby”, character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is So Shaped):

...Toph, kinda.

-scrimblo bimblo (underrated/underappreciated fave):

Aang...SOMEHOW

-glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won’t shut up about it for a week):

Azulon; he's basically got one singular scene in the entire show where he's even alive (and the exact same is true for the comics), and he does nothing but dunk on Ozai & his family in it. Regardless of that, he's casting a shadow on the royal family by his deeds in the past. It's fascinating how much of the plot he was driving forward despite being long dead.

-poor little meow meow (“problematic”/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave):

See blorbo. Zhao, too. 99% of the fandom seem to think that being struck down by fate/god itself counts as incompetence, somehow. (Applies to both)

-horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason):

Ozai >:))

-eeby deeby (character I would send to superhell):

Bye Kuvira. Ugh.... uh.... Iroh? Every depiction of him post-ATLA? Certainly the one fanon created and that has wormed its way into his canon portrayal, to make matters worse (see Legacy in the Fire Nation and that one mini-comic where he's thinking about dating that EK woman). It's saying something when his characterisation in the OG series, which was already a bit over the place, where he was a sexual harasser, remains to this day the best one we've got and arguably will ever get of him.

[so-i-grudgingly-joined-this-site]

I posted 614 times in 2022

That's 472 more posts than 2021!

42 posts created (7%)

572 posts reblogged (93%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@serenityspiral

@roguelov

@secretstudentdragonblog

@souryogurt64

@ardwynna

I tagged 606 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

#the sandman - 104 posts

#dream of the endless - 70 posts

#art - 56 posts

#fanart - 52 posts

#the beatles - 46 posts

#the sandman netflix - 45 posts

#humor - 36 posts

#cats - 29 posts

#original post - 29 posts

#funny - 26 posts

Longest Tag: 135 characters

#what's worse is i fear lot of bandom still defends him not just bc of the music but because he's one of the few bandom people to be out

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

There's one particular implication of the ending of The Sandman books that I really don't like... but at the same time the books are so literary and dense that it's possible I just don't "get it" and am wildly misinterpreting something so I just 🤷🏻‍♀️

8 notes - Posted December 7, 2022

#4

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Sandman (Comics), The Sandman (TV 2022) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Death of the Endless Additional Tags: Crack, Crack Fic, Comedy, Explanations, Mundane Explanations, allergies suck, Humor Summary:

Many have commented on the Prince of Stories’ striking eyes, but few besides his sister know the truth…

***

@serenityspiral @duckland @roguelov I’ve posted my first completed Sandman fic!  Not smut, given that I currently have an injured hand and I wasn’t really up to typing out the end to one of those yet!  May as well post a gen humor short fic in the meantime haha

9 notes - Posted December 5, 2022

#3

Well, I made another playlist. The title is JUST FOR THE MEME I SWEAR (or do I?)

Fun fact, the, uh, description from track 6 is pretty much literal canon for Dream in the comics. Just ask Calliope. Or Nada.

tagging @serenityspiral because you might appreciate this

11 notes - Posted December 6, 2022

#2

Idk who needs to see this, but this is the best summary of NFTs and Crypto that I’ve yet seen.  What it is, how it works, its history... and the massive, terrifying problems with it.  Helpfully there’s also timestamps so that you don’t have to watch one whole feature-length video in one sitting!

Oh, and even if you aren’t interested in NFTs, this has one of the best explanations of the 2008 financial crash ever.

Somehow, the whole “burning down the rainforest” terrible environmental effects are far from the most horrifying thing about crypto.  Shit’s straight-up dystopian.

@serenityspiral if you haven’t seen this already, you might enjoy it

26 notes - Posted January 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Do you ever want to write fanfic, and then look at a fandom and go "oh man I am NOT good enough to write smut for them"? Like, the level of literary merit and hotness is just too far out of your league where you know your meager efforts won't do any good? That's where I am right now

34 notes - Posted November 26, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[spongebobafettywap]

i think Spurrier got away with most of the stuff he made nightcrawler do and broke about his lore because fans take his interviews at face value and are the kind that would get super bad marks in reading comprehension...

why is no one annoyed that Nightcrawler basically made a religion and an inquisition and also became a cult leader ? Cuz Spurrier says it ain't a religion, ain't an inquisition and nightcrawler is still catholic... Even tho everything he writes about those things and kurt contradicts his own statement

why is no one outraged that he reduced margali szardos to a terrible Romani stereotype down to her being part of kidnapping scheme a d taking a child from a parent who wanted it ? Cuz Spurrier didn't explicitly describe the situation with margali as a kidnapping even tho the canon he established has it now that mystique left baby kurt at a specific spot in a mob infested forest to go back to him right after (which she stated out loud) and margali was right around the corner to take him from her in the five minutes she was gone and back... We call that a kidnapping where I come from. The kidnapping allegations only get worse because Claremont had mystique say that even if her and destiny wanted to get kurt back "margali would have hidden you away from us"... Thanks Chris. Thanks a lot, you sellout

lmao anon with the shade on point.

Yeah its ridiculous and the excuses Spurrier makes are like.. waht cult leaders literally say lmao. Well for one comic fans are in general quite apathetic towards Romani people, I've had to explain numerous times to these people about how Romani people are a South Asian diaspora, and how they're often whitewashed in media but usually the ones who insist Romani characters are white due to their first appearance I ask them about any other south asian characters from that time period depicted with brown skin in comics and then they shut up because they can't come back with anything. Wow almost like comics have a history of whitewashing and poorly portraying non white people whou would have thought!

Honestly what is it with Marvel and thinking "wow these old stereotypes of Romani people are EXACTLY what we need for the stories we make in the 21st century" its coming to a point where SOMEHOW they make more racist stories about romani people now thatn they did in the 20th century. Just how do you manage that?

there you go everyone the amazingly progressive Claremont not only is he into incest between adoptive family members he also likes to paint a Romani woman as "hiding children away from their parents" but hey he said he planned to have Rogue as black so he MUST be progressive right? never mind he apparently never fought for Rogue and Dazzler to be black lol