#ff: give me a second chance

[novaursa]

Omg!!! I saw that you're taking requests soo.. I'd like to ask for one since your writing is incredible🫶

Just before I start, if you're uncomfortable with the whole thing it's alright if you don't write anything at all...

Alright, getting started, my request would be Rhaenyra [and team black] x daughter Mc [all platonic, of course]

Rating would be 16+/18+ depending on how graphic you write it, I guess

Now the idea is that the Mc is Rhaes second child with laenor [Cough*Harwin*cough], and the whole scenario starts with her birth and childhood and how she's everyone's sweetheart. However, she has no dragon and is kind of the opposite of Aemond.

While he tries to claim a dragon every chance he gets and has a temperament (as we know him from the show), she is reserved, sweet and waits, being sure that her dragon WILL come to her.

Now the main plot is that at like 9-12 or something, she lets herself get pressured (maybe during the events of driftmark, idk) and tries to claim a dragon like aemond does. However, parallel to him claiming vhagar, she too tries to claim a dragon and legit, tragically dies.

(You can make up a dragon or use one of the unclaimed ones idk, you'll probably find a great solution)

Now, while she was patient and calm, the need for a dragon killed her, and while aemond was impatient and kinda bratty, he actually claimed one.

Nowwww I NEED rhaes [and the fams] reaction. Like, I love the fluff you write, but I just CRAVE GoT tragedy like give me some mothers rage where her daughters tragic, dramatic death is just another kick-start point for the dance.

Now like I said, if you're uncomfy I'm not mad it's a kinda dark(?) request

Hope you have a great day/night 🫶

Unclaimed

Requests are closed!

- Summary: Just like Aemond you didn't have a dragon. And the gods deemed you unworthy once you decided to claim one.

- Paring: daughter!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen (mother) - platonic

- Note: Let's pretend Vermithor is resting at Driftmark.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

Your birth was greeted with joy, the sound of the sea crashing against the shores of Dragonstone mirroring the heartbeats of those who welcomed you into the world. Rhaenyra held you close, her second-born child, her daughter, and she whispered promises of love and protection. Laenor stood by her side, his hand resting on your small form, claiming you as his own with the same affection he showed to Jace. But those who looked closely could see the same strong features you shared with your brother, your true father’s blood running through your veins.

As you grew, it became clear that you were everyone's sweetheart. From the moment you could toddle through the halls of Dragonstone, you had a calming presence, your gentle smiles and soft words winning over even the hardest hearts. Rhaenyra would watch you with pride, her heart swelling as you blossomed into a child who was both loved and loving. You had a quietness about you, one that set you apart from the fiery temperament of others in your family.

But unlike your brothers and the other children of your family, there was one thing missing from your life: a dragon. Jace had claimed Vermax, and Luke had bonded with Arrax. Even Joffrey, still young, had a dragon. But you? You were without one, though it never seemed to bother you as it did others. While Aemond, your younger uncle, threw tantrums and chased after dragons at every chance, you simply waited. You were patient, certain that your dragon would come to you when the time was right.

Even in the presence of the mighty creatures, you remained composed, unafraid but unwilling to rush into something that did not feel natural. Aemond would mock you for it, the contrast between his fiery ambition and your quiet certainty driving him to scorn. "Dragonless, yet you call yourself a Velaryon?" he’d sneer, but his words never stung as he intended. You only smiled softly, your calm demeanor never wavering.

“Your dragon will find you when it’s time,” your mother would say, brushing your hair gently as you sat at her feet. Her voice was a balm, a reminder that there was no need for haste. “Just as did many of our blood.”

It was a comfort you took to heart. While others saw dragonless children as lesser, as incomplete, you knew better. You had no desire to force a bond that wasn’t ready, no need to prove yourself by claiming a creature you had yet to meet. You loved watching the dragons, feeling the wind from their wings and the heat from their breaths, but you felt no jealousy, no desperation. Unlike Aemond, who scoured the skies and caverns of Dragonstone, you sat quietly, waiting.

And you waited with patience, with faith, a smile always ready for those around you. In the training yard, you were quick to offer encouragement to Jace and Luke as they sparred. At the dinner table, your laughter was a light melody amidst the clamor of your boisterous family. Even the staff of Dragonstone adored you, their eyes lighting up whenever you entered a room, as if your presence alone made their day brighter.

It was this sweetness, this reserved nature, that endeared you to everyone. Your mother loved you fiercely, for in you, she saw a reflection of her own strength, a quiet, gentle kind that did not need to roar to be heard. The whispers of your true parentage never seemed to matter; in their eyes, you were a Velaryon, a Targaryen, and above all, you were loved. And you knew that your dragon, like the love surrounding you, would come in its own time.

The night at Driftmark was supposed to be a time of mourning, but it was anything but. The loss of Laena weighed heavily on everyone, but for you, it was more than just grief. It was a reminder of what you did not have — a dragon. Your quiet confidence that one would come to you had not faltered, but the whispers had grown louder. You could feel eyes on you, not just from the adults, but from your peers. Aemond's sneers had become sharper, more frequent, and the pressure began to mount.

"You’re nothing without a dragon,” Aemond had spat that night, eyes gleaming with something cruel. His words sank deeper than you let on, a seed of doubt planted in your heart. Everyone else had a dragon — your brothers, your cousins, even Aemond would find one. Why didn’t you?

Perhaps the others didn’t mean to push you, but they did. "You could try for one," Luke had said softly, concern in his voice. "We know you’re waiting, but… what if you don’t have to anymore?"

The words buzzed in your head as you stood there in the shadows of Driftmark, watching Aemond disappear into the darkness, his own ambitions clear. He would go after Vhagar. He was ready to take the risk.

You felt the pull of expectation, the weight of their eyes, and before you knew it, your feet were moving. You headed for the caves. You would claim one of your own, just as Aemond would. The one that had been calling to you in your dreams: Vermithor. The mighty bronze beast, once ridden by Jaehaerys I, lay asleep, unclaimed and waiting, just as you had waited all this time. But now, something had changed in you. The doubt, the pressure, the need to prove yourself clouded your mind.

You found him nestled deep within the cavern, his enormous body rising and falling with each breath. His golden eyes cracked open as you approached, and a shiver ran down your spine. But you couldn’t turn back. Not now. Not with Aemond out there trying to claim Vhagar. You had to do this. You had to be brave.

"Dohaeras," you whispered, stepping closer, your heart pounding in your chest. The old words felt foreign on your tongue, but you spoke them with as much conviction as you could muster. "Serve me, Vermithor."

For a moment, the air was still. The dragon's eyes bore into yours, unblinking, unreadable. Then came the rumble. A deep, threatening growl that shook the ground beneath your feet. Vermithor reared up, his wings unfurling with a deafening roar. Panic seized you, but you held your ground, refusing to flee, desperate to show you were worthy. You didn’t notice how close you’d stepped. You didn’t see the flick of his tail until it was too late.

One strike. One single, powerful blow sent you crashing against the stone walls of the cavern. Pain exploded through your body as your vision blurred, the world spinning around you. You tried to breathe, but the breath wouldn’t come, your chest burning as you crumpled to the ground.

The last thing you heard was the roar of the dragon, echoing in your ears as darkness claimed you.

Rhaenyra found out the next morning. At first, she thought it was a mistake — a cruel misunderstanding. How could her sweet daughter, her gentle girl, be gone? How could this have happened? But then, when the truth set in, when Daemon came to her with the grim look in his eyes and told her it was Vermithor, her world shattered.

Her grief came first — a raw, guttural wail that echoed through the halls of Driftmark. She held your lifeless body in her arms, her heart breaking over and over again as she looked at your still face, the sweetness, the softness that had been taken from her forever. Her daughter, her child, gone.

But then, the grief turned to rage.

“Aemond,” she hissed through her tears, her voice trembling with fury. “Aemond did this. Alicent’s sons did this. They pushed her… they made her believe she had to prove herself.”

She rose, her blood boiling, her eyes flashing with fury. “I will make them pay. They will all pay.”

Daemon stood by her side, his own anger simmering just beneath the surface, but it was Rhaenyra who burned with the intensity of a mother’s grief. The loss of you, her beloved daughter, had broken something inside her, and there would be no going back. No more peace, no more attempts at reconciliation. Alicent’s children had taken something from her that could never be replaced, and for that, they would face the full wrath of the dragon.

"They killed her," Rhaenyra whispered, her voice filled with venom. "Aemond will pay with fire and blood."

[alwaysanundertone]

Day 21: fingering | Blaise Zabini

smut

TW: fingering

Once again, you laid on your bed, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. It was way past midnight, and you couldn’t fall asleep.

You didn’t know why it kept happening, you were utterly exhausted during the day, but when you had the chance to rest, you simply couldn’t. For the past week you didn’t say anything about it to Blaise, not wanting to worry him, but now, laying in your prefect’s room, all alone, you realized you could really use a cuddle session.

You sighed, reaching for your phone. You would send him a message, if he didn’t reply then you’d have to make do with another sleepless night.

Hey baby, are you awake

After only a couple of seconds came his reply.

Now I am, something’s wrong?

You sighed, you hated asking for help.

I can’t really fall asleep

Give me five minutes

You sighed. You did feel a bit guilty, but most of all you felt relieved, knowing that if Blaise was there with you you would have felt much, much safer, resulting, hopefully, in at least a few hours of sleep.

After a while, you heard a knock on your door. You went to open it, and there stood your boyfriend in all of his glory. He immediately engulfed you in a strong hug, you already felt your body start to relax.

“Hey love” He whispered into your ear, kissing the skin below it, making you shiver.

“Hey baby”

He walked you to your bed, laying you down, his hands on your sleeping shorts.

“Wait, what”

He shushed you. “I know you haven’t had a proper sleep in a while, I’m going to try something, if you’ll let me?” You nodded, trusting him. He took off your shorts, slowly, awfully so.

“Baby, get on your knees for me, will you?” You nodded, bending down so that your chest was splayed on your bed, your butt up in the air. “Gorgeous, love” He nipped one of your ass cheeks, making you yelp, eliciting a chuckle from him. You felt his fingers tracing your core slowly over your panties, then he was pushing them to the side. “You’re so wet” He sighed, making you moan.

You loved when he made you squirm, you loved how he made you long for his touch, how he made you desire it. His index finger was entering you, slowly, you felt every knuckle grazing against your core, you swore you were in heaven. You mouth was open on a silent moan, your eyes closed shut, and he started moving his finger.

“You’re so good for me, darling, always trusting me, I love that about you, you know?”

You nodded silently; your head pressed down into the pillow. He added another finger, this time curling the both of them. You gasped, he smiled. “Yeah, I know baby. Let go for me love, relax” You tried, willing your muscles to go lax, willing your muscles to let go of the tension. You loved when the sex was soft, you loved how much care Blaise put in every touch, making you feel cherished.

He sped up the rhythm, suddenly you felt a knot forming in your belly. “Blaise” You moaned, the sound coming out muffled. “I love you, baby. You can let go, you can come”

You did, squeezing his digits impossibly, your back arching even more if possible. As you came down, you ass fell onto the bed, making your boyfriend chuckle. He kissed the back of your head. “You can fall asleep now, love, I’ll clean you and hug you. I won’t wake you up in the morning, though. You need to rest”

You nodded, already feeling the pent up exhaustion pulling you in a deep slumber, the last thing you heard was Blaise ‘I love you’s’ spoken directly into your ear as he cleaned you.

tags: @sxmnc @peterparkerspersonalplaything @riaaavm @iamawkwardandshy @eeviee4 @mysterialee @famouscrusadeluminary @el1smells @rishofkf @mooonyxoxo @happymaeday @yourfiendlyneighbourspiderman @whyshouldihaveanam3 @amazing-bobinsky @barnesandmetal @just-here-for-ff @remussbitch @sammyreid

[hannie-dul-set]

CRASH & BURN.

p — PARK SUNGHOON x gn! reader. g — fluff, humor. w — swearing, one absolutely horrendous dad joke, the secondhand embarrassment is even worse this time i'm not sorry at all, the rest of the en-kids are also losers. 1.3k words.

note — listen, who am i to deny the public from their needs and wants? i have no idea how rizzless hoon became such a hit, but ask and you shall receive. i'm sure this won't be the last you'll see of this loser. PART ONE. if you enjoy loser! hoon, you might also enjoy this other series of mine.

also tagging those who were asking for a part two hope u all don't mind! — @gyulune @jngwnlvs @snowysab @miercerise @karinasswifee @cerealdreamwriter @dinonuguaegi @tyongff-ff

for the past five days, you have been routinely returning to the skatepark at the same time without fail. this has obviously attracted questions from your friends considering the first time you tried out a longboard, you crashed and scraped and bruised your chin within seconds, but you can’t exactly tell them the truth about your endeavor— that you’ve been trying to catch a glimpse of mr. kuromi bandaid with the rollerblades again, and being left disappointed every single time.

he hasn’t shown up. not even once.

it’s day five, and there’s still no sign of him nor his lollipop. it’s day five, and you’re just about to give up until you spot from your peripheral a familiar group of boys that scared the shit out of you the other day— except this time, they aren’t staring at you like maniacs, and they seem to be one person less.

“are you fucking stupid?” you overhear as you hesitantly approach their circle, cautious steps because they’re still as intimidating as you can remember. they all look so serious, two individuals glaring at each other while the rest simply watch, both unconcerned and amused. “oh yeah? you really think you can beat me? wanna duke it out right now, dickwad?”

cold sweat breaks out and you freeze in your tracks, expecting them to spiral into a fist fight.

“my dragonite will sweep your fucking team, loser.”

“your dragonbitch doesn’t stand a chance against my tyranitar!”

nevermind. you really shouldn’t be so quick to judge them again.

you regain the bounce in your step and race up before they could metaphorically kick each other's asses.

“hi!” 

you flinch when the six heads suddenly snap towards you. your smile twitches, discomfort  lasering into your skin from the half a dozen set of narrowed eyes leering at you so intently and so intensely. “who are you?” the one previously bragging about his dragonite asks.

“dumbass.” another one smacks the former on the backside of his skull. “it’s shoelaces.”

the nickname sets a few lightbulbs off, and a pair breaks away from their violent staring at you to give each other knowing glances. “oh, shit!” this time it’s mr. tyranitar who exclaims. “right. the dude hoon absolutely decimated himself in front of. poor guy. he’s still going through the five stages of grief.”

hoon must mean sunghoon. you want to open your mouth and present your business about the missing individual, but it’s not so easy to butt in when they’re busy conversing amongst themselves.

“what do they want?” 

“how should i know? i’m not them?” 

“no fucking shit. but what do you think they want?”

“maybe it’s about hoon?”

“no way. that guy’s done for.”

“hey, don’t be too harsh on him! he’s grieving!”

“what if it’s because we‘re being too loud—”

“what if they’re here to have a pokemon batt—”

“you do realize they can hear you, right?” 

light-haired guy is right. you can very much hear them, and they’ve all finally quieted down, slowly turning their heads to you once more but with a dampened intensity this time. they’re waiting for you to speak. you can’t believe you thought they were scary. you can’t believe you were intimidated by a group of nerds.

“sorry for the intrusion,” you smile, pressing your palms together. “i noticed one of your friends hasn’t been coming around lately. is he okay?”

a cough. a nudge. a silent conversation between the six pairs of eyes. “he’s been sick these past few days,” dragonite owner finally says. “sickeningly unbearab— ow!” 

your smile disappears. “oh no.” he’s sick? he already didn’t seem that strong when you met him the other day, collapsing into the ground and all.

“i think you can help him get better— ouch! jungwon, what the fuck?” one of them gets hit again. you’re sure it’s been the same guy hitting the rest of them since earlier.

“why are you asking about him?”

the nicest looking one squeezes out of their group while asking his earnest question, fishing out the answer from you with bright, curious eyes. “ah,” you sound out. “i just wanted to tell him that i also think his shoelaces are really cool.”

they stare at you, then stare at each other. and then someone spews out, “is that a new pick-up line, or some shit?” before getting hit again, and the light-haired guy comes forward to block the squabble happening behind him, and to tell you that they’ll be dragging their friend tomorrow at the same time (isn’t he supposed to be sick?) so you can compliment his shoelaces in person(?), and that they are looking forward to welcoming you to their family (whatever the fuck that means).

as promised, they do drag the sick man into the skatepark— literally dragging him because the guy who introduced himself yesterday as jake is pulling him forward by the sleeve while jungwon pushes him from behind as the wheels of his roller skates make sure that sunghoon keeps on moving. he looks like he’s ready to move on into the afterlife. your eyes light up when they drag him closer.

“c’mon, hyung! just a little bit more— a liiiiittle bit—

“i told you, i’m never coming back here again!“ you hear him groan, attempting to break away from his escort team. “never ever. never again. this is is where half of my dignity is buried. my pride. my shame. my—”

and then he freezes.

sunghoon gets frozen by an invisible force when your eyes meet, frozen but his cheeks are set ablaze. his friends did a great job in escorting him to you, encasing him and in consequence his view of his surroundings until you’re within an arm’s reach so he doesnt run away. the heat from his face thaws him back into movement, panicked and angry expressions sent to his friends and they all look pretty stupid trying to talk with just their eyebrows, but it’s cute nonetheless.

“hey!” you finally chipper in, causing sunghoon to freeze once more, creaking to meet your gaze. 

“h—hello. hi.”

sunghoon’s greeting comes out as a choke. jake and jungwon send each other signals before hurling the poor boy at you.

it’s like he’s suddenly forgotten how to skate. he can’t control his muscles, sliding over the short path at a dangerous speed that mimics his racing heart and oh shit— oh shit, oh shit. how does he stop again? how does he make a turn? how does he not fucking crash into you like a meteor being sucked into the earth’s orbit?

“oh!”

like all of his (very limited) interactions with you, sunghoon crashes and burns. it’s inevitable. but this time, he crashes and burns into you. you’re both on the concrete and his hand feels like it got crushed between the hard ground and the back of your head, but that pain quickly subsides into a numbing buzz, pumping his arteries with nectar, burning his veins with gasoline, because holy crap—

“close.”

“you’re right, that was a close call,” you breathe out. “i could’ve cracked my skull open.”

“i— i mean, close, you’re— you’re too close.”

does he realize that you can’t exactly move underneath him? he probably doesn’t, not when you can practically see the smoke emitting from his head and the panicked swirl in his eyes and you can’t help but laugh. “ah, sorry.” that was a mistake. sunghoon’s face flushes warmer and like a hammer to his skull, the realization hits and he and slowly pries himself off of you.

“sorry—”

“it’s fine.” you sit up and brush the dust off your clothes, stretching out your legs as you nudge yourself closer to him on the ground. “your friends told me you’ve been sick. are you feeling better now?”

“huh?” 

you’re not sure why he’s confused, but he looks very confused before turning his gaze to his friends. you find jay snapping out a thumbs up and sunoo’s stern face somehow reading don’t fucking blow it. he turns back to you with a lot more sweat on his neck than prior. “oh, yeah i was sick, i was so sick, ahaha—” he stammers. “a—anyway, what’s up?”

“i just wanted to see you again. it’s not everyday that i get a compliment on my shoelaces, you know?” you smile. “what about today? aren’t they prettier than the last ones?”

you wiggle your shoes to show off, laced in a complicated pattern that you’ve been practicing for the past five days, and you expect to receive another compliment for it, but sunghoon is oddly quiet. 

he’s quiet. you’re sure you chose a cool pair of shoes this morning. you’re about to be disappointed, until you notice that he’s actually thinking. he’s thinking very hard he’s thinking of something, and that something comes out of his mouth in the form of a badly timed pun.

“...what about...toe-day...”

park sunghoon only knows how to crash and burn. all his friends are a witness to that. they’re a witness to this events that transpired this afternoon, but what they didn’t expect is for you to have an affinity for disasters. you’re laughing at his dumb joke. you’re actually laughing. they’ve been shitting on sunghoon for being hopeless, but maybe there’s something wrong with you, too.

CRASH & BURN.

© hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[lucifertoxics]

give me butterflies | viscount tewkesbury

pairing: tewkesbury x reader | genre: friends to lovers | warnings: no warnings <3 | word count: 1.4k | aura's note: just a cute tewkesbury ff because who wouldn't want to have him as their boyfriend, so enjoy :)

[ BACK TO MASTERLIST ]

The evening was lovely. It was one of those summers nights when you lose track of time. Young people dressed up for occasion, were dancing to the rhythm of the classical orchestra.

As you were making your way through the crowd, a hand grabbed your arm to drag you away from the ballroom. That's when you immediately recognized your childhood friend.

"Long time no see. You have grown. I can't help but wonder, are you still such a poor dancer?" Tewkesbury said warmly, putting on a gentle smile.

"Tew! What are you doing here?" You said surprised to see him there, as you hugged him tight, wrapping your hands around his neck.

His hand moved to the small of your back and hugged you warmly, his lips curling into a teasing smile. "I couldn't bear miss this party. I was hoping to run into you again. Oh, how i missed our conversations." He looked at you with an amused expression. "I'm sure most of the gentleman in line to have the honors of dancing with you must envy me right now."

"You can be sure of that." You smiled looking at him. " But i'll be more delighted to dance with you more than any other gentlemen."

Tewkesbury chuckled, enjoying the soft way you were teasing him. As the orchestra was striking the first chords for the next dance, he took your hand and led you to the dance floor. "You look beautiful tonight, by the way. This shade of violet is very becoming on your skin."

"Thank you." You said blushing as you looked at him. "You don't look too bad yourself, black always suited you."

Tewkesbury laughed, appreciating the praise of his attire. He danced graviously, his movements fluid and sensual, making the most out of every spin and step you took together. And, even with the crowded dance floor, he managed to catch your gaze from time to time while dancing, his gaze full of longing and tenderness. He finally broke the silence, his voice soft and flirtarious. "Tell me...have you missed me, by any chance?"

"Of course i've missed you, we haven't talked in a while!" You said smiling and looking at him as the two of you danced.

Tewkesbury'a grin widened as he heard your answer. "I'm relieved. I'd be furious if you tood me you haven't missed me!" He danced closer to you, his movements getting a bit more passionate and sensuous now, He leaned closer ss you two swayed together, his voice barely a whisper. "Tell me...should we make up for our lost time now?"

"That woukd be such a great idea." You smiled as you looked at him. He looked so handsome. The way his eyes glowed as he looked at you as if you were a precious jewel he had never seen before. The way he laughed at your teasing. You loved everything about this boy. "And how do you suggest we do that?"

"I was thinking we could find a quiet place in the garden, or maybe in one of the salons. You know to get some fresh air..." He paused, his words carrying a hidden meaning. "Or we could spend some time without all those people around us." His voice was full of tenderness and sensual desire; his eyes scanned your features for a few seconds before he asked. "Just...just the two of us?"

"Ever since i've known you, you have always liked flowers so i might suggest that we could go to the garden." You said in the same tone as his, still looking into his eyes.

"How sweet of you to remember my fondness for flowers." He tilted his head with a cheeky grin. "But i like how your mind works, a lovely place to start. Let's go to the garden then." He led you out into the warm summer night, passing through the elegant halls ans crossing the threshold of the garden. He walked beside you, his hands holding yours as you walked, his other hand on your waist. As the two of you were getting further away from the party, he pulled you closer to him.

You look at him surprised by his action. "So how have things changed while i was gone? Did you miss me that much?" You say pushing his shoulder playfully.

"It's safe to say i have." His fingers combed through your hair, taking time to appreciate the way your hair looked so soft ans shiny in the moonlight. "Did you miss me too?" He teased peacefully, pulling you closer ro him. "To you, i'm just the same boy you knew a long time ago, but...i've changed a lot since you last saw me, in more ways than one."

"And how did you change?" You said rearranging his tie still keeping eye contact. "Certainly you have much grater hair now." You said ruffling his hair.

Tewkesbury smiled at the way you were playing with his hair. "First...I grew a bit, i'm not that skinny kid you used to laugh at anymore. I got taller, more..grown." His hands moved away from your hair to your waist, his voice getting sexier as he continued. "Second...i'm not as innocent as i used to be. If i were to tell you what i've been up to in recent years, i'm sure you'd blushed, a lot."

"I heard about your recent adventures and courtings that have happened" You smiled looking at him. "Girls seem to be all over you, viscount" You said in a teasing voice wrapping your hands around his neck.

Tewkesbury chuckled, enjoying your playful teasing. "Courtings?" He asked in a sarcastic tone. "That sounds very fancy, if i may say so. I've had countless girls trying to get my attention, and yet...none of them ever made the cut, so to say. They didn't have that thing about them. They never caught my attention. He leaned closer to you, his voice becoming more romantic. "And what about you? Any special gentleman in your life?"

"Well there have been several of them that have tried to catch my attention, but no one in particular has managed to give me the butterflies i have been longing for." You explained yourself to him in a romantic voice, as what you have just told him also had a hidden message.

Tewkesbury grinned as the hidden message sunk in. "So you're looking for someone to give you butterflies, is this what you're trying to say?" His grip tightened around you, and his voice had dropped to an amorous whisper. "Someone that can make you feel something special, someone you would be eager to spend time with...and who amkea hours dissapear in the blink if an eye, is that correct?"

"Yes, that's exactly what i search in that someone." You said leaning in closer to him, playing a bit with the hair from the back of his head, focusing on his face.

Tewkesbury smiled as you played with his hair. "Then tell me, do i give you that feeling? Do i have it...the special something you've been looking for?" He caressed your cheek, his lips a few inches from yours, close enough for you to feel the heat of his breath on your skin.

"You've always had that, tew." You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes, enjoying the feeling.

Tewkesbury's grin widen as he heard your words and saw your action; he moved his other hand to the small of your back, his lips now just an inch away from your earlobe. His breath was warm, yet subtle enough to make you lean toward him. He spoke with a low voice, his words drippung with sensuality and desire. "I should have come to find you years ago..."

"You're here...and that's what matters." You said leaning in closer to him, your lips inches apart.

This time, it was Tewkesbury who leaned in, wanting to close the last gap between the two of you. He moved slowly, letting time pass before your lips finally touched. When it finally happened, your lips smashed together so naturally, as if they were made exactly for each other. Your tongues danced, as your hands caressed each other's back as you stood together in a passionate embrace. A moment later, he pulled away and looked at you intently. Your breaths were mixed and your hearts beat quickly in your chests

© LUCIFERTOXICS ⎯ do not translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.

[gilbirda]

Ouroboros

Sequel to "Another Harley Quinn"

Go to the first fic: "Deal"

After everything is said and done, it is no secret that Bruce doesn't approve of Jason's choice of partner. How far is he ready to go to reject her, and what are Jazz and Jason willing to give?

[Read on AO3][Read on FF]

---

She was running.

She was running and the streets were too dark, the shadows too long, the air too cold. She was running through a city she had come to know but was alien to her, a place she wanted to call home and yet she couldn’t call hers.

Jazz was running. Her chest hurt. Her feet hurt.

That’s when she saw it.

It was familiar, something that looked like home between the streets she didn’t belong in, and yet, it wasn’t home.

(Nothing was really home since Danny—)

She knew it. Jazz was sure. It was a ghost, she was positive, but a ghost she had never encountered before. It was bright, glowing in the dark streets, its light making its features difficult to discern. The body was more like a floating torn bed sheet than a human body.

It had a face.

It opened its mouth, jaw unhinged, and screamed.

***

Jazz woke up with a start, the only thing not letting her fall forwards and faceplant on the coffee table was a strong arm around her waist.

“Easy there, love.”

She looked up at Jason, blinking the sleep away. “Did I fall asleep? I’m sorry.”

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. She usually doesn't fall asleep like this, but lately…

“It’s okay,” Bruce set his cup on the table, “you must be tired after last night.”

Last night… Right, she had been up late taking down a drug operation at the docks. That Batman knew about it even if she did it alone wasn’t surprising. The slight judgemental glint in his eyes wasn’t a surprise either — she had killed the lieutenant after destroying the cargo.

It had been the third chance she had given him and that person decided to mock her for being soft, claiming that “a man would have pulled the trigger already”. If that wasn’t enough to kill him, the fact that his ex-girlfriend had filed for a restraining order for the second time, and had been dismissed by the police again, was a deal breaker for her.

Not that Bruce would care about things like that.

“She's been having weird dreams lately and wakes up really tired.”

Jason, as always, jumped to protect her. Maybe he was trying to remind Bruce that they were in this together, that it didn’t matter that she was taking over while he got his GED and started college. That if Bruce had a problem with her he had a problem with the two of them.

“I think she’s trying to tell me something,” Jazz sat straight, cracking her back. She shouldn’t have fallen asleep like that, now her back was going to be sore. “I mean Gotham.”

“Again?”

“Is the same dream over and over again, the same noise. I thought after Joker…” Jazz trailed off, remembering that encounter with the Spirit. She had been another person then. Another woman. Felt like long ago and yet like yesterday.

“Hm?”

Both ignored Bruce’s clear “hm” demanding her to elaborate. Right. They never explained what happened with the Joker.

“I think she is trying to warn me about something that’s coming.” Her mind went back to the screaming ghost, to the dark alleys. That wasn’t Gotham, even if it gave the illusion to be. “Something more in my, uh, expertise.”

“Well, that’s ominous,” Jason was deliberately only looking at her face, “and vague. Wanna go over it when we get home?”

Any thought was derailed when he lifted a hand to comb it through her hair. It felt nice. He was very warm.

“Sure.” She picked his hand and kissed the palm. “I’m going to check if Alfred needs help with dinner.”

Still ignoring Bruce, Jazz stood up and left what was going to be another interrogation.

***

“Elaborate.”

Jason watched her walk away, conflicted. She had been a bit distracted lately, spacing out more and more; and even if he was positive she was not actively hiding anything from him, he was sure something was going on with her.

The thought that not even she knew what was happening was not helping.

“Jason.”

He looked up at his father. “What?”

“Elaborate.”

Jason didn’t like that it was worded like an order. Or that Bruce used that tone with him, with Jazz. Honestly? He was fed up with Bruce’s behavior about his girlfriend. She said it was okay, that Bruce would eventually let it go, but Jason didn’t like that she had to endure that constant drilling because of—

No. It wasn’t because of him.

Jazz had been firm when she insisted it was never his fault. That if Bruce decided to be a dick about her it was not because of Jason.

But Jason knew his father better than her, he knew what made the man tick, what he was thinking with each gesture. Sure, Jazz had investigated Bruce Wayne, Batman, and everything about Gotham — but she hadn’t lived any of it.

What Bruce hated about Jazz is what he hated in Jason, the new Jason, and what he refused to accept. It didn’t take a genius to see that the man berated her for things Jason taught her or did with her. It was obvious at this point, after all these months, that Bruce just couldn't let go of the little boy that died.

Listen. If Jason had problems with Bruce, it was his problem, not Jazz’s. She was innocent.

“Bruce.” He cut whatever the other man was about to say. “You have to stop.”

This made him blink in surprise. Yeah right. As if he didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Stop what?”

“Don’t give me that crap. You know what I mean.”

They looked at each other in tense silence.

Bruce sighed, leaning back on the sofa, rubbing his face before looking elsewhere but him.

“I just —” he started, unsure of what he really wanted to say. Was he going to be honest, for once? “I don’t — There is something about her… I don’t like it.”

There it is.

I don't like her.

I don’t trust her.

Of course he doesn’t. That stupid control freak. Jazz was a bat trained individual that didn’t go through him or was approved by him. She had access to the Cave and to all their technology, just like Jason, just like Bruce promised they could.

But that wasn’t the problem. Jazz could be temporarily banned and put on trial phase until she passed all of Bruce’s tests and yet she would never be enough.

“We are a package deal, Bruce.”

The look the man gave him was equally annoyed and defeated. “I know.”

“She’s not a villain.” It hurt. How Bruce’s jaw muscle tensed like he wanted to say otherwise, it hurt. If he considered her a villain, he considered him a villain too. He was just too chicken to say it. “She’s my partner. She’s my other half.”

“I know.” He grumbled.

Bruce didn’t like her. He didn’t approve of her. He never would.

“Why do you hate her so much?” Jason swallowed the discomfort. He needed to know. He needed to understand if it was a stupid dream to think he could have both his family and his partner. If he had to put distance between them and Jazz, he had no doubt who he would choose to go with. “Why is she the villain and not me?”

Bruce looked at him like he grew another head. “That’s ridiculous. You are not a villain. I don’t agree with your methods, but—”

“But nothing! She’s just the same as me. I trained her! I brought her into this life! If there is someone you should distrust is me!” He stood up, angry at the argument.

Surprisingly enough, the older man was unfazed. He thought his words carefully, looking down at his clasped hands. After about a minute, he finally said.

“She killed her own parents.”

That was it? “What are you talking about? I was the one that did the actual killing.”

He still remembered it like it was yesterday. How he took his time, how he made it hurt. He let them know on whose orders he was doing that to them and why.

“She hired you to kill them,” Bruce shook his head, frowning, “is not the same.”

“What the fuck do you mean with ‘not the same’? Bruce, you weren’t there, you didn’t see what happened. They killed her brother.”

“It still doesn’t justify—”

“They tortured him, Bruce. Their own son. They deserved to die.”

Bruce blinked, eyes searching Jason’s face, like he was seeing him for the first time.

“They deserved to face justice. Not— Not whatever she asked you to do.”

She never asked him to torture them. Sure, she said ‘I want those two to suffer’, but she never specified how and what she wanted. She was angry and filled with rage, and she wanted to make them pay for what they did — but she didn’t ask him to break every bone in their bodies and keep them awake during the whole process.

It had been all him.

“That’s the thing, Bruce. She tried to seek justice, and the system failed her. If just—” Jason looked away, uncomfortable with sharing memories that weren’t his “ — If ‘Justice’ actually had helped her, her brother would still be alive. But she took too long with the longer route, and by the time she decided to fix it on her own, Danny was already gone. Torn apart by his own parents.”

“What she asked of you wasn’t justice either.”

“No.” He conceded. “She wanted vengeance.”

He remembered her dark eyes, so empty of any emotion except cold fury. It was easy to forget now that she smiled and regarded him with warmth, but not that long ago she had been an empty husk running on rage and rage alone.

“I still don’t understand… How?” At his questioning look, Bruce added: “We researched her, her family. There was no reason to believe they hurt either of their kids. Danny disappeared and run away and yes, it was suspicious as hell, but—”

“Are you listening to yourself? The investigation of Danny’s disappearance is a joke and obviously a cover up. Are you so dead set on making her the bad guy that you overlook something so simple?”

Bruce thought his words for a moment, maybe finally noticing how his rejection of his partner was affecting his own son. He was making that soft face he had every time he talked about how he messed up with Dick and how he could have done it better.

“A cover up by who?”

“What? The GIW, obviously.”

Did he not know?

Wait.

Bruce stood up, eyes wide. “The Ghost Investigation Ward?”

He doesn't know.

“Bruce?”

“They were supported by the GIW?”

He really doesn’t know.

“Bruce… they were the lead scientists of the GIW.”

Jason watched the pieces start to fit in Bruce��s mind, the whole story taking shape in his detective brain. Did he know about project P-001? About how Danny exactly died? About what they did to other ecto-entities?

“Did she know? Did she allow it?”

What was with Bruce and always assuming the worst? With a sigh, Jason gestured towards where the kitchen was, asking Bruce to walk with him. If what he needed to stop being hostile was answers, he would give them.

“About her parents working with the GIW? Yes. About the experiments? No.”

“And Danny—”

“Danny was taken away when she was away in college. Came back home to find her brother gone and her parents uncaring about his whereabouts.”

He truly didn’t like speaking for Jazz, but he also didn’t want her to relive all of this just because Bruce couldn’t let it go.

When Bruce didn’t ask another question, he continued. “She and Danny’s friends tried to get him back, but nothing worked. They were just kids against a whole shady fake government agency — they never stood a chance. They tried anyway.”

“They could have called the Justice League.”

Jason was already shaking his head before he finished talking. “And say what? ‘Evil organization that’s barely legal has kidnapped my brother’? Bruce, we both know that by the time a thorough investigation happened it would have been too late.”

“But we did investigate them. Sure, a lot of it was destroyed but the little we could find we completely tore down.”

He doesn’t know, he doesn’t know.

Jason took a deep breath as they arrived at the kitchen, smiling when he saw Jazz completely engrossed with her task of cutting the vegetables. She was smiling and chatting with Alfred about something he couldn’t hear from there, but she looked… good. At peace.

“There was an anonymous tip to the Justice League, yes?”

“How do you—”

Jason looked back at Bruce, not hiding his thoughts. The older man made the correct connections and the correct assumptions. Who destroyed the GIW bases, who killed all those people, who brought the Justice a lonely soul desperately needed.

“Bruce. She has suffered enough. Let it go.”

The other man was also watching Jazz cook; and as if she felt their gazes, she looked up at the pair. Jazz smiled, the emotion not quite getting to her eyes, and she waved with the hand that still had the knife.

Bruce’s mouth twisted a bit.

“I didn’t know.”

“You shouldn’t have to know. She’s what I want. That should have been enough.”

Jason didn’t imagine the pain in his father’s eyes when he looked back at him.

***

Tim glanced nervously at the woman quietly watching the horizon next to him.

What was Bruce thinking? Making him do patrol with her? Alone? What if she snapped and killed him?

“I know you are scared of me.”

He jumped at the mechanical voice, finding her smiling down at him. He wasn’t sure. With the mask in the way it was difficult to know.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

Yeah, right.

“Really. I don’t hurt children.”

“You shouldn’t kill people, period!” He snapped. “Sorry.” Tim muttered at his outburst. Murder girlfriend or not, he had manners and Alfred wouldn’t like it if he was rude to a guest.

Jasmine looked away, humming in thought, her eyes watching the shadows of the night. Did she see something special in them? Apparently she had some kind of enhancements due to her parents’ experimentation — something about contamination? — but no formal testing of her abilities had been done. Yet.

“Am I that scary?”

Tim almost missed the quiet question.

“It Isn't that — uh…” He tried to find the correct words. Scary? She was not scary per se. Her outfit was not made for intimidation, she looked pretty average with her dark pants, combat boots and black shirt. The most noticeable parts of her outfit were the full utility belt around her waist and the guns strapped to her thighs. And the red hair. But she was not scary. “I’ve seen scarier people.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” She turned to look at him.

Her eyes. He didn’t like her eyes.

They were an uncanny shade of blue that looked green under certain lights. Eyes that sometimes glowed Lazarus Pits green. Eyes that gave him goosebumps.

“Why do you want to know? You are the head of the Crime Underworld of Gotham, of course you are scary.” She found his words funny. “You don’t kill the Joker with kindness, either.”

She tilted her head, looking back at the city. “Yeah. You might be right.”

“Of course I’m right.” He scoffed, walking closer. She didn’t react to his proximity. “Did you really kill him, though?”

“B didn’t tell you?”

“He just said… He said he found him dead. That Hood and you sent him in a wild goose chase and it was all so he couldn’t stop you from killing him.”

“There you go, then.”

“He also said there were screams and that he couldn’t get in the room.” He looked at her profile, since she refused to look back at him. “We reviewed the cowl footage but it was all noise and snow.”

Jazz hummed.

Tim narrowed his eyes. “You know why, don’t you?”

She thought for a moment before answering. "I do."

"Well?"

She smiled. "Why would I tell you?"

Robin groaned in frustration, like he did every time she deflected his questions. Jazz was very private and didn't share any information that wasn't already guessed or known; and even in the case of the former, she usually smiles and let him ramble theories of what actually happened and never confirm or deny them.

Tim was still deciding if he hated her. Well. Hate was a big word.

Dislike.

Did he mind the murdering? Yeah, it was disturbing to know the woman smiling in front of him hired a hitman to massacre her own parents and then decided to become a crime lord. Just because.

But Jasmine was kind and patient and understanding, and she didn't bend even after how mean Bruce had been with her. And she loved Jason, really loved him, which made it difficult to reduce her to a mindless criminal.

"I'm curious." He finally admitted. "Truly. No suspicion, no investigation. I want to know."

"You are such a curious bug, huh."

Again she looked at him without really seeing him.

You remind me of him. You have the same spark. I hope it's never beaten out of you.

Tim wasn't stupid — he knew she was seeing her dead brother in him and it bothered him. It bothered him more than when Bruce called him 'Jason' those first months.

"I can talk to ghosts." She said out of the blue. Like it wasn't even that important. "The Spirit of Gotham asked me to kill the Joker."

Tim did a double take, surprised. "Why?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. For real. She just contacted me and told me to do it. So I did."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

There was more story to it, but Tim was going to count his blessings and let it slide for now.

Patrol progressed like normal without any surprises. Just minor crime, barely anything that required Bat intervention, but it was good to be seen around, especially with The Ghost at his side. The people loved Robin, and if they wanted to make them trust that The Ghost was not out there killing everyone, pairing her with Robin was the quickest route.

Was that why B did it? Had he turned a new leaf?

By the time they called off patrol for the day, Tim noticed Jazz being quieter than usual.

"What’s wrong?" He asked her.

Her eyes were hesitant when she looked at him. “Are… I mean, it is— uh…”

“Just spit it out.”

The Ghost was nervous. She shifted a little when they landed on a rooftop to talk.

“Everything okay at school?”

Tim did a double take, watching her like he was seeing her for the first time. What the heck? Was she for real? Asking about school, out of the blue like this? What was the point?

What was her angle?

“Why would I tell you?”

She chuckled. “I had that coming, huh?”

He laughed too, amused by her switch in behavior. It was relaxing to see her act like a human — Jazz was a quiet presence glued to Jason’s side, always watching with those sad eyes.

“School’s good, but boring.”

“Boring?”

“Too easy.” He scoffed. “Teachers don’t know what else to throw at me to make me shut up.”

She hummed. It felt good to not get the speech about school not being just about good grades and that he should be kinder to his teachers, that they were doing their best.

“Any friends?”

What was she doing? Was she trying to be his older sister, trying to fill a void left behind by her loss?

Danny was dead. She wouldn’t bring him back by adopting another kid.

Tim almost laughed, amused at the similarities between Bruce and Jasmine.

Before he could open his mouth to gently ask her to stop, she tensed, looking at a nearby rooftop.

“Robin.” She switched back to The Ghost, the ruthless crime lord. “Go home. Call Batman.”

“What—”

“Do it.”

Tim hesitated a second too long, the glint of a sword on the edge of his vision put him in fight mode. He blocked in time, his staff and his arms straining to withstand the impact of a sword that had been aimed to his neck.

He jumped back, closer to Jazz, watching as a group of ninjas quickly surrounded them.

“We have a situation,” he heard The Ghost’s voice coming from the comms and his ears at the same time. “Requesting back up.”

“En route.” Bruce’s voice was a relief. Even if Tim had been trained and he wasn’t alone, he was starting to get overwhelmed by the quick moving ninjas that were hellbent on killing them.

He didn’t recognize the uniforms and their motivations were unclear. No obvious target either, since they weren’t trying to crowd one of them specifically. The Ghost held her ground, dancing around the assailants with ease and practiced moves, some of them reminiscent of Dick and some of Jason, and he was grateful that she hadn’t whipped out the guns and started shooting at them.

Robin stepped back, staff ready, feinting to the left to do a sweep under the closest ninja, making them stumble enough to elbow them in the side of the neck, knocking them out.

One down, three more to go.

He focused on his own fight, watching them, expecting their moves, dodging the very sharp blades they were swinging in his direction. Tim knew he was fast and he learned even faster, something Bruce always praised him about, and he decided to prove he was worth the chance to be Robin as best he could do.

The second assassin made a mistake, one tiny misstep, and he used his grappling gun to tie their legs together, leaving them dangling from the edge of the roof.

Now that he was facing only two of them it was easier to keep up with the speed. His staff was very useful to keep them at a safe distance, and he used that advantage as best as he could, even if the ninjas understood that they were losing the upper hand.

They changed tactics, instead of going for the kill they were planning on tiring him out — when he blocked one he had to be watching the other and expecting their move, not having a second to breathe. He was starting to get light headed and his arms starting to hurt after blocking impact after impact, when he finally saw his chance with one of them.

He attacked fast, staff ready, doing a series of katas that were meant to confuse the opponent and end with a strong push to the chest. Tim even managed to knock the sword out of their hands. When he hit them on the head and the guy was down.

“Ha!” He allowed himself the shout of victory, turning around to face the other one—

Only to find wide eyes on a partially covered face, a choked scream escaping the trained assassin. Tim looked down to find the point of a sword right on his neck, barely digging in his skin. He continued looking down and saw rivers of blood coming down the assassin’s front from where another blade was piercing their chest.

The body hit the ground with a soft thump, leaving The Ghost standing, her face blank, her eyes glowing toxic green, her hands stained with blood.

Both turned to look when a new person arrived at the scene.

Batman didn’t look pleased.

***

Jazz was tired and needed a bath, but she couldn’t even think about going back home yet.

Jason. She needed him, she needed his comfort, but he wouldn’t be home until his fight with Bruce was over.

A fight about her.

She knew killing the assassin would have consequences. She could have simply reduced them, she could have pushed Tim away and gotten hit instead, she could have thrown a smoke bomb and given Tim enough time to run away.

But she killed, and it had been a deliberate choice. Bruce knew that, Tim knew that — even if he had tried to defend her a few times before being completely shut down — and Jason knew that.

She just couldn’t think about anything else the moment she saw the black silhouette approach the boy from behind. Tim was just that, a little kid roped into hero life, and she needed to protect him. She needed—

Jazz was not stupid. Tim wasn’t Danny, she didn’t have any right to be any kind of older sister to him. She had one chance at that and she lost it, she couldn’t just act like she deserved another.

The Ghost looked at the rising sun on the horizon, her ears ringing with the screams and threats Jason and Bruce had been throwing at each other by the time she quietly stepped out and left the Batcave. She doubted any of them noticed her leave, too engrossed in the moral question of taking a life and the what if’s and could have’s.

Jason looked distressed and unhappy, not just angry. She knew him, she knew he didn’t like to fight with Bruce like this.

It felt that was the only thing they did when she was near.

“Finally caught you alone,” a smooth feminine voice purred behind her.

Jazz turned, finding a dark skinned woman looking down at her, her long black hair flowing in the breeze. She was tall, and strong, her common-looking t-shirt and jeans not hiding the powerful stance of someone that knew she was in charge.

She didn’t miss the gun on her waist or the sword at her back.

“Talia.” She recognized her from the photos Jason showed her. She never thought they’d ever meet in person. “If you are looking for Jason he is busy at the moment.”

“I’m not looking for him.” Her deep green eyes were fixed on her, analyzing. “I wanted to have a chat with you.”

Jazz tensed. Knowing what she knew about Talia, that couldn’t be anything good.

“I wanted to make you an offer.”

She arched an eyebrow. “An offer?”

“Yes. I have been following you and I’ve seen what you can do. What Jason made of you.”

So Jay was right. Talia was watching. She really couldn’t let it go, huh.

“And?”

“I think we can benefit each other.”

This made her scoff. “What makes you think you can give me something I want?”

Danny was dead, he had been avenged. She didn’t need anything else.

Somehow, Talia found her response hilarious. She chuckled with that silky voice of hers and approached Jazz to watch the city besides her.

“This is not your world. This is not your place. You have been aimless since the death of your brother.”

Jazz didn’t give her the pleasure of seeing her react to her words. Talia was a snake that dealt with information, she taught Jason some of her tricks. She would know about Danny and the GIW and how she came to meet Jason, of course.

“I’m not aimless.” Jason’s smiling face came to her mind. He had given her a home when she thought she had nothing to come back to. “I have—”

“Jason. Yes.” Talia hummed. “But do you really?”

This made her tense. “What do you mean?”

Talia’s smile was pitiful when she turned to look at her, the rising sun painting half her face with warm colors.

“You are in the way of his happy ending, dear.”

Jazz blinked, her heart skipping a beat. She knew that, she knew that things were rocky with Jason’s family, but to hear it put bluntly like that…

“You can have him, sure, but you’d make him lose everything else. Everything he wants. Jason lost his edge when he met you, and since that day he has gotten as dependent on you as you are on him. He has been declawed and what he wants now is a happy family to come back to, something you cannot give him, but he is too blinded by love to see it.”

Jazz hated that it made sense, that Talia was wording her troubled thoughts like this. She knew Talia pulled stunts like this, manipulating people until she had you working for her, but it made so much sense.

“Let him be happy, let him get his father back. Get his family back. If you love him, truly love him, then let him get his happy ending.”

Jazz watched the sunrise without blinking until it hurt. Her eyes watered.

She swallowed the knot in her throat and asked: “And what do you want?” What was her angle? What did she gain by this?

She didn’t turn to look at Talia when she answered, knowing she would crumble the moment she saw her cunning eyes. “I can help you become better, become perfect. I’ve seen what you can become and I’m positive you could use those skills to make sure no one else gets hurt like your brother was hurt.”

“You are talking about becoming an assassin for you.”

Talia chuckled. “Not ‘for me’, dear. You’d be your own person, you could choose your own targets. All I’m offering is resources and training Jason can’t provide. And Bruce wouldn’t ever approve.”

Jazz didn’t answer and Talia didn’t push, both stayed quietly watching the sun climbing in the sky as the city woke up and started to pulse with life one more day. One more day where people would get hurt somewhere in the world, people she could help and yet she was in Gotham feeling like an intruder in someone else’s family, trying to play house.

Talia was making sense. She didn’t like it.

“I’ll think about it.”

***

When Jason came back to the apartment he shared with Jazz, he was ready to drop dead and nap for the rest of the day. He was completely spent, his mind frayed and reeling with the argument and following screaming match about Jazz and how Bruce didn’t like her.

He had been doing so well after the conversation they had, he had been trying, smiling more and including her in things and putting her on patrol with Timbo so people got used to seeing her fight crime with the Hope of Gotham.

She killed the assassin, true, but she had saved the kid’s life. Could she have done something else? Sure, of course, but it wasn’t like the assassins were playing games and letting many chances or going easy on them. If Jazz thought the best course of action was killing him, he trusted her.

Bruce didn’t. He kept going back to the recordings of Robin’s mask, marking places where she could have done better, where should have taken another route. It didn’t matter that the kid said he agreed the assassins were going for the kill or that it was his fault for being careless — Bruce was set on banning her from the Cave, from the Manor and from operating in the city altogether.

Jazz was nowhere to be seen at the Manor when Jason decided that arguing with Bruce was pointless and got on his bike and rode off without explaining more. He was tired. He needed his girlfriend.

Just as he thought, she was at the apartment, waiting. She was not in her usual chair reading or at the kitchen having her post patrol tea; but he found her on the bed still wearing her suit, sitting with her back against the headboard. She was looking at the opposite wall with unblinking eyes, brows furrowed.

“Darling?”

She blinked, turning to look at him with empty eyes. He never wanted to see her look at him like that again, he hated that the situation had made her this upset.

“Hi.” She smiled, but it was wrong. “How did it go?”

“Bruce’s pissed but I don’t give a shit. He can choke for all I care.” Jason huffed, sitting on his side of the bed to start on getting rid of the suit. “I know this isn’t over, but whatever. He’ll get over it.”

Jazz hummed softly, with her ‘I’m considering something that you wouldn’t like’ voice. He stopped unlacing his boots, turning to watch her. She looked… off. Not just upset, but genuinely like— like she was back to that empty shell that accepted his offer of coming to Gotham with him.

“Jason,” she started, “was this… a mistake?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I… If…,” she licked her lips, looking away from his eyes. “If I left, do you think Bruce would drop it?”

Jason felt like ice crystals started growing in his chest. She couldn’t mean…?

“I understand you love me, but I can’t pretend to understand the relationship you have with your father. All of… this — “ All of me, he knew she wanted to say “ — is putting a strain in that relationship that I don't want you to have.”

He felt like he couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t seriously be talking about breaking up. Not like this.

“I love you too, and—”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He had the urge to grab her by the shoulders and shake the stupidity out of her head. “Are you seriously thinking about breaking up with me over this?”

She shook her head. “Not just over this. I’m talking about everything else, too. You have been sweet and I love you with all my heart, but darling, this is tearing you apart.”

He couldn’t argue otherwise. He couldn’t deny he had been thinking about not coming back to the Manor and just say fuck it to the whole thing.

Jason was tired of arguing. He didn’t want to fight anymore. If he tried to argue with Jazz right there, right then, he would give up and let her leave without a fight.

“Can we— Can we please put a pin on this conversation?”

She was going to say something else, but closed her mouth, nodding. “Of course. I’ll… There is food in the kitchen. I’m going to shower first, if you don’t mind.”

It’s true that they didn’t bathe together all the time, but he really, really had been looking forward to her affection and, for once, her physical contact. It felt empty, watching her stand up and leave the room without looking back. Felt like an ending to their story, even if Jazz had agreed she would want to talk about this when both were in a better headspace.

This was not how he expected his day to end, how he wanted this to go. He wouldn’t let the best thing to ever happen to him to either leave him or regress to that broken woman he extended his hand to.

Jazz carefully avoided him after the shower, and she chose to sleep on the couch instead of the bed with him. Jason didn’t have enough energy in him to convince her to get into the bed.

When he woke she was still there, calming down his instinct that she just packed her stuff and left while he slept — Danny’s rocket model was still on her night table and the apartment smelled like freshly made coffee.

She was looking outside the window at the sun going down, a still steaming cup of coffee in her hands. Coffee, not tea.

“Hey.”

She turned to smile at him, eyes still haunted, deep bags under her eyes. Did she sleep at all? “Hey.” At least her smile was more normal.

“Feeling better?”

She shook her head, but approached him to kiss him on the cheek before sitting down on the kitchen table. “Wanna talk now?”

With a heavy sigh, Jason got his own cup of coffee and joined her at the table.

“Let’s talk.”

She nodded. “Talia came to see me.”

Jason choked on his coffee. “What?” He managed to say as he coughed out the liquid.

“She made me an offer.”

“You know her offers—”

“Hear me out.” She stopped him before he continued, lifting a hand to signal she wanted to talk. “I’m not going to accept. Talia’s motivations are not clear and I trust you when you say she is shady about her offers.” She tilted her head. “I also think that she is the one that sent those assassins to provoke me”

This made him sigh in relief. That did sound like Talia, and it was good that Jazz caught on that quickly. “Okay.”

“But she made a good point.”

“She told you to break up with me?”

Jazz hummed. “Something like that.”

“Well that’s stupid.” He scoffed. “That wouldn’t solve the problem.”

“And what’s ‘the problem’, then?” She arched an eyebrow, daring him to say otherwise.

“It doesn't matter if Bruce hates you. It doesn’t matter if you stay, or you leave or if we don’t see each other again.” He leaned in to take one of her hands and smiled when she didn’t move away, and even squeezed his hand. “Bruce’s beef with you is actually with the stuff I taught you, the stuff that’s a part of me I wanted to share with you. If he cannot stand you because of that then he is making the active choice to not see I am the same.”

Jazz’s eyes were fixed on their joined hands as she considered his words. She sipped her coffee without looking away.

“If the condition for him to love me is for you to go away then he doesn’t deserve me — and that has nothing to do with you personally.”

Seconds ticked by in the quiet kitchen.

He was firm about what he said and was completely ready to fight Bruce on that if it came to it. It was beyond if Jazz was a ‘bad influence’ or not, beyond trying to play perfect son for Bruce, beyond trying to make him see that they couldn’t go back to how they were before he died.

“Okay.” Jazz said, taking a deep breath. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Her smile was watery, her eyes shining with tears, but she looked less pale and less like she was about to crumble down.

“I love you.” She said. Neither commented on how shaky her voice was. She wanted him, he could see it in her eyes. It wasn’t because she thought he would need her, or because she thought that was what he wanted — she wanted to be with him.

“Love you too.” He stood up and walked around the table, extended a hand to touch her cheek. She leaned into the touch. “We’ll figure this out, but we have to do it together. I need my partner in crime.”

A few tears went down her cheeks as she nodded.

***

Jazz kept her distance from the Manor the following weeks and focused on things on the crime side of their lives. Jason had been taking on more tasks since they were doing patrol with Batman and Robin as well; but she was now going to focus completely on the Narrows and Crime Alley and let Jason take care of things with his father. He asked her to trust him and she trusted him. They were partners.

She was going back home thinking about her cup of tea and maybe convincing Jason to cuddle under a blanket and read together for a bit; when she saw it.

It was bright and just at the corner of her mind, and she understood she had to follow it.

Not one to question Gotham after all that happened, Jazz followed her gut instinct further and further away from their territory, across the bridge and deeper into the business district. There were some people walking around at night, better dressed people, that looked at her as she followed the faint signs of something other. She ignored them all, how men and women alike chose to get away from her as soon as she was in their sights.

She knew what the “nice” people of Gotham thought of her, it didn’t take a mind reader to understand that it took more time for these people to realize she was no Harley Quinn.

In any case, it was good that she found no resistance as she pursued the white form across the serpentine streets. She couldn’t shake the feeling she was being guided somewhere, but she still needed to investigate.

The chase ended in a deserted street that had an opening to an abandoned metro station — if her memory was correct, it was part of the first metro line in the city, and the route was adjusted after the city grew in another direction.

Jazz wasn’t looking at the art decó structure of the metro opening, though. Her eyes were fixed on the white form floating in the middle of the street.

It grew and grew, quietly and quickly taking a longer shape — a human shape. Legs, arms, torso and a head. It was so bright on a dark background that it hurt her sensitive eyes, but she kept looking at the humanoid shape, wondering what or who it was.

The white light started to dim around the body, a white sheet, torn and dirty, gently floated in an invisible wind, hiding the actual shape of the body. It’s face was still too bright.

“Hello?” Jazz asked, testing the waters with a step towards the ghost. Because it was a ghost, she was positive. “Do you need help?”

She never thought she would need to help another spirit, but if this lost soul needed assistance to find peace, she was the only person that could help.

It was also what Danny would have done.

The bright figure’s face was too intense to really see the features, but as she walked closer she could see short red hair floating around their face.

“I can help you. My name is Jazz.”

It was like she had said the magic words. The slight humming she didn’t realize she had been hearing stopped. The light stopped pulsing. The figure froze mid-air.

Two eyes opened in the creature’s face. Deep black eyes, full of hatred.

A mouth opened, impossibly wide open, in a way that a normal human could never be able to do.

It was a split second — just a tiny moment as the light in its face dimmed enough for her to clearly see the features — but she recognized that face.

The creature screamed a high pitched sound that blasted the windows of the buildings around them.

***

A ping on the phone and Bruce’s slight frown was the first sign that something was wrong.

“A rogue attack?”

The older man looked up from where he was tapping on the phone screen, the chessboard totally forgotten. It was “bonding day” and Jason had spent the day with Bruce doing whatever. They were in the middle of a post-dinner game of chess, and Jason would leave after they were done. Surprisingly enough, there hadn’t been new arguments that day — but after a few weeks of screaming at each other they were too tired to keep at it.

Jason didn’t miss how Bruce’s mood lifted once he learned Jazz was not coming to the Manor anymore.

He didn’t miss either how Dick, when he came by one weekend, and Alfred were worried at that fact. Or how Tim frowned and looked down, distraught at the development. He didn’t know the shortstack actually liked his girlfriend.

“The Ghost is on her way here.” He tapped the phone screen. Jason hoped he was deactivating security. He better be, at least.

He checked his phone in case there was an emergency and he missed her calls, but there was nothing. She had promised to follow his lead regarding Bruce and he told her to not come around the Manor until he said it was ok, so why was she doing exactly that?

His mind reeled with all the possibilities, since she wouldn’t break her promise for something light.

Jason abandoned the game and approached the door, quickly opening it and running his eyes over the pitch black darkness, trying to identify her silhouette against the dark.

He barely saw the two green eyes before a body slammed against his. Her arms and legs circled around him like a koala, her maskless face buried in the crook of his neck. She was also trembling and her face was wet.

Something was very wrong.

“Jazz?”

She sobbed, rubbing her face against his exposed skin. Her breaths were accelerated too. What could have sent his girlfriend into a panic attack like this? She was made of the tough stuff, she had seen and done a lot of bad shit with him, so why…?

“I…” Her voice was rough. “Jason…”

He squeezed her tighter against him, frowning. “Just breathe with me, darling. Okay? Breathe with me.”

She continued muttering his name, but mimicked his exaggerated slow breaths. In and out, in and out, in and out. The shaking diminished a little bit even if her body continued to be tense.

“Is she okay?”

Jason turned to find Alfred and Bruce looking from the door. It had been Bruce who talked, genuine concern painting his expression. They’ve never seen her out of it before, not even during patrol.

“She’ll be.” He said, walking back up the steps of the porch and into the Manor, registering how Bruce moved aside to let them pass, one hand reaching out to help but not actually touching Jazz. “Alfred, could you—”

“Immediately, sir.”

Jason took the whimpering form of his girlfriend back to the sitting room, walked by the abandoned chess game and settled down on one of the comfortable sofas. He maneuvered her to be on his lap and let her cry in silence as they waited for Alfred to bring a glass of water. He didn’t acknowledge Bruce taking a seat in front of them.

“It was her, Jason. Her… How could this be?” Jazz’s voice was hoarse and spent, barely above a whisper.

“Her?”

“Is not fair.” She rubbed her face against his shoulder. “Not fair.”

He tried really hard to follow her. A quick glance at Bruce told him he also had no idea what was going on, so it wasn’t anything Bruce had done.

Not that he suspected Bruce to try going behind his back and harm Jasmine, but… Well, he wouldn’t put it past him after everything.

Alfred walked right in with a tray with a glass and pitch filled with water, a teapot and some cups. His face didn’t betray anything, but Jason saw his eyebrows furrow for a moment when he glanced at the trembling figure on his lap.

“Thank you.”

The butler nodded and moved to stand behind Bruce, watching them as well.

It was a bit longer before Jazz uncurled enough to accept the water, which she gulped down like a parched man in the desert. She accepted a second glass rather quickly, only giving it a tiny sip before placing it on the coffee table with a frown on her face.

“Jason. She’s back. I don’t know when, I don’t know how. But she—” her voice cracked. “Is not fair.”

“You keep saying that. But who could be—”

“My mother.”

Jason’s memory supplied the tear stained face of Madeline Fenton as she begged for her life. Her screams in the secluded basement where he tied her to a chair. Her void eyes when he explained for the last time why he was doing this.

“She’s dead.”

Jazz laughed, but it wasn’t nice. “Haven’t you heard? Sometimes the dead come back to life.”

“That’s impossible.” He watched her die. He buried her body.

“She’s come back and she’s in Gotham.”

“A ghost?” Bruce spoke, voice carefully low.

Jazz flinched, suddenly too aware of their audience. She kept her gaze on the abandoned glass of water on the table. “A wraith, I think. It’s a type of ghost,” she explained further, feeling the older man’s pointed stare demanding more information, “a subclass, if you will.”

Jason wanted to signal Bruce to stop talking, to not ask the next question. He knew what a wraith was in modern folklore, and he knew that Bruce knew as well.

“What does that mean?” He asked anyway.

Jazz looked him in the eye for the first time since she arrived. “It means she died a painful death and wants revenge.”

The words lingered in the following tense silence. Jazz had never talked about it, especially not with Bruce. He already had a poor opinion of her and she tried so hard to not throw more wood to the fire, so to speak. Her direct admission of what she did, what she asked Jason to do, settled like a block of concrete in their minds.

Bruce’s shoulders tensed for a moment before forcibly relaxing them. He glanced at Jason, expression unreadable.

“Is she going to be a problem?”

Of all the ways to word that question, of course he had to choose the worst one. Jazz took it anyway, licking her lips before picking up her tea cup. She took her time blowing off the steam and taking a sip of the liquid.

The fine porcelain made a clicking sound when she put the cup down, too loud in the quiet room. “She won’t stop until she eliminates her killer.”

Even Alfred looked at Jason with worry.

“We have to—”

Jazz cut Bruce off. “No mortal weapon can kill her. Nothing we can do can stop her.”

They looked at each other, both very tense. Bruce was trying hard not to cave in and take over the situation, push everyone away and fix it himself. Or at least Jason thought so, given what he knew about his father.

The older man unclenched one fist, reaching for his cup of tea. He took his time, considering Jazz’s words, looking at her form still curled on Jason’s lap.

“There’s one thing that can kill her.”

Jazz’s anxious confusion was almost palpable. Bruce let her ruminate his cryptic words like the sadist he could be, gently placing the teacup on the table. He didn’t make any sound, his pinky properly cushioning the porcelain.

“The Justice League seized all that was left regarding the Fenton’s research on Ghosts. Including their—”

“ — weapons.” Jazz finished for him, realization dawning on her.

All the tension left her body, her limbs untethered like a puppet that got their strings cut. Jason felt her heartbeat pick up against his chest, the implications of Bruce’s admission rolling in her head.

***

Bruce waited patiently in his office, watching the soft moonlight coming in from the windows casting shadows on everything. He felt more comfortable in the dark, he was used to it, so he didn’t bother turning on the lights. He could see just fine with the full moon illuminating the room.

Jason, when he was done helping Jazz calm down enough to sleep, would be fine with it too — when he came stomping into the office to make demands and scream at him again.

It was the only thing they did lately.

And it was always about her.

He didn’t hate Jasmine, contrary to what Jason must think. He knew that she was capable of kindness and was a damaged person trying her best. He knew she had a rough childhood and had redirected all that trauma and rage into something constructive.

But so did Bruce, and he didn’t become a mercenary.

Jason taught her how to kill, but she was the one encouraging that behavior in him. She was the one selling him the idea that what they were doing was okay. Bruce had long discarded the idea that she had brainwashed Jason; but Bruce knew how equally damaging toxic love could be for people in their line of work.

Did he think Jason could be nudged in the right direction if Jasmine stopped pulling him further away? That she was knowingly, or unknowingly, associating that life of crime with love?

Yes. Deep in his heart, he knew that sometimes even the purest love could drag you down. He wanted to protect his son from falling deeper than he was.

“Alright, here’s what we are going to do.” Jason said as he opened the door to the office, not giving Bruce time to interject. “I’m going to talk and you will shut the fuck up and listen, ok?”

At least he wasn’t screaming. Probably because his precious Jasmine was sleeping.

Bruce let out a deep sigh and stood up to see Jason eye to eye. His son’s stance was tense and guarded, his eyes shining with controlled emotions.

“You will help — No, it’s not your turn to speak.” He said when Bruce opened his mouth. “You will go to your stupid castle in the sky and you are going to bring down all the weapons you can bring. I don’t care how you do it, but you will convince your boyband to let go of the goods.

“In exchange —” his voice broke a little, but he quickly hid it by clearing his throat and combing back his hair with his fingers. “In exchange I’ll be the perfect little son you always wanted. I’ll come every Sunday for brunch. I’ll patrol with you, with the shortstack and with the Golden Boy. I’ll give up the guns, the killing, everything. I’ll even wear a stupid bat symbol so everyone knows who — that I changed sides.” Bruce knew that was not exactly what he wanted to say. “I don’t care what you do to me. But you will help us and you will leave her out of — out of everything.”

The first crack in his mask. His eyes shone with unshed tears. Angry tears? Jason used to cry when he was a child and rage was overflowing his little body.

“You won’t make her beg. You won’t humiliate her with silly little tests and sadistic games. No power plays. No punishments. I killed her parents. The wraith is coming after me. I will be the one that fixes this and after that… After that we will act like you never met Jazz and like I never died and like — I don’t know.” He breathed, shoulders slumping. “I’m done fighting, Bruce.” The expression he made couldn't be called pleading. It was too angry to be considered in the same category. But still it was a face he hadn’t seen Jason make, ever. “You win, I guess. That’s — That’s the deal.”

Night was quiet as Bruce looked at Jason, really looked at him, for the first time in the whole night. His son has grown into a big man, a bit taller than himself, and nothing like the child he lost years ago.

In that moment, in that place, his boy never looked so small. So disarmed.

Not even in the first days after bringing him to the Manor, when Jason was distrustful and thought he was going to be kicked out at any moment, he looked like that.

He saw the exact moment something changed in his mind, because the emotions in his eyes turned into a wall of ice. “And if you do — If you hurt her in any way,” his hands clenched around the empty space where his holsters usually rested, “if you don’t keep your word and go after her anyway — You won’t like the person I become. And that… that is a promise.”

Frozen and speechless, Bruce couldn’t stop Jason from turning tail and leaving the office as quietly and quickly as he arrived. By the time he made his legs follow him to the hallway, his son was nowhere to be seen.

“Master Bruce?” He turned, finding Alfred standing next to the door, quiet as always. “How did the conversation go?”

“Did you hear us?”

Alfred’s expression was unreadable. He had been unusually somber as he helped the couple prepare a room for Jasmine to rest, once it was decided they would spend the night at the Manor.

“The lack of screaming, while a good sign, made it difficult for me to eavesdrop.”

Jason never raised his voice, but it would have been better if he had. Then Bruce wouldn’t feel like he had messed up again.

He looked so… so angry and defeated. Tired. Weary. He talked about coming back home and being part of the family, but he said it like a prisoner accepting his fate in the gallows.

“Master Bruce?”

Bruce blinked back to reality, focusing on Alfred’s worried eyes. “Yes?”

“How did it go?”

He wanted to say “good”, but somehow his voice wasn’t working. “I don’t know.” He finally managed to say.

Alfred nodded, understanding anyway. “I suggest sleeping on it. Things will look simpler in the morning.”

He was right, of course. He nodded at the butler and bid him good night before making the trek back to the Family Wing of the Manor.

Still considering Jason’s words and the disconnection between his promise and his body language, Bruce walked past Jason’s old bedroom. It should be closed, but the door was open.

Right. They were staying the night.

He almost ignored it and walked past without giving it a second thought, but then he heard a quiet sniffle coming from inside. Was Jason crying? He doubted so, but he still approached the door, peeking inside.

“Bruce.” Jasmine called from inside the dark bedroom. A lamp was turned on, revealing her sitting up, alone, on the bed. Her eyes were puffy and red, so she’d be crying for a while. “What do you need?”

He didn’t want to be in this situation, but he couldn’t say that.

“Just checking on you.” He lied.

She smiled, knowing that it was a lie.

“Well, I am fine. Thank you.” Another lie.

Awkward silence. Jasmine took a deep and fortifying breath and gestured towards the reading chair next to the bed. Probably Jason had moved it from beside the window, where it usually was, and sat next to her before going to talk to him.

“Please sit.”

“I don’t think—”

“Sit.”

It was easy to forget she was the Head of the criminal Underworld of Gotham. That she held power Bruce would never dream of grasping in his own city.

Jasmine and Jason never talked about that part of their lives when they were at the Manor, and she very carefully avoided talking about anything regarding their time together before coming to the city or how they operated in Gotham. She stuck to gentle memories about her childhood, about her brother and vague mentions about picking up hobbies in recent months.

In front of him was the whole Jasmine, he knew. Like the moment before with his son, all pretense was dropped and what he could see was the truth.

In Jasmine, that truth looked cold and hurt.

Bruce walked closer and sat down in the comfortable reading chair, his hands placed on his lap. If she wanted to talk then so be it. It was about time they had a heart to heart.

“We need those weapons.” She opened.

“I know. The League—”

“I speak. You listen.” Jasmine interrupted and lifted her chin, her back completely straight. Bruce wanted to laugh at the gesture since it was all Jason. “We need those weapons and you are going to get them for us. I don’t know how, but I swear if I have to go up there and beat the shit out of every member of the Justice League, believe me I would do it.” She narrowed her eyes.

He held her gaze, letting the seconds pass. As amusing as it was watching her tired visage making vague threats to his colleagues, he was not going to poke the bear and make fun of Jason’s girlfriend.

“I don’t care what I need to do. I don’t care if I have to pass some kind of cryptic test or if I’m banned from operating in the city or if I have to — I don’t know.” She breathed in and out, her hands gripping the sheets with white knuckled fists. “I don’t care how many little dances or how many promises or how much of my soul I have to sell for you to give me those weapons. Believe me I would do it all.

“Do whatever you want with me, but leave Jason out of it.” Her glare was all hers, though. Her teal eyes glowing Lazarus Pits green, the bioluminescence adding shadows to her face that completely changed her expression. “Don’t make him choose between me and you like some kind of immature toddler refusing to share his toys.” She spat. “Give me those weapons and in exchange humiliate me as much as your heart desires, I don’t care. Just—” she let go of the sheets, her eyes dialing back to the dull teal he was more used to “ — Just don’t hurt him anymore.”

Bruce watched new tears gather in her eyes, but unlike Jason, she didn’t even try to contain them. She didn’t acknowledge them either.

“That’s… That’s the deal.”

A strong sense of déjà vu hit him. Did they rehearse this? Some kind of pincer movement with a similar speech? What was her version supposed to do, tug at his heartstrings and pin Jason’s suffering on him?

He wanted to scoff and walk out of the room.

“If you break your word or your only condition is for me to leave the city, to leave him, I swear on my brother, Bruce Thomas Wayne, that there won't be a shadow or bunker in this world that could hide you from me.”

It was a threat. It should be a threat.

Jasmine was trembling. She tried to hide it, and if Bruce were any other person, if he didn’t spend most of his days watching people and analyzing their tells, he would have missed it.

She was terrified. Of her mother, who came back as a vengeful spirit? Of a life without Jason?

He was tempted to smile, but he stopped himself in time.

“What did Jason tell you?”

She blinked, taken aback by his words. “What?”

“Did you guys practice long? They were good speeches, I have to concede it. Yours is a bit over the place, but good enough.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Jason had the exact same conversation with me less than half an hour ago. He didn’t come to tell you?”

He saw it, clear as day. She didn’t know. She looked at the door and then at him, then at her hands that were still shaking. She fisted the sheets again, breathing in, breathing out.

“That idiot. What did he promise you?”

She truly didn’t know. Huh.

“Did he promise to give up his work? That he would be the son you want him to be?” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm and her laugh was hollow. “Of course he did. I don’t even need to ask.”

She folded her legs to hug her knees close to her chest. She looked at Bruce, more tears flowing down her cheeks.

“Don’t let him do that. Bruce, that could very well be the thing that breaks him for good. Living that double life, wearing a mask when he’s with you, burying a part of him... Please, I’m begging you, don’t accept that deal.”

She rested her head on her knees, eyes fixed on him. Her shoulders were tense and her posture was deceptively calm, but he could see her slowly curl on herself as if she were trying to give herself comfort.

“Don’t let him hurt himself like that, Bruce.” There was barely any more fire in her voice. “I love him.” Jasmine smiled, the gesture as weak as everything else in her at the moment. “But I guess it doesn’t matter what I say.”

The switch was subtle. Her eyes stayed on him for a second before straying away; and when they did, her blue glazed over like she was not even there with him anymore.

“Good night, Bruce.” She whispered, still not looking at him.

He stood up, ready to leave, staying a moment to watch this new facet of Jasmine he hadn’t seen before. She was always guarded, quiet, and had this sad air around her that only went away when Jason smiled at her.

Jasmine never cried. She never begged.

And she never looked like this.

Bruce ignored the pinch in his chest, murmured a quick ‘goodnight’ and walked out of the room.

***

Next morning found him looking at his coffee with unblinking eyes. Alfred had already tried to ask what was wrong, but gave up after the third grunt in response.

Bruce watched his own reflection in the beverage, eyebags on his face after spending the whole night unable to sleep. Good thing he didn’t have anything to do that day, because he was ready to drop and the sun was barely rising.

You won’t like the person I become.

There won't be a shadow or bunker in this world that could hide you from me.

He frowned, taking a sip of his coffee. Bruce wasn’t a stranger to his kids threatening him. The echoes of Dick screaming at him in the tumultuous era back before Jason’s passing rang in his ears.

What was new was how… how final they were. How ready to follow through they were — Dick had thrown around threats and tried to act tough, but at the end of the day he always came back. These two threatened him with the desperation of an animal in a cage ready to bite off their own paw if it meant getting free.

But you will help us and you will leave her out of — out of everything.

Do whatever you want with me, but leave Jason out of it.

This is the part that confused him the most. If they had a strategy then why contradict each other so blatantly? Why sacrifice themselves for the other and demand they stay safe? It didn’t make sense.

I’m done fighting, Bruce.

Just don’t hurt him anymore.

Hurt him? He wasn’t—

Well. He knew he was being difficult. He knew that his rejection of his partner was taking a toll on Jason, and he felt so horrible about it. He had been meaning to talk to him about it, and he tried a few times, but it always ended with them screaming at each other.

If Jason could just listen—

I’ll be the perfect little son you always wanted.

Jason’s eyes. Hurt and guarded and his brows furrowed. His hands clenching and his shoulders tense, as if he was bracing for the worst. Even under the sunlight he still saw that interaction in a weird light — why was it such a difficult thing to go back to how things were?

Don’t let him hurt himself like that, Bruce.

What did she know about Jason? They may have spent months together, but Bruce had Jason for years. He knew his son, and he knew the kind of person he could be. Sure, his time in the League and then with Jasmine he might have been influenced — but he could be good, if he tried hard enough.

Bruce looked up when he heard footsteps, hoping he could catch Jason and tell him he would accept his offer. It was the most logical solution, and even if he still didn’t understand why his chest kept being weird when he thought about their conversation; he knew it was best for everyone and that it was the most peaceful solution.

Jasmine was glued to his side, of course, when they walked in. She still looked pale and her eyes were distant, but she had a solid grip on his son’s hand as he guided her to the kitchen.

“Good morning, Master Jason.”

Alfred’s greeting went unanswered as the couple froze in the doorway. Jason frowned a little, and Bruce didn’t miss the slight gesture to place Jasmine behind his back. She also glanced at him without really looking at him, flinching when Bruce lifted his cup to them in greeting.

Alfred cleared his throat. “Breakfast will be ready shortly, the table has been already set.”

Jason’s relief could be tasted in the air. “Thank you, Alfie. Let’s go, darling.”

Jasmine hummed and quietly followed him out of the kitchen.

Bruce sipped his coffee. It was impossible to miss the mood shift. Even these past weeks, when they couldn’t be in the same room without an argument breaking out, Jason never acted so guarded.

Something was breaking. Something was changing right under his nose. Jasmine —

I love him. But I guess it doesn’t matter what I say.

Jasmine had flinched.

He remembered her trembling hands, how raw fear completely messed up her threats. How she looked at him with complete defeat.

Jason had explained before how she tried everything over the table before coming to him, and how broken up she was when they met. He had given a description of the things he found in his own research, but Bruce knew he was omitting some details, probably because they were too private or personal for Jasmine.

He had said that she gave up everything to avenge her brother, and how she had to beg and promise her godfather, a sketchy individual, for the money to pay the job.

Jason also had talked about her nightmares. How she saw her brother being pulled apart again and again by the GIW, by her parents, as she watched. How helpless she felt. There was a lot unsaid, but it didn’t take a genius to understand that Jasmine had many reasons and many people to fear.

And she was terrified of Bruce.

The thought made him stop.

Jasmine was terrified of him?

Is that why Jason was acting like… like this?

I’m done fighting, Bruce. You win, I guess.

Win? What did he win? There wasn’t a competition to win. He just wanted his son back, was that too difficult?

Jason’s voice cracked when he said he would do exactly that. Jasmine had said that it would break him.

Bruce looked at his hands grasping the coffee cup, suddenly not feeling tired anymore.

“Alfred.”

The older man hummed, going back to prepare breakfast for the couple. They didn’t even cross the threshold. They didn’t look at him more than a glance.

“Why do I feel like a villain?”

Alfred didn’t hesitate. “Because you have been acting like one.”

He hadn’t, had he?

It’s just—

He remembered Dick’s worried face. Alfred’s judging frown. Timothy lying to his face claiming homework as an excuse to not go on patrol with him.

Either Jasmine had managed to somehow brainwash everyone into feeling sorry for her enough to look past how she was taking Jason down with her—

Or Bruce was wrong.

About her, about everything.

“What do I do?”

The butler placed the scrambled eggs on a plate just as the toaster pinged and released the freshly toasted bread.

“As far as I can see, you have one last chance to make it right.”

He did. He didn’t have to take Jason’s or Jasmine’s offers, there was another option.

He stood up, taking the cup with him to refill it. As he did, he didn’t dare look Alfred in the eye. “Do you think there’s enough for three?”

The older man chuckled. “Way ahead of you, Master Bruce.” He turned, showing him there was enough toast and eggs prepared for everyone.

***

Jazz contemplated the zeta tube, trying to not get her hopes up just yet. Bruce may have done a one eighty, but that didn’t mean everything was fixed.

Once he apologized and acknowledged he had been a grade A asshole for the best part of a month, he promised to help. No strings attached. No mention to them giving up their life of crime or jabs at Jazz about killing her parents.

Jason had been distrustful for a few days but in the end he accepted it if she accepted it.

They still had to convince the Justice League.

Bruce warned them — he was still just one member of the League, and if the others were unconvinced, he couldn’t just steal the weapons for them. He could vouch and talk about his time knowing her, and he promised he would try his best to help.

Jazz’s relief was evident, guarded as it was. Hope was difficult to come by in their line of work, and she knew the tall task of convincing the Justice League that giving her confiscated weapons to re kill her mother was the right thing to do, as bad as it sounded.

“Are you sure?” She looked up at her boyfriend, smiling at his worried expression.

“I’m positive.”

Only one of them could go with Bruce to the Watchtower, and Jazz volunteered. It made sense — she was the only one deeply entwined with the problem, and she was the one that made the call to kill her parents.

“I worry.” He placed a hand on her cheek, the cold material of his gloves wasn’t uncomfortable at all.

“I know.”

“I want to go with you.”

“You can’t.”

“I know,” he sighed, leaning in to gently place his forehead against hers. He closed his eyes, feeling her presence. “I hate this, but— “

She hummed in agreement. This wasn’t the first time they had this conversation, and having it again in front of the zeta tube was not going to change the outcome. She was going, disarmed, with Bruce.

Jazz trusted Jason, and Jason trusted that Bruce was being truthful. That was enough.

A throat being cleared made them jump away from each other, turning to find Alfred and Dick, with Bruce approaching from the stairs. Dick’s little smile was refreshing after so much pain. He had been quick to like Jazz once he got to know her.

“Ready?” Batman asked, now next to the couple.

Jazz nodded, getting on the tip of her toes to quickly give her partner a kiss on the lips. “For good luck.”

“You think you are going to need it?” He asked, a smirk stretching his lips.

“I just wanted one.”

Both chuckled at the memory of another time, another place, and basked in the cozy feelings.

With a final nod, Jazz turned and joined Batman closer to the gate of the tube, head held high and shoulders thrown back.

Time to make her case.

***

Bruce watched Jazz closely since the moment they entered the Watchtower — maybe still wary about her murder tendencies, maybe to observe her behavior now that she was separated from Jason. Whatever he expected she was not it, since she looked exactly the same as she always did; a little bit sad but determined with the task in front of her.

She was very task oriented, so she didn’t stop for idle chat as they made their way through the Justice League base. Her steps were quiet, eerily quiet, just like his. He still couldn’t brush aside the discomfort of having another person know his techniques when he never actually participated in her training.

He heard her gasp, and turned to see what was wrong.

Jasmine was frozen in front of the nearest window, which gave an amazing view of the Earth from space. From being at the Watchtower so often, Bruce had gotten used to the views and usually just walked past without giving it much thought. Watching Jazz approach the reinforced glass holding her breath made him notice the astonishing view more than he did the first time he set foot in the space station.

He noticed one of her hands went for her neck and fished a necklace from under her shirt.

He had seen the chain before but he never asked about it, assuming it was a gift from Jason or something like that. Jazz didn’t strike him as a jewelry kind of woman, but he wasn’t curious enough to ask about it in case it was indeed a romantic gift from his son.

What an idiot he had been. He acted like he was concerned about their love being toxic but he actually just didn’t acknowledge their relationship as much as he possibly could.

“This was Danny’s.” Jazz’s voice cut him from his thoughts. He approached her and quietly waited for her to continue. “The only thing I could take from— When I ran away, there wasn’t much I could take.” He watched her fingers rub the piece of metal with a hole drilled in it. It was shiny from being rubbed like this many times. “Danny loved space. He had rocket models he put together himself.”

She looked back to the blue planet from the window, her voice trailing as much as her thoughts.

This was the first time Jazz actually talked about her brother to him directly, Bruce noticed. The first time she brought him up when they talked alone. She was usually fine with Jason doing the talking, or with him talking about her past to the others, including her past life back at Amity Park.

But she never talked to Bruce like this. She looked… vulnerable. In a way that wasn’t as broken and all over the place as she was when she tried to beg him back at the Manor.

“He would have loved the Watchtower.”

“Hm.” Bruce didn’t know what to say to that. Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn’t. He didn’t know the kid.

She glanced at him and smiled. “But it is better for all of us that he is not here now.” She put the makeshift necklace back where it usually rested, safe and sound. “Right?”

Bruce swallowed, unsure what would even be the right thing to say in this situation. Was she implying that Danny was better off dead? That he would hate confronting the Justice League? That he wouldn’t like having to kill their mother, who was turned into a wraith?

He nodded without really knowing what he was agreeing to and gestured towards the hallway that led to the meeting room he had prepared. She nodded back and continued walking.

Soon they were at the correct place, and Jazz froze at the door. He watched, waiting to see what she would do. She took a few fortifying breaths and nodded at him, signaling she was ready.

The meeting room was as it always was — pure chaos. The Justice League loved to appear professional and put together on TV, but reality is that sometimes Bruce almost yearned for his Gotham and herding Robin and Batgirl around every minute he spent with the League.

He cleared his throat, calling everyone’s attention.

Jazz’s feet make a bit of noise as she shuffled in discomfort at the looks from all the heroes in the room.

“Hi, Batman.” Clark greeted first with a polite smile. “And guest.”

Someone swallowed.

The others had been roughly briefed about the topic they would discuss that day, and Bruce could already see some of the frowns of clear disagreement. The weapons and technology they found in the Fenton household had been deemed too dangerous to even try to analyze. They were stored safely and untouched next to the other artifacts they keep hidden, just in case.

If he didn’t know Jazz and her situation like he did, he would have joined the ranks of the people against letting her have them.

“This is Jasmine Fenton,” her eyebrows twitched at hearing her real name, but she had agreed that she wouldn’t try to hide anymore, “and you should hear what she has to say.”

Without any other comment he glided towards his seat and gestured to Jazz to begin. No need for pleasantries. With a wraith loose in his city he wasn’t inclined to waste time.

He ignored everyone’s eyes on him. It was unusual for the Dark Knight to blatantly show this support with an unknown, specially when dangerous weapons were involved.

“Hi,” her voice cracked. She cleared her throat. “I am… well.” She ran a hand through her hair and glanced at Bruce, who nodded in encouragement. “As Batman said, I am Jasmine, Jasmine Fenton,” she swallowed hard as she said the last name. “My parents were Madeline and Jackson Fenton, who created all that anti-ghost technology you guys removed from my house about a year ago.”

Bruce could see a bunch of people were already twitching to interrupt her and speak up, ask her more about her story, ask her all the unanswered questions back when they were alerted of the Anti-Ecto Laws and found the destroyed labs.

“My… I need those weapons.” Jazz approached the table and placed her hands on the surface, eyes glaring at the pristine white material. “I knew they would be safe with you guys, it has always been my intention to bury everything, every gun, every device, every research; I knew it would be best if it was stored away wherever the Justice League keeps the doomsday devices and cursed amulets.

“But things have changed — my mother is back. Madeline is back. And those weapons,” she jabbed her finger against the table, making a point, “are the only thing that can stop her. I need you to help me kill my mother again.”

***

Jazz felt spent after defending her case for about an hour and a half. It was hard, and the Justice League loved to get distracted by questions that didn’t matter — what were ectoentities, who did the GIW really work for, who else was involved, how did they die, how did Maddie and Jack die.

No more secrets, she promised. Bruce helped her go through some of the questions since he knew all that information already. She watched as he skillfully redirected the questioning far away from Jason’s involvement in this whole thing without actually lying, offering just enough truth to satisfy his colleagues.

What a hypocrite. Always obsessed with knowing everyone’s secrets but refusing to give his own.

But she promised to behave, so she did, and after reliving the worst years of her life in front of a crowd of judging superheroes, she was asked politely to wait outside for the verdict.

She could still hear them discuss though. Did Bruce forget about her little ectoplasm-related enhancements? Or maybe he didn’t and he counted on her listening in.

Whatever was the case, Jazz paced outside the meeting room as she listened to her supporters and detractors pull apart her words and memories, talking about things she didn’t want anybody else to know. Danny would have hated sharing so much about his secrets, but Danny…

Danny wasn’t there.

Danny was—

“Jasmine.”

She looked up, startled. She didn’t hear the door open. Wonder Woman was there, gesturing her in with a warm smile. Diana had been supportive of her cause almost immediately, with the reasoning that if Batman vouched for her then she trusted her.

“Yes?”

“We have decided.”

She nodded and followed back inside with her head high and her back straight. She had been listening to the discussion go back and forth, but missed the actual verdict.

The heroes watched her intently, some with a slight frown, some with a curious smile.

Bruce was smiling one of his invisible smiles. Jason always said that understanding B’s microexpressions was an art in itself, and by this time she was starting to understand his wisdom.

Superman cleared his throat. “You can take the weapons,” she let go of the breath she didn’t know she had been holding, “but we will supervise and log what you take. And when it is… done,” he made a face, the topic of Maddie’s murder and wraith status had affected him, “you will return everything as it is. Do you accept these conditions?”

Jazz was already nodding. “Yeah! I don’t think I’ll need a lot. Just let me see what you managed to salvage.”

Having decided, the meeting was adjourned and almost everyone left the room as soon as it was declared done. Bruce stayed behind with Jazz, same as Diana, who watched Jazz with curious eyes.

“You have suffered, child.” She said in a soft voice. “I grieve for you.”

Jazz nodded, not knowing how to feel about the comment. Grief? Grieving was for the dead, and she was still alive. For a long while, that had been her problem.

She looked aside, feeling uncomfortable with her thoughts.

“Shall we?” Bruce took pity on her and asked her to follow him towards wherever the Fenton tech was stored.

The walk was long, but she didn’t mind it. It gave her time to focus back on the task and recenter herself after the grating discussion of her past in front of total strangers. She just had to suck it up and power through the discomfort, get what she needed and go back to Jason’s arms and brainstorm strategies with him.

Bruce guided her deeper and deeper into the guts of the Watchtower, sadly away from any windows that showed Earth and the stars.

“Here,” he stopped at a seemingly inconspicuous wall and placed his hand against a panel. There was a beep and the wall opened to show a computer. He typed something on the keyboard and a robotic voice requested a code. “Batman, B01.”

Another beep and the walls hissed before splitting open to show a giant storage room.

He went first, Jazz followed.

The room was floor to ceiling full of different things — weapons, jewelry, paintings, anything you could imagine. Some were easy to guess why the Justice League kept under lock and key, but others were more mysterious in nature.

Finally, he stopped at the back of the room, where a few crates were pushed to the side. They were labeled and carefully cataloged with numbers she couldn't decipher, but probably were some kind of League storage organization.

She did recognize her own last name written on the label.

This was it. Everything that was left of her childhood, reduced to a bunch of boxes.

She chuckled at the situation.

Under Batman's supervision she got to work. After a moment it was easy to ignore his quiet presence and got into the flow of opening a crate and rummaging through the items looking for what she knew was familiar.

Sometimes Bruce asked her questions she found easy to answer — what does this device do, what's an ecto signature, why did her parents use a toaster as a base for that. Jazz got into a comfortable stream of words and memories, feeling lighter as she revisited a past she had been trying so hard to forget. Maybe it was exactly because it was Bruce, and not Jason, who listened that made the detachment of her emotions and her memories work. It was less raw, it was less painful, but she still got lost in the memories and remembered facts that had drowned in the grief for so long.

Soon she made a pile with weapons and devices she knew she would need and aligned with Batman how exactly she planned to use them.

“What is this?” Batman asked with the same neutral but curious tone.

Jazz turned, finding him holding a wooden box in his hands. It wasn't a gun, and it wasn't anything she had ever seen before. She'd think that Bruce misplaced an artifact with her family's stuff if she couldn't clearly see the Fenton symbol burned on the lid.

She took the box and turned it in her hands, trying to guess what it was. Inside something rattled, something made of glass, and she decided against shaking the box just in case.

She opened it.

Inside she found a single glass marble. It was dull and cracked and she could guess it was supposed to be a light blue in color.

Jazz screamed, one hand rushing to her mouth.

She knew what this was.

How?

Why?

Bile rushed up her throat and she barely had time to push the box away from her before throwing up on her shoes.

“Jasmine?” Bruce carefully closed the box and put it on a shelf, but Jazz wasn't paying attention.

How?

How?

“Jazz? Talk to me. Breathe.”

Breathe? She tried to breathe but air wasn't coming. She was hyperventilating. She needed to calm down, she needed to leave, she needed to close her eyes and disappear.

But the box was still there. On the shelf. He was still there. In the box. On the shelf.

She went back to the box, slapping Bruce's hand away. She needed to see it again, see with her own eyes, to feel it.

The marble — the core — Danny's core was still there, in the box, on the shelf. But Danny was gone. They looked for him. They looked so hard for him.

She opened the box and the dull piece of glass greeted her back. She lifted a hand to touch it, expecting it to be cold. One time, Danny explained he had an ice core and that if a human tried to touch it they would be frozen in seconds. He had been excited about it, talking about thermodynamics and ghosts' wacky physics.

But Danny wasn't here anymore.

The piece of rock was warm to the touch.

Danny is dead.

He was dead and his core was stored amongst velvet in a repurposed jewelry box.

Danny is dead.

“I can't feel you.”

***

“They're taking their sweet time huh?”

Jason ignored Dick and continued reading his book, not at all glancing at the zeta tube and wondering if he should start assuming the Watchtower was on fire and Jazz needed a rescue. Bruce promised he would be there for her and Jason believed him.

But it has been hours and he knew how difficult the situation was for his girlfriend. He wished he could be there for her but Bruce could only take one guest at a time and Jazz was the best option and of course, she's a strong independent woman, but still, after everything he worried and—

“Oh finally.”

The telltale rumble of the zeta tube coming back to life was a blessing. He immediately stood up and approached the machine, ignoring his brother's snickers as he followed.

He expected to greet his beloved with open arms, maybe a twirl or two to celebrate her success — because of course he knew she'd be victorious — but he didn't expect to be pushed aside and be left in the dust with a confused sibling and their silent father. Jazz ran directly towards the stairs and disappeared before he could question why she was crying.

He turned towards his next best target.

“What did you do.” It wasn't a question.

Bruce had already removed his cowl. He looked tired.

“I didn't do anything. Calm down.”

“Did the League say no?”

Bruce shook his head at his eldest son. “Agreement was favorable. She can take what she needs as long as she gives it back.”

Jason looked between the stairs and Bruce. Console Jazz or get answers.

“Then what—?”

Bruce brought out a box from somewhere in his cape. Robins still had a theory the cape was some kind of bag of holding.

“From what I could gather,” his expression was very serious, more than the usual, “this box contains what remains of Jazz's brother. It was left behind at the house amongst the weapons so we took it, assuming it was some kind of power source. It… It wasn't.”

He opened the box, showing a cracked little glass sphere. This is all that remained of Danny? And it was with experimental weaponry?

Dick and Jason looked at each other, their minds going to the same places.

***

Jazz had thrown up everything in her stomach and more, and she was past the guilt of ruining Alfred's carefully maintained garden. She hoped the old man understood.

She was hiding next to some bushes right outside the kitchen backdoor. It was the first place she collapsed in after finding a door and it was in the shade and outside and it was all she needed.

It was also quiet and away from everyone, and she sobbed in peace.

Danny is dead.

Danny has been dead and gone for a while.

How long?

Given how her parents had his core in a custom box, she guessed it had been a while, probably since the moment he died. Knowing them like she did, they would have harvested his organs for further analysis.

More bile shot up her throat. She almost didn't have the strength to retch this time.

“Need some water?”

She didn't look up, not wanting to face Dick.

“I came as a stand in. Your darling is being calmed down by Bruce and talked out of looking for your parents' ghosts and… well. You know him.”

This made her chuckle. Jason would descend to the deepest pit of hell and shoot everyone in his way down if a single soul hurt her.

Jazz accepted the offering of a cold water bottle. “Thanks.” Her voice was rough but she didn't care anymore.

Dick hummed and sat beside her, carefully away from where she had thrown up. He didn't mind the smell. Or her pathetic state.

“My brother is dead.”

The words came out on their own, as if a supernatural force dragged them up her irritated throat.

Dick nodded, but didn't say anything. He waited for her to continue.

“My brother is dead and my parents killed him.”

If it was another time, she would have hated sounding so small. She was being silly. Danny died a long time ago, why was she feeling so raw as if it just happened?

She had grieved. She had done her time.

More tears ran down her wet face. She thought she had run out of those but apparently not.

“They tortured him and then kept his core as a trophy.” She drank some of the water, feeling her mind getting sharper as she talked. “No. Not a trophy. It was research.”

It was used. Cracked. Dull.

Dick hummed again and this time she finally looked up.

“They experimented with him after his body was gone, right?”

The man controlled his face well as he nodded. “We think so too.”

Danny was dead, and had been for a long time, but didn't rest.

He didn't rest. And his core was used until there was nothing left of him.

He wasn't dead. He wasn't gone. If only she found him sooner—

“It's not your fault.” Dick stopped her spiraling thoughts. “Your brother's death. Is not your fault.”

“I could have contacted Jason sooner. I could have found his core sooner.”

Why didn’t he understand? Danny was her little brother and she failed him. She was supposed to take care of him and she let him fade.

And here she was, playing superheroes and getting cozy with some guy and trying to fit in with a new family?

Danny would never have that.

Danny was dead.

“But you didn't. You did what you could and it was enough.”

She shook her head. Nothing was enough. Her baby brother was gone.

“I didn't learn about Jason until I was back from a mission offworld. It was weeks. I learned my brother was dead because people told me they were sorry for my loss.”

Jazz already knew this, but nodded in encouragement.

“I… I felt like I failed my baby brother. We didn't start close but I grew fond of him and tried to be there, but I had the Titans and my team needed me more and more. I always thought that the kid was fine without me, that it was fine if I pursued my hero career away from Bruce's shadow and away from Gotham. Until I learned what happened. How Jason died. How Bruce pushed him away. And then I thought ‘If only I was around more, if only Jason felt more comfortable telling me things, if only.’”

“It wasn't your fault.”

Even as she said the words she understood the irony.

“I know that now, but I felt that way for so long.” He smiled, showing his dimples. “It really helped having Jason back, having this second chance.”

“Danny is gone.”

He nodded. “Danny is gone.” After a moment of silence he added: “There won't be a second chance and we can only guess. But from what you told us about him, he wouldn't like you thinking that any of that is your fault.”

She watched him, his calm smile under the sunlight, his strong shoulders. Is this what having an older sibling was supposed to be like?

She tried to speak but only more sobs came out. Dick made the choice for her and pulled her into his arms and flushed against his chest.

He didn't say anything else as she screamed and sobbed for the life she never had, for the brother she wouldn't have back and for the second chance she had been robbed of.

***

“You know, I can try to figure out the portal schematics.”

Jazz looked up from the Fenton insignia on the lid of the box. Tim looked small and unsure, looking at her briefly before averting his eyes.

The kid hadn’t been present for the worst of it, but the others must have told him what happened. He wouldn’t be so careful if they didn’t.

Jazz felt annoyed. She wasn’t going to break if her brother was mentioned. “Why would you do that?”

Tim took her question as an invitation and walked closer, sitting down next to her on the steps of the back porch.

“I read,” he made a face, both knew whose research he had read exactly, “that spirits can be dormant in their core and the right amount of ectoplasm could jumpstart it back.”

Jazz opened the box, proud when her hands didn’t tremble. It’s been a few days and she was still recovering but at least it didn’t hurt to see the little glass core as much as it did.

“Like a car battery?”

The other chuckled. He sounded so much like Danny. “Yeah. Like a car battery. But with ghosts.”

She smiled but couldn’t gather the energy to laugh. “Would you do that for me?”

The kid didn’t hesitate. “Of course! You saved my life.” He said it was a no brainer. “And you are part of the family now.”

If Jazz had the mental capacity to deal with it, she would have commented on the tone Tim’s voice had when he said the last comment — the longing and desire and frustration. She knew the circumstances in which he became Robin and how he felt about taking a mantle that wasn’t his.

But she just couldn’t deal with any of this right now.

“It’s okay,” she closed the box, breathing in slowly, “I don’t think it will be necessary. The world doesn’t need another Fenton portal. One had caused enough grief already.”

She ignored the look in Tim’s face and how he opened his mouth to comment but wisely chose to close it.

“What are you going to do?” He asked instead.

Jazz hadn’t seriously thought about it, but after a chat with Bruce the seed of an idea started taking root in her mind.

“Did it help? Having a funeral, the tombstone, keeping it all after he came back?”

She could see her own face reflected back when he answered. “It helped… for a while. What is harder is what to do after.”

“I think I’m going to bury him.” She lifted the box. “Danny never got a funeral. He was actually never declared legally dead. He was just… missing.”

Missing implies the possibility of him coming back. Missing meant she didn’t have a place to mourn.

She had asked Jason what he thought about his tombstone and he shrugged. “Funerals are for the living.” He had said.

Danny was gone and he wasn’t coming back.

Maybe it was time for her to move on.

***

Killing her own mother should have been a harder task than it actually was.

If it was another time, another place, she would have had a difficult time. Maybe she would have hesitated, or lacked resources or her plans would have crumbled down the minute her target’s erratic behavior overwhelmed her.

But she was not that person anymore.

Jasmine Fenton died when Daniel died. When her innocence was shattered by the same people that were supposed to protect her and her brother.

She had made something new, someone new, with the parts left behind in the destruction. She had become someone who knew how to plan, how to kill, how to pull the trigger when it mattered.

If she was another person, in another time, she would have found the emotional detachment aberrant as she took the shot that ended her mother.

But that was not her mother and she was not her daughter. The cycle of violence had to end.

Jazz was met with her favorite dish and plenty of hugs and a foot massage when she got back home. Jason didn’t ask her, and let her talk as much or as little as she wanted. He hummed or clicked his tongue as the conversation needed, but never stopped listening.

Bruce accepted her bag with the weapons without making a single comment, trusting that she was returning everything exactly as it was supposed to be. He didn’t ask anything, but pulled her into a hug and gave her a pat on her head that meant more than anything he could have said.

Tim and Dick never wandered too far, and helped her with figuring out the plans for the funeral. Her only request had been to plan it after she finished the business with her mother, and they patiently waited until she asked about it when she visited the Manor to give back the Fenton tech.

Jason was there every step of the way.

***

It wasn’t raining the day of Danny’s funeral. A miracle being Gotham.

Tucker had commented that maybe the city was giving her grace on such an important date.

Jazz chose to invite Danny’s friends after a long back and forth. Their parting words had been hurtful and they were completely against what she had done to avenge her brother, but she also felt like they deserved to know. About the funeral, about the core.

They booked the first flight to Gotham and stayed with Jason and her the week before the actual day, getting to know her and reconnect and reminisce about Danny.

They still didn’t approve of her life choices but at least had the decency to behave.

They guessed the whole Ghost and Red Hood thing pretty quickly, not that either of them was hiding. Fortunately for all the parties involved, nobody brought up the Batman elephant in the room, not even when they met the rest of the family.

The funeral was simple and to the point, and a very small event. Only the family and Sam and Tucker were there, who said a few words before Jazz put the wooden box with Danny’s core in the ground.

She didn’t cry during the ceremony. She had already cried enough.

“I still think it’s hilarious that you have a tombstone, dude.”

“What can I say? I dig it.”

Sam groaned while Tucker and Dick chuckled.

Jazz smiled and glanced at Jason’s grave next to Danny’s. It was weathered with time and the elements but you could still easily read Jason’s full name and date of birth and death.

Danny’s chosen death day was a hard debate between Sam, Tucker and herself — the date of the accident? The date when he was taken away? Or the date that Project P-001 perished, according to the GIW records?

In the end, just because Danny would have found it hilarious, they put the date of the portal accident.

Jazz almost jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned, finding Bruce watching her with a worried expression. Well, as worried as his usual neutral face could be.

“I’m okay.” She said, and it was the truth.

She was okay. More than okay — she was content. She had a home, she had love, she had a goal, she had hopes and dreams. She still missed Danny and mourned the life they could have had, but she had so much more than grief and pain inside now.

The clouds parted and sunshine fell on the cemetery, blinding her for a moment. She lifted her face to smile at the sun, basking in the warmth that enveloped her body like an embrace.

She was okay. She was alive.

It’s what Danny would have wanted.

---

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[deitripper]

I was one of the Chilean winners to meet Paul McCartney and go to his soundcheck. My experience.

Well fellas, it's been a long time since i posted here and what can i say, i just wanted to give u the good news! As u read it, i had the chance (next to other people, 9 great fellow fans) to hug paul and share few minutes with him (As i write this all what i experienced feels unreal) I'm the one wearing the sgt pepper's suit btw!

I don't remember too much about the whole day, but the soundcheck was AMAZING, he played temporary secretary, mrs Vanderbilt, Let em in and Coming up!!it was CRAZY. Bf the soundcheck was over we were taken to another place in the stadium where we waited few minutes, and we talked with Stuart Bell (((((i joked a bit with him about he having the dream job and the possibility of k1ll1ng someone to be part of Paul's team and he told me 'HOW!? IT WAS A SECRET I TOLD U! ))))😂 Stuart is Paul's tour manager and we met his photographer and cameraman.

To be brief, let's jump right into meeting Paul, where do i start??? HE'S THE MOST ADORABLE MAN EVER, as soon as i saw him my eyes turned into waterfalls, my heart skipped a beat and all the memories of me binge watching videos and interviews of The Beatles crashed in my head. He greeted all the other winners and i didn't notice i was almost the last one, i was so shocked, too paralyzed to even say something, other winners told me Paul said something like 'Oh darling come on' and i just went slowly as i could to be near him and get a hug. I swear won't forget that moment. I HUGGED A BEATLE LIKE WHAAAAAATTT THE ACTUALLL HECKKK!!!! He share few words with everyone while the cameraman recorded everything. I feel that we were with him like 5 minutes but they -believe when i tell you- FELT LIKE 2 SECONDS. Then we took an official photo with Paul (which i'm kinda sad to receive bc i know my sgt peppers suit was totally hide behind two other girls who won, but hey, i'm in the same pic with Paul and that's enough!!) and lastly i had the chance to show him a bit of my work, i ordered some badges and stickers with my Beatle illustrations that i put on my suit and explained him stuff that i can't remember right now :'( But this is what finally made me lost my mind (internally bc for everyone is was just crying) LISTEN LISTEN, HE SAID MY WORK WAS """IMPRESSIVE""" AND HE TOUCHED THE STICKER WITH THE JOHN LENNON PORTRAIT I HAD ON THE SUIT, HE- TOUCHED- ONE- OF- MY- PORTRAITS AND HE RECOGNIZED THAT IT WAS JOHN READING SPANIARD IN THE WORKS. FFS, as i write this i start to sob. Then in a rush we sang the spanish version of 'Besame Mucho" a.k.a Cha Cha Boom song 😂 and then we all said goodbye as we could, waving, screaming, and in my case, crying hard af.

I really really hope to have a chance too see him in concert again, i know that the chance to be THAT near to him again, a literally walking legend, is almost impossible (as impossible as it feel the first time) i know i'm a lucky girl, and my life changed just having the chance to be in the same room with him. I won't be over this, there's now way this feels less exciting over the years. I was one of the few people that had the opportunity to be to his side -even if it was for a minute- and nothing is going to change that.

I have big dreams ahead, and i hope i'm able to accomplish every one of them. After hugging Paul everything feels possible.

If you like my art, know that i feel more inspired than ever before and i hope u can follow me on this journey🩷

Love, Dei.🩷

Ps, all the winners and i are expecting the video of everything, so as soon i as get it i'll try to share all the bits where i'm interacting with Paul (i hope with my soul that our hug is recorded and that his team doesn't cut that while editing the clips)

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV S2 Ep1 Musings - LDPDL smdh

My daughter Claudia is NOT. PLAYING. AROUND.

I had to giggle here, cuz it just reminded me of what she said in S1:

Claudia will drag Lestat AND Louis each and every chance she gets, bless! 😂

Aaaaaaaand the racists. 😒 Eat ALL of these mofos, YAAAAAS~!

I am SCREAMING at the cinematic poetry--Louis is talking about not burning Lestat, as Lou & Claud can't get warm enough at a fire where they're burning the dead Soviets they just ate.

While Claudia sits there giving Lou the cold shoulder & the silent treatment, icing him out so Louis only talks to himself--I HOLLERED.

My daughter KNOWS!!! DRAG HIM, CLAUDIA!! ^0^

But then I cried, cuz WAIT. If Louis is talking to himself, is this also factoring into why he's seeing DreamStat? Cuz Lou's also desperate for connection, which he can't get from Claudia anymore either! 😭

Louis said DreamStat "came by invitation," as a colorful & vibrant "distraction" (read: comfort) from the dull monochromatic grey Eastern European land. But Lestat is bloodsplattered & filthy just like everyone else.

The question of his guilty conscience: what does Lestat feel/think about Louis? And what is Louis projecting?

That's all Louis wants to hear--that Les misses him and forgives him.

"I'm glad it was you...a la fin." We still need confirmation that Lou slit Les's throat, not Claudia. Cuz this will also point to how much Lou is lying to himself about how betrayed Lestat really felt--that his death would be better by Lou's hands than Claudia's. Is Lou making himself feel better by giving Les the coup de gras, and thinking Les is grateful to him for it?

Cuz he's clearly scared to death that WHEN--not IF--they reunite, Les will be pissed and hate/kill him.

Cuz Lestat's love was what kept Louis alive--Lestat loving Louis saved/damned Louis' life. (The Merrick of it all, istg.)

So it's WILD that Louis thinks this. That the split second Louis finds happiness, the boogeyman Lestat will come and kill him, or take it from him--or just be there as a hallucination constantly reminding Louis of what he left behind.

As an aside:

It was a BAT--that's cute! XD

Louis in denial as he tells himself choosing Claudia over Lestat was worth it. And Dream!Stat chanting "I do" like frikkin wedding vows, then choking on the words/vows as a vampire bat claws out of his throat--I CANNOT with this show anymore.

This is interesting--the 7000 people he killed in Eastern Europe were a necessary evil--Lou calls them "souls," when Les called them "the Meat" and Claudia called them "Kill Juice." And in Paris he only kills once every other day. They ALL feel like murder to Louis. But Louis KNOWS he never killed Lestat!

He put Lestat in the dump the same way Grace put his name on that tombstone--it's the DISTANCE that's killing them.

It's separation & absence, which they HOPE will make the heart grow colder--when we all know that's not how the saying actually goes.

So who are you REALLY fooling, Louis? Cuz it for sure ain't Claudia!

She said "you slow us down!" 💀 But Louis warned you: "I can barely speak French and English. I'd just hold you back.... You don't need me. You think you do, but you don't. You're smarter now. You see trouble coming a mile away." If only they'd've BOTH remembered that bit once they got to PARIS. 💀💀💀

This dude, I swear. No wonder he never joined the Theatre; he can't lie for ish! 😅

And I OOP! 👀

By the end of the episode we get Louis' BEAUTIFUL "You and Me" monologue to Claudia, and she finally accepts his apology and promise that he won't kill himself like Draciana did.

MERRICK COME THROUGH! 😭

Which nearly made me cry when you finally see DREAM!LESTAT SITTING RIGHT THERE. 😭 Who is Louis REALLY talking to!?

As he always does when in denial & running from his problems (all the way to effing Romania, ffs), alcoholic!Louis "runs to the bottle and to bad beds."

I REFUSE.

I CANNOT.

I SHAN'T.

Louis, if you don't stop right this moment ISTG! 😭😭

I love this effing show, omg what a great start to the season!

[simp4pedropascal75]

“I love you” (Joel Miller x Reader)

words: 2.6k

trigger warnings: A LOT OF ANGST, death, sui!cide attempt, it has a “happy ending?”m fluff, reader in his 20s and Joel in his late 40s

summary: you go on a misson with joel, tommy and maria, but things doesn’t go as planned.

s/n: hey guys, i have been inactive for a while now because of school:/, but i hope you like this ff, tell me if it's too dramatic or too much and if i made any spelling mistakes or anything, i'm happy about feedback:)

Enjoy<3

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Joel and you knew each other a long time now. You’re happily married, and you never thought this all will happen, but here you are, laying naked in Joels arms. He’s still asleep, and you just watch him.

He’s so beautiful…, you think.

You don’t get the chance to watch him sleep often. Your eyes wander from his fluffy and messy hair to his bushy eyebrows. Then to his beautiful eyes, which peacefully rest. You look at his nose.

God, his nose.

You bite your lip while remembering last night: you sitting on his face while his nose is buried into your pussy and his tongue-

Okay, stop it.

You chuckle quietly while your eyes travel to his soft lips.

His lips…

You remember feeling these lips for the first time on yours.

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You and Joel first met when he came to Jackson with Ellie. Since you’ve been good friends with Tommy, you quickly got to meet him and oh my god, he was cold as fuck.

You two didn’t got along for the first time and he was mean, to be honest. But since you needed to go on missions and patrols together, you had to deal with each other.

That you and Ellie got along well didn’t made it easier for you.

But after some weeks, you caught yourself staring at him, wanting to know where he is, how he is and feeling a big desire of having him near you.

God, how you hated this feeling. The feeling of being in love with someone, who doesn’t love you back.

That’s what you thought, without knowing Joel already loved you way before you started to get feelings. He was just good at pretending. Ellie definitely noticed it and she teased him.  Oh, and how she did.

But Joel and you got closer. And one time when you two were on a mission, where you two almost died. And in this moment you two realized that life is too short for not confessing the love for each other.

And that’s when he pulled you into his arms and kissed you with all his feelings, he had for you. It was raining, and it just was like in a movie.

After that you began to date, you remember how people judged you because of the age difference, but you didn’t give a shit. And thankfully the people didn’t care after a while too.

After 2 years he proposed to you and two months later you married.

Now it’s already been four months since your wedding and you actually try getting pregnant. You always dreamed of being a mother, but you knew Joels story and expected that he doesn’t want a second child, and to addition, you had Ellie. But one day on your honeymoon, he said that he would try it, for you. And since then, you tried, but with no success. But you don’t give up, and I mean, you can’t complain. Having sex with Joel Miller is…

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“You’re staring at me?”, you hear a raspy voice. It’s Joel and he rips you out of your thoughts. “Well, I had to use my chance, you know”, you smile.

“Pervert…”, Joel mumbles joking while he pulls you into a kiss. You directly feel what his intention is. “No!”, you break the kiss. “We have a busy day today.”, you say seriously while getting up. Joel sighs and you just feel his eyes directly staring through you. “Now you’re staring, old man!”, you laugh and get dressed. “I can’t help myself…”, he mumbles and stands up. You feel his hands on your waist.

Fuck, he’s still naked.

“Joel…”, you warn him while he places kisses on your neck. You almost fall for his touch, almost…

“We promised Tommy and Maria to help them out on their mission, so… nice try.”, you free yourself out of his grip and go into the bathroom. “Get ready now!”, you shout out of the bathroom, and you just hear his annoyed sigh.

Joel’s POV

I’m leaned against the doorframe, waiting for her to come down and ready to go. And then she comes down, with a big smile on her face and she just seems so god damn happy out of sudden. “So happy to see me?”, I chuckle confused while raising my eyebrows. She laughs.

How much I love her laugh…

“Well, no, not particularly about that.”, she answers, grabbing her backpack and walking towards me. “Ouch”, I chuckle, and she places a kiss on my cheek. “I will tell you when we come back.”

Y/N’s POV

Before you go, you take a look into Ellie’s room, where she’s sleeping peacefully. You smile and slowly approach her. “We’ll go now”, you whisper softly while caressing her hand. “Hmh...”, she mumbles sleepy. “Don’t make too much trouble while we’re away, love you…”. Ellie doesn’t reply, she’s asleep again.

We walk hand in hand to the gate, where we meet Tommy and Maria. “Hey there”, Tommy says to me with a smile and hugs me.

“Did you sleep well?”, he teases, knowing you didn’t sleep at all and looks at Joel with a smirk.

“Shut up, Tommy”, Joel says while rolling his eyes and then they greet each other. Maria comes towards you.

“You seem very happy today”, Maria notices and hugs you.

“Well, I am…”, I give her a soft smile.

“Everyone’s ready?”, Tommy asks, and we walk to our horses.

“Always”, you reply, and you feel Joel’s mouth at your ear: “You know, we could stay home and…”

“Joel, no.”, you laugh and wrap your arms around his neck.

“When we get back home, we can do whatever we want…”, you whisper and start kissing him. You don’t realize how long you actually stay there and make out with him until Tommy clears his throat.

“You’re done?”, he asks, and you chuckle.

-----------------------------------------------------

You’re already two days on your way to the hospital to get new medical recourses.

“Okay, how about a race?”, you suggest randomly. “No.”, Joel replies seriously.

“Well-“, Maria wants to answer but you’re already gallop away with your horse.

“Dammit- Y/N!”, you hear Joel shouting and you laugh. You always loved riding, especially with your horse. You feel the wind blowing through your hair and when you see the big, abandoned hospital in front of you, you stop. Joel comes straight after you, followed by Maria and Tommy.

“What were you think-“, you hear Joel upset, but you interrupt him.

“Well, here we are.”, you say out of breath and turn to the others. You feel Joel watching you, but you can’t look at him right now, too distracting.

-----------------------------------------------------

We go through the entrance of the hospital. “Let’s split up”, Tommy suggests. “Or we’re here for an eternity”.

We all agree, and Joel and you get going. You’re walking through a hallway, going into different rooms to search for medical stuff.

“Mad?”, you ask while opening some drawers.

“Kind of”, Joel answers with his rough voice and making sure everything’s safe.

“Gonna’ make it up to you, don’t worry”, you smirk, and you just hear a chuckle from him.

You two search in every stage of the hospital on the left side and thankfully found some stuff. You didn’t meet any clickers on your way, which was kind of confusing and suspicious, but the better for you. You two are on your way back to meet up with Tommy and Maria again.

“How about Ethan?”, Joel suddenly says.

“What?”, you ask confused, looking at him.

“Ethan, a name for the baby when you get pregnant sometime.”, Joel explains, and a slight smile appears on his face.

You heart melts. “Ethan is beautiful”, you answer while placing your hands on his shoulders.

“I love you…”, you whisper and looking directly into his beautiful hazel eyes.

“I love you too, princess”, he caresses your cheek, wanting to kiss you, but suddenly the wall above you begins to shake. “Watch out!”, he says while grabbing your hand and running with you some meters away. The wall breaks down and makes a big hole in the floor.

A hole to the lowest stage of the hospital.

You hear steps, very fast steps and they get louder.

“Runners.”, Joel quickly realizes, grabs your hand, and starts running. A whole wave of runners and also clickers come out of the hole, where the basement of the hospital was and chase you.

You quickly run to the entrance again, where Tommy and Maria are already waiting.

“Watch out!”, you yell and grab your gun while turning around and start shooting.

Everyone starts shooting, but it seems there are just coming more. It doesn’t take long that you all realize that your ammunition gets low.

“They’re too many!”, Maria shouts.

A clicker runs directly towards you, you wanted to shoot but you don’t have any ammo anymore. He jumps onto you. “Fuck off!”, you yell, grab your knife, and directly stab into the clickers head.

“Y/N! You’re okay?”, Joel asks you worried and helps you standing up. “I’m fine.”, you answer.

You’re not.

“Let’s get out of here!”, Tommy shouts and you all run out, to your horses and ride away.

-

After you’re out of danger, everyone gets off and takes a deep breath.

“Is everyone okay?”, Tommy asks, and everybody looks after each other. You get off the horse, pressing your hand on your arm.

“Guys…”, you mumble quietly. Joel turns around, so do Tommy and Maria. You look them directly into their eyes.

“Oh no…”, Maria realizes and gulps. Tommy doesn’t get a word out of his mouth.

“What?”, Joel is confused and not understanding anything. He doesn’t see it. He doesn’t want to.

You show remove your hand from your arm.

You got bitten.

“What… no…”, Joel stutters and walks towards you. “No!”, he yells and takes your arm to stare at your wound. You start to feel dizzy and sit down, leaning against the tree. Joel kneels to you, taking a bandage and pressing it on your arm.

“Y-You’re going to be fine, don’t worry, darling.”, he stammers. You look at him and a tear runs down your cheek.

“Joel…”, you whisper, but he doesn’t want to hear it. “I’m going to bandage you and then we’re going to Jackson, where you get helped…”. He’s denying it. He can’t see it. He can’t accept it.

“Joel…”, you whisper again. “No, don’t worry, everything’s going to be fi-“.

“Joel!”, you shout, and he got quiet. Now he sees it. You see tears in his eyes. Tommy and Maria do too.

It’s quiet. It’s quiet for a long time.

You’re arm begins to shake. You take your gun and realize it only has one bullet left. You look up to Joel, your eyes meet. He directly knows what you mean.

“No, you’re not going to do that”, he says seriously and rips the gun out of your hand. “Come on, you’re strong, we’re gonna make it to Jackson!”, he tries to deny it again. He wants to lift you up.

“Joel, we cant help her”, Tommy mutters.

“Please Joel, I don’t want to turn in one of these monsters…”, you cry, and you feel you slowly how you lose control over your mind. “Please…”, you lay your hand on his cheek.

“I can’t live without you… Please, I can’t do this…”, he begs while tears are running down his cheek.

“You need to take care of Ellie… People need you…”, you whisper.

“But I need you-… No, I can’t!-“, you grab his hand in which he holds your gun.

“Please Joel.”, you whisper and wipe his tears away. “I love you so much, joel…”, you smile in tears.

Joel pulls you into a hug. A long one. You feel the warmth of his body for the last time, and so does he. He places a kiss on your forehead.

“I love you…”, he stands up and raises the gun at you. His hand begins to shake.

“It’s okay…”, you smile softly while a tear runs down your wet cheek.

He stares at you. He sees your smile for the last time. He takes a deep breath and…

He pulls the trigger.

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Joels POV

I walk into our house while I feel how my lungs begin to tighten. I can’t get Ellies cry out of my head when she saw me carrying Y/N’s body. I try to breath but everywhere I look, it reminds me of her. I try to walk up the stairs and go to the bathroom, thinking I’m going to throw up. I fall on my knees in front of the toilet. My vision starts to get blurry, but then I suddenly see something on the edge of the bathtub and I remember the morning before we went on the misson.

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I’m leaned against the doorframe, waiting for her to come down and ready to go. And then she comes down, with a big smile on her face and she just seems so god damn happy out of sudden. “So happy to see me?”, I chuckle confused while raising my eyebrows. She laughs.

How much I love her laugh…

“Well, no, not particularly about that.”, she answers, grabbing after  backpack and walking towards me. “Ouch”, I chuckle, and she places a kiss on my cheek. “I will tell you when we come back.”

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I grab after it, but I don’t recognize what is it, but when my visions starts to get clearer again, my heart stops.

It’s a positive pregnancy test.

-

One months later

I’m sitting on the edge of the mountain, watching the moon. It was our favorite place.

But the moon doesn’t seem very round, I’m drunk. I drink my whole beer and place it to the side, then I take my gun, looking at it.

I think of her, every fucking second. I see her smile, I hear her laughs, I feel her touch and I feel her presence. But everything is just in my head. She’s gone. If I stayed with her in Jackson, everything wouldn’t have happened. I wouldn’t have lost my love… and my baby.

I place the gun towards me, and my hand begins to shake, again.  

I pull the trigger, but suddenly everything freezes. Like the time has stopped.

“Don’t”, you say and take a sit next to me. I look to my side and you’re there.

“Joel, you’re needed here. You still have a purpose to fulfill here. Think of Ellie. She couldn’t handle losing two of the people she loves.”, I hear your voice saying to me and feel your hand on mine. “We’ll see each other again, but not now. I love you.”

I flinch. The bullet directly passes my ear. I flinched, again. Just like I did when I lost Sarah..

Some years later

“Joel, get up…”, I hear Ellie. “Joel fucking get up!”. I can’t reply.

“Please stop… Please don’t do this!”, she shouts.

“Joel please get up!”, that’s the last thing I hear and then everything goes black.

-

I slowly wake up, feeling grass under me. I slowly get up, confused, but feeling no pain. I look around, I’m in a field and in a distance, I see a house with a sheep ranch. “Hey there, old man.”, you say, and I turn around. You run into my arms, and finally, I feel you again. “I missed you…”, I mumble while taking your face into my hands. “I missed you too…”, you reply and then our lips meet.

“Come…”, you smile at me and take my hand, walking through the field towards the ranch. In the distance I see Sarah, she’s waving me. “Come on dad!”, she shouts from the distance, and I smile.

I stop walking, taking a deep breath and then looking at you.

“I love you.”

[dailyunstableeve]

Give me one more chance

After RE 5, Jill disappeared.

Jill Valentine x fem!reader

tw: angst (idk if tissues are needed), gore, blood, sharp objects (anything that can stab you :), ptsd

an: can't get over how hot Jill is on death island, mother Jill needs more screen time, it's not enough for me 😭😭😭 did anyone just think that Jill, Claire and Rebecca are like the power puff girls? The way their outfit colours are. Idk if anyone wrote this idea before but here's mine. Ps, my first re ff

Words count : 2.2k

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It's been years since Jill returned from a mission with Chris, and just disappeared. All she did was a postcard in your mail, telling you she won't be returning, probably never. At first, you don't believe it, even on the postcard, it's her handwriting, there's no way you could have mistaken it. You put yourself in a hopeless search for two years, you have given up, knowing that, no matter how hard you tried to search for Jill, and she doesn't want to be found, she'll dodge you before you know it.

You devoted yourself to training, non stop just to keep your mind from drifting to the days where your life was so much better when you're with Jill. You are furious about the choice Jill made and that anger inside you, helped you survive all the challenges you faced alone.

Went on a couple of missions with Chris, Leon, and the others, sometimes might end up going solo but Chris was worried sick about you. You made it back alive, no matter what, it's almost as if you wanted to prove to Jill that, even though she's not here, you made it out alive just fine.

You learn to move on, thinking your life has gone back to normal, then one day, Jill is reported to the mission, together with Chris. You have no idea about the news until you were training and heard the other soldiers talking about how the mission went, about how Jill is not good with team working, afterall, she's used to surviving by herself. You left the training room immediately just to go find Chris and give a punch on his face.

“Ow, what's that for?” He complained.

“How long has it been since your last mission?” You questioned.

“What?”

“With Jill.”

The mood between you two dropped so quickly.

“How did you-”

“I was training, apparently your boys don't know how to keep their mouths shut,” you cut him off, “if I recall correctly, your mission was two days ago.”

“I just reported in-”

“I thought you were my friend, Chris!” You raised your voice.

“I was just respecting Jill, she asked me to not tell you about it,” Chris answered.

You took a second to process the information, you loosened up your expression, and looked at Chris.

“Oh god, I'm sorry,” you apologised, “I don't mean to just yell at you like that.”

“It's fine, Y/N,” Chris comforted you, “there's something you have to worry about, your next mission.”

“You worried about all the missions I went to, it's not special,” you scoffed.

“I did everything in my power to prevent this but, the high up have given out a mission that needed you and Jill to proceed out the mission.”

“What did she say?” You asked.

“The same thing.”

Sometimes, you just wanted to say how brainless the high ups are always putting their soldiers on a mission that's just torturing. At least, you won't be torture by the infected but your time with Jill.

“I'll do it, it's just like any other mission,” you said confidently.

It's not like any other mission at all.

Jill is currently sitting on the opposite side of you, getting ready. It's weird, she still looks the same as the day she left for the mission with Chris, except, the softness you used to see in her, it's not there anymore, probably because you don't feel the same way as you did before.

“Let's run down our mission one more time, shall we?” you looked at Jill, even if you don't wish to be here with her, but you still need to get your mission done.

“Yeah, sure,” she answered quickly, fully facing towards you.

“Our target is to investigate the area out, there's been multiple reports about the infecteds roaming around the area and our job is to clean it up and look for any clues that could lead to why are the infected there, it's simple, except our lives are in stake, so no reckless move, we stay together, look out of each other's six, anything that seems abnormal, report immediately, don't investigate alone.”

“Got it.”

“Good,” you nodded, then went to check up on the pilot, “we're here.”

The cold chill air brushes through your hair the moment you get off the jet, it's felt like you just walked into a horror movie except your every mission is a horror movie.

It's an abandoned facility, it's always it, because the facility has most of the science stuff to help you create a new virus.

The whole time, both of you didn't say a word because even if it's been years since both of you had a mission together, you still remember her movement, it's more that your action will follow up automatically. Everything goes smoothly, a few infections appear when you and Jill are making your way to the control room, then the experiment room, the storage, just everywhere of the facility.

“There must've been a secret room somewhere, it's impossible for the infected to keep appearing outside the area and yet we only encounter a small amount in here,” you mumbled, you don't like it, just like every other mission you’ve done.

Sometimes when it's too quiet is a bad sign too.

“We should try to split,” Jill suggested.

“Did you forget what I said just now? We stay together,” you scoffed.

“But we are not getting anywhere if we keep sticking together.”

“And I'm not allowing you to risk your life like this,” you looked Jill in the eye, she flinched a little.

Call it selfish, but I don't want to lose Jill again.

But the look on Jill's face shows that she'll stand by her idea of splitting up, it could cover more ground, but it will put the risk on high.

“Fine, we will meet back up at the spot we arrived here,” you sighed.

You watch Jill turn her back at you and walk the other direction, it gives you the feeling of how you found out that Jill had left you with just a postcard that doesn't even have a goodbye on it.

You knock yourself out of the thought and continue walking down the hallway, hoping you're able to discover something that you didn't notice just now.

You didn't find anything but Jill did, so you were on your way to find Jill. Apparently she found a hidden tunnel that's blocked by multiple tables, without letting you know, she went down the tunnel herself. You arrived in front of the tunnel only to find yourself getting crowded by the infecteds, they are getting closer to you, some are even climbing out from the tunnel. If the infected are coming from the tunnel then where's Jill?

Please wait for me Jill. You prayed as you fought your way through the infected.

Just like every times, you thought about Jill when you face upon a challenge that you believe you won't be able to get through it, you remember the rage you felt for her when she left you, and you remember the worries you have on her right now that she could be hurt and you must find her quick.

You saw your opening to slide in the tunnel and went for it. At the end of the tunnel is a hallway, dirty, but the electricity is still working, it doesn't look abandoned, it's just no one cleaning it.

“Jill?” You called, nothing responded but a few infected appeared in your sight. You clear out the infected, and manage to find Jill of all the madness you have to kill just to get to her.

Suddenly, the area's light went off, leaving a guide light on to show where you're supposed to go. You have no other option but to follow, it guides you to a huge room, where Jill is currently fighting her life on the infected that's three times the size of a normal one and Jill is badly wounded. You hold up your pistol and start shooting at it, just to find yourself stupid because normal bullets are not going to kill the monster.

You charged onwards, grabbed a long stick that's in your reach and made a jump onto its head, “no one hurt Jill,” you fired seven shots on its head, went right down for the brain. You've killed it, you did, the monster loses its balance and drops down on the ground, so did you, except Jill caught you only to lose her balance to standing after.

“Jill?” You panicked, and you noticed the huge part of her clothing was painted red, fresh red, “oh my god, Jill!” You put pressure on her wound, “how long have you been bleeding?”

“Before you arrived,” she coughed, you quickly took out the bandages you have with you 24/7 and tried to patch her up, “the one who's in charge of here is chained up in the locker room.”

“I'll send someone to get that person!” I called comms and Chris picked up, “send backups, right now!” You cried.

“Y/N,” Jill rested her hand on yours trying to stop the bleeding, “I'm sorry for everything I've done to you.”

“Shut up Jill, you better stay with me and tell me that when you fully recover!” You cut her off, “I didn't get you back just to lose you!”

“Jill?”

“Jill!”

“Hey hey hey, don't close your eyes now!”

“Goddammit, Chris, be quick please.”

“Jill! Don't die on me right now!”

Until Chris and the backups arrived, it was nothing but your cries for Jill to stay awake, because you don't want to lose her again. You watch Jill getting sent back first as you and Chris stayed behind to clean up the mess, Chris did recommend you to head back with Jill but you know she wants you to finish up the mission, so you did.

You took a proper shower, washing off the rotten smell of the infected is hard, after all, you went on a killing spree on any infected you saw, that's who you have grown to. Kill to serve but only when it's about the infected.

Jill went unconscious for a week, and you stayed by her side the whole time. You want the first one she sees when she wakes up is you, you are but Chris is the first she talked to.

“Has she been here the whole time?” Jill asked.

“Yes, she wants that she's the first one you see when you wake up,” Chris gently placed a big blanket on you.

“How can she be so forgiven? After all these years,” Jill looked at you who's currently sleeping on the side of the bed.

“She still loves you Jill, she never forget the day you left her, she used that to pull herself through everyday, no matter how worse the day is,” Chris left out a breath, “and I want you to know that, it's not your fault that you were controlled by Wesker and what you did after.”

“Chris, don't,” Jill stopped Chris, she doesn't want to talk about it yet.

“I'll just leave you with her then.”

“Is he gone?” You mumbled, you were awake, you didn't get up because you felt like Chris and Jill deserve some time to talk things out, “I didn't want to interrupt.”

“How are you feeling?” You asked.

“I'm fine,” Jill answered, “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” physically, you are, mentally, you are not.

There's so many questions you wanted to ask, but you don't know where to start.

“I'm sure you heard from Chris about the mission where things went bad for me,” Jill could see the question on your face, that's how much she knows you, “I didn't mean to hurt you.”

“But you did, you hurted me the moment you write on the postcard and leave it in my mails.”

“Look Y/N, I know what you heard from Chris and I know you would think exactly how Chris would too, that it wasn't my fault but I hate that I blame myself for that.” Jill tried to explain herself, “I didn't have the courage to come back to visit you.”

“So why did you come back Jill? After all these years, because you being gone from my life all these years made me think that you have found a much better life that I wasn't included in! So why did you come back now, out of all the years you could’ve?” Tears start rolling down your cheek.

You may have told yourself that you have moved on from the fact that Jill just abandoned you, you found a way to live through it but now she's in front of you. The memories you made with her flooded your mind. It made you want to yell at her, cry, scream at her, for leaving you here, when you needed her and she needed you.

“I realise that I can't hide from it forever, that I've left my girl here without a complete answer,” she gently wiped the tears off your cheek, “I'm so sorry for what I've done to you, I know that I'm not worth to be forgiven by you but please let me made it up to you, all those years that I've been gone, please give me a one more chance Y/N,” both of yours eyes meet, you can't tell how much you misses the way Jill looked at you, that's filled with love, and now it's mixture with asking for forgiveness.

“Yes,” you gently hugged Jill, doesn't want to suddenly rip her wound.

“I promise.”

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⭒─⭑─⭒──⭒─⭑─⭒──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

an: death island has done something to me. Well, it's not really all full romance, it brings up the past and I just started it with hoping to write something that's close to call redemption for Jill. Even if she's hard on herself during the movie about what happened at re5😭 I wanna let my girl have some rest

Masterlist

[quartercirclejab]

i have some thoughts about the Dyne sequence in FFVII Rebirth. spoilers for FFVIIR under the cut, and trigger warning for discussion and depictions of suicide

i feel like the way the scene is rewritten goes out of its way to undercut Dyne's agency, and to soften the blow of what he ultimately chooses to do

in the original, he makes reference to Eleanor's voice- the memory of her forgiving nature having become an extension of his own, now at war with his desire to blame Barret for everything that he's lost

in Rebirth, this is rewritten as Dyne being "mad with grief" in a more literal sense, with the scene reframed to imply he's seeing figures that aren't there, and is conversing with them

the decision to tweak his characterization from someone who's been driven to the brink by despair and regret to a more generic kind of cartoonish insanity feels like an attempt to explain away the self-destructive (and understandable) spiral that he's clearly been on since Barret left Corel

the battle itself reflects this, too. in the original, it's a solemn, solitary duel between Barret and Dyne, reminiscent of an old west duel, or the final act of an operatic tragedy. the landscape is stark, and the sudden disappearance of the rest of the party forces a feeling of desperate isolation- the isolation Barret and Dyne themselves surely felt, and which now ironically forces them to fight one another

the way Rebirth handles this starts out promisingly enough. it's still a duel, and that feeling of isolation is still there, but with a distinctly modern twist- with plenty of cover to duck behind and both combatants using their weapons on full auto, it feels less like a climactic western duel and more like the final shootout of a contemporary action-thriller... less "Unforgiven", more "John Wick." it's largely a function of how Rebirth handles the original's mechanics in a more general sense, and i have to say, it works for me. it's more hectic than the original, but the emotion is still there- a fight that runs hot, while the original runs cold

but of course, because it's a modern FF, it couldn't stay an understated duel- it has to be an overlong set piece with a whole second phase, during which Dyne reveals an unsettling new power that is implied to have further altered his already unstable mind

this pushes the battle away from being a somber, clear-eyed fight for revenge and into "Old Yeller" territory- an attempt to make the player feel justified in putting Dyne down

finally, the conclusion of the sequence: Dyne's fateful choice

in both versions, the revelation that Marlene is alive sends Dyne even further into despair, as he feels he's spilled too much innocent blood to be a father, and that Marlene was unlikely to remember him even if that weren't the case. in the original, he's unable to live with the weight of that, and he chooses to jump to his death. in Rebirth, the sudden convenient appearance of a horde of Shinra troopers shakes him out of his grief and sends him flying into a rage, giving him the opportunity to choose a more ambiguous "suicide by cop"

robbing Dyne of the decision to take his own life and instead having it come at the hands of nameless Shinra troopers undercuts the final tragedy of Corel, and the tragic contrast between Dyne and Barret. Dyne thinks that the violence he's committed in the name of vengeance makes him unfit to be a father, and unfit to live, but Barret says himself that he doesn't believe his own hands are any cleaner- the guilt over trying to raise Marlene while fighting Shinra as the leader of Avalanche is a contradiction Barret has been grappling with since the game began, and witnessing Dyne's suicide only deepens his personal crisis. Rebirth's change to the scene arguably reaffirms Barret's belief in the suicidal pursuit of vengeance, rather than causing him to question it, because Shinra has now stolen from him the chance to save his best friend. it's just another tally in the ledger that wants balancing, and another cup of gasoline on the conflagration that threatens to swallow Barret whole

the change also absolves Dyne himself, who had the chance to see Marlene again and try to rebuild his life, but decided he wasn't strong enough to face that challenge. in taking the decision to die out of Dyne's hands, the player's allowed to see him as just another victim of Shinra's cruelty, one who might have redeemed himself if he hadn't been tragically gunned down. a layer of the game's complexity and emotional depth is stripped away

i don't know. Rebirth's take is certainly more cinematic, in some ways, but i wish they'd handled it differently

[hoonshouse]

Heyy, can u pls write jay or heeseung ff hurt comfort? Maybe the reader having an argument with them and they give them the silent treatment but they make it up for them later, fluffy ending pls, thank u sm 🫶🏻

this is mostly angst w a little fluff at the end i hope that’s ok ♡

“Heeseung—“

You’re quiet for the first time in an hour, just staring at him in disbelief. You knew this argument wasn’t anywhere close to being resolved, but something about the way he said don’t you think you’re being a little bit immature stung you. He doesn’t usually talk so harshly to you. Sure, he could’ve said worse, but that doesn’t change that what he did say was making your heart ache and not in the happy, lovesick kind of way.

“I’m going to take a walk. I need some space.”

Heeseung’s eyes are all over you, scanning your face and body language to see what just happened—what just went wrong. He starts to say your name, but he lets it die down on his tongue and he lets you walk out the door.

He hasn’t stopped calling and texting you since. You’ve been ignoring him, and you know that’s not the “mature” thing to do, especially when you can tell he’s worried by the tone of his messages, but the larger part of you doesn’t care. You’re too hurt to stop yourself from causing more.

I’m so sorry, y/n.

I never should have said that.

I didn’t mean to hurt you.

Please just tell me you’re safe.

All unanswered.

You take your time making it back to your apartment, entering it silently and walking past a pale-faced Heeseung to your bedroom where you plan to go right to sleep. “Y/n,” Heeseung calls softly as he pads towards your room with you, his voice sounding dejected. “Y/n, please just look at me, baby.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek before begrudgingly turning to look at Heeseung. His eyes are round, pleading, and his pretty lips are parted like he’s witnessing his life instead of living it. He’s watching the crash.

When Heeseung realizes you’re not going to just turn your back to him again—that you’re actually giving him a chance—he drops to his knees, taking your hands in his. You sit down on the edge of the bed, looking into the eyes of someone that loves you so much they’re willing to quite literally put you above themselves.

“Baby, I’m so, so sorry.” He kisses the mess of your hands in his palm and holds them to his cheek as if they might disappear any second. “I should have been more careful with my words. I never want to hurt you.” He sighs and presses many more kisses to your hands.

“Heeseung, you know how much it hurts me when it feels like you’re discrediting my feelings.”

“I know, baby. I know.” He frowns and moves your entanglement of hands until one hand of fingers is laced through yours. His eyes are genuine as they stare into yours and the sadness reflected back to you makes you feel sorry for him and for you. “I got frustrated and I was careless. I hurt you and I’m so sorry.”

You wipe away the single tear that pricks your eye and exhale heavily, free hand finding Heeseung’s soft hair. “I love you, Hee. I know you would never hurt me on purpose.”

The pretty stars are back in his eyes, easily outshining the pain that was there before. Heeseung wraps his arms around your waist and pulls, head resting on your thighs as he hugs you to himself. “Never, baby. I promise.” He turns his head till his lips are on you, innocently littering your thighs with kiss after kiss in thanks.

You can’t help but giggle at his display of gratitude, laughing even harder when his hair tickles the smallest bit of exposed skin and when he nuzzles his head playfully against you.

The next time he looks back up at you, he’s grinning from ear to ear, eyes soft and adoring. You can’t help but think that that look tells you more about his heart than a few frustrated words ever could.

cr. cafekitsune for dividers ♡

[koipepo]

Hi! I really love your art (especially the whump). I tend to skip over the noncon stuff because I get bad intrusive thoughts but I am really curious about why you indulge in it? If you’re not comfortable saying totally get it, once again just curious.

Hey thanks for liking my art! And also for being polite abt the parts you don't like :)

I like noncon because i like seeing my favs in terrible sexual situation... to put it blatantly. If it's noncon of random characters that i'm not attached to, I won't even give it a second thought. Terrible situations give me insight and chance to dive deep into character's unmasked fears/insecurities, and into the terrible dynamic between the abuser and the victim. Also a great precursor to heart-wrenching drama!

If you want more TMI, i guess it's because i have many conflicted feelings abt my status as a woman trapped in tradcon society and how inescapable the danger of SA in the world of AFAB, and that over the years you're forced to look at yourself in objectifying way just to avoid pain and judgement) (and even then it doesn't guarantee your safety).

So ofc my brain does what it does best; twisting something im afraid of, and project it onto my fav characters who's usually male, hence creating safe distance where i can pour out all that anxiety and disect it from afar without being hurt. I think this fantasy is literally the only place i can detach from the burden of being woman and the fears of being one completely.

That said... Liking noncon isn't something terribly out there, in my fandom experience. I'd say my version of noncon is quite tame in dead dove meter. No gore, no tearing, minimal blood etc, im quite vanilla lol.

Maybe now it feels surprising but the rise of puritanical antis in late 2010's are much newer than noncon tag. There were-still are-so many noncon fics in AO3, and i remember way back seeing noncon fics across various fandoms in FF net. It's nothing new, in short

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

Hello, I was wondering if you hand any fics about Peeta being a single father? Thank you :)

Hello @4fix!

Thank you for this prompt! I've added this to future masterlist topics. Hopefully some of these are new to you! Happy reading!

All I Know-JLaLa (ao3) Summary: “That is your mother, Katniss Everdeen.” Katniss and Peeta reunite under the most difficult of circumstances. All the President's Men-authoresskika (ff) Summary: Panem AU; When a scandal puts the oppressive Snow administration in its political grave, young, charismatic District Twelve representative Peeta Mellark is thrust into the role of President. As he and his staff struggle to serve a troubled nation, Peacekeeper Katniss Everdeen keeps a watchful eye on the only thing Peeta loves more than his country. All the While-itsmorgan (orphan_account) (ao3) Summary: Nearly fourteen years after the death of Katniss' father, she returns to her hometown of District 12 and almost nothing is different. Almost. be wherever you are-callmeshakesqueer (ao3) Summary: But she has to see him again. Swinging the door open, she gasps, met with Peeta whose fist is raised in the air, ready to knock on the door. “Did you forget something?” Katniss asks, a voice full of hope. “I did,” Peeta chuckles. “Your number.” OR Katniss Everdeen's POV of exchanging houses with a stranger from the internet as she tries to run from her past... only to find Peeta Mellark, who makes her brave enough to face the old demons and accept some things end for other things to begin. Breathe-chele20035 (ao3) Summary: A tragic accident leaves Katniss a precious gift, her niece Abby. Moving back home gives her a new life full of second chances as she meets her old love, Peeta Mellark. Children Work Fast-Vitya_Viktorie (ao3) Summary: Meeting Peeta’s tiny bundle of joy (and spawned from the devil himself) has never felt such like a blessing until months later when Katniss finally sorted her feelings and admitted that she wanted to be a part of their family. Coming Home-lizzyvb (ao3) Summary: When he finds himself as a surrogate parent for his orphaned little sister, Peeta will have to face the ghosts of his past, and the girl who broke his heart, to find that, sometimes, home is not a place, but a person. Dandelions and Daisies-JHsgf82 (ao3) Summary: (AU) Peeta is a loving, single father who’s vowed it’ll always be just him and her, but as his daughter gets older, he questions his ability to raise her on his own. A move brings changes and new people into their lives, and the more his daughter raves about her, the more Peeta is unable to contain his curiosity about his daughter’s teacher, the mysterious, seemingly aloof Miss Everdeen, who always seems to be there for his daughter when she’s in trouble. Dispatches from District 12: Chapter 43: Small World-Xerxia (ao3) Summary: Modern AU. From the Tumblr prompt: I wish you would write a fic where Katniss and Peeta are both single parents. Rated T. Endgame-hutchabelle (ao3) Summary: Katniss thought Peeta was her endgame until he married someone else. How long will she wait for the man her body craves?

As always, if you have any questions, comments, or suggestions, please feel free to shoot me an ask!

[dicegoblinstreasures]

I actually don't mind that Twisted Wonderland isn't as dark as it could be.

I love the wholesome vibes it has, it deals with dark topics, yes, but in the end it is a story about hope and redemption.

It is about how those dark negative feelings you have are not you. They are a part of you, but not "whole" you. And you can be better with people who give you a second chance. People who understand that life isn't black and white. Life is a journey. Everyone makes mistakes, let's their negative feelings get the best of them. But what matters is what you do after it all. And what helps a lot is to have people around you who give you that second chance, help you grow to be a better person and look after you. So you can do the same for them in the future.

Twisted Wonderland gives me Kingdom Hearts meets Persona 4 feels. And I love it wholeheartedly. Those characters have become my friends, like the characters from my favorite games (FF games, Persona 3 especially) and I can't wait to experience more stories with them.

I love dark stories. Dark topics and how stories navigate them. But I'm a biggest sucker for stories that give hope. That when you finish that story, you have been left with this warm and fuzzy feeling and eagerness to keep on living after all the darkness and rain.

[gunophilia]

Hello! Not a question, sorry… Just wanted to say that Exposure is quite literally the best fanfic I’ve ever read, so thank you for writing it! And I’m sooo excited for the continuation! (Although don’t feel pressured or anything! Take your time!)

Also you wrote in a reply earlier that some people don’t like this fic since it’s so heavily “Nathan-centric” but to me that was the BEST part. And that’s why I’d always recommend this fic because I think Nathan deserved to be much more fleshed out in the game but for obvious reasons he couldn’t have been… However in Exposure I love that you did what the devs couldn’t: give Nathan an ACTUAL story, actual feelings and actual persona—and perhaps a chance at redemption.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that even though this is a Grahamscott ff the reason it got me hooked years ago was because you did such a fantastic job at writing Nathan—and all of the other characters. I feel like he’s so hated in the fandom, which I’ll just never ever understand—did these people not play LiS through the end? Yes, Nathan did bad things, however everyone seems to forget that he was barely even in control of himself, his actions. I personally never disliked him: if LiS taught me anything it was that no one is what they seem to be. And Nathan is so damn misunderstood in the fandom by so many people, it frustrates me so much…

Anyway (God, why did I write so much, sorry…) I finished my reread of it today and I still only have praise for Exposure. :)

Thank you so much! (I don't mind receiving long asks btw, they're fun to read)

Nathan's treatment in the narrative and by the fandom was one of the main reasons why I started writing this in the first place. I fully hated Nathan in my first playthrough of Life is Strange, until the twist in the second to last episode.

I find his character super interesting and multi-dimensional. It was really upsetting how he was written off by the devs after the reveal of Jefferson as the twist villain.

I wish we had learned more about him in the game, but alas. That's what fanfic is for. If he had been more fleshed out I may not have written Exposure, so in a way, it's good that they didn't say much about him. It opens the door to many headcanons and fanworks.

I just wish the general fandom was more receptive to works that explore his mindset and personality. People tend to assume that if you enjoy a "problem" character, it means you agree with them or think they did nothing wrong. I just think they're neat.

People assume that he raped Kate and are quick to point that out. I personally don't think he did. The game wanted the player (and Max) to believe that, so I don't blame anyone for believing it. The twist near the end of the game opened the door for me (and others) to question that assumption.

Sorry this got long. Thank you for reading my fic and writing this ask.

[itsraven0v0]

YANDERE!KARUSER HCs

Note: as i said before, im terrible at writing yanderes. its mostly because im not a huge fan of it?! especially with characters i think would never fit in the role and Krauser is one of them. HOWEVER in a different timeline maybe, he'd make one hell of a f*cked up yandere.

i devided this into two sections (pre!javier krauser and post!javier krauser). enjoy~

comments and feedbacks are always appreciated:>

. PRE!JAVIER KARUSER .

you two met on one of his day offs when he was doing his routine jog and now he is EVERYWHERE!

like you can even see his iconic slicked back blond hair from the corner of your eyes.

you aint getting rid of him, you also aint getting a confrontation either!

i think back then he had more fucks to give so he kinda wanted to play it safe and approach you little by little

but when you where walking home alone one night(ffs dont do that) you got yourself in danger and then boom! this man appears outa nowhere and starts kicking their asses.

well that caught your attention and made you wanna give him a chance. what could go wrong, right?

oh you fool...

you aint getting outa his house anymore.

im pretty sure he has a single cabin in the woods that he has for the day offs he gets, so good luck runnung away.

not that you could if it was an apartment anyway.

this guy will hunt you down and drag u back. you will be his little canary or some shit.

. POST!JAVIER KRAUSER .

oh boy...

unlike the previous version, this man is too tired to give a fuck about playing it safe.

you two met at a bar where he was drowning himself in self-loathing and alcohol.

and as your obsession with military men with scars on their faces (and the alcohol) kicked in, you thought what better than to help him. right?! ahah...

look i aint judging you, thats literally me. ok??

you helped this man get his ass home safe from the bar and guess what? he was drunk and invited u in and u TOOK IT!

you helped him lay down, took his injured hand when he was having nightmares, made him coffee and everything OF COURSE HE WAS GONNA FALL FOR YOU!

your soft hands felt so good on his when he woke up only to see you fallen asleep besides his bed.

you appeared like an angel in his miserable life for a moment and from that morning he gave everything just to have your soothing presence in his life.

but soon this turned into something alarming.

he would confront you all of a sudden like: "be with me."

and if you refuse? well you can't. this man can turn on threatening mode real f*cking quick and this terrifies the sh*t outa you.

he'll keep you like a pet. attend to you good and make sure you are okay and happy but he also thinks the moment you walk outa his door smth is gonna take you away from him so say goodbye to outdoors.

he is so sad please be nice to him...i mean he technically gonna take away all your freedom but did you even have any to begin with?

enjoy you life with him while it lasts. and also enjoy knowing nothing about him. also enjoy meeting Wesker :D

that mf can and WILL pay u a visit just to scare Jack into doing what he's asking of him.

one day you ran away just to find out what he has been doing, who is he and who's that asshole that wears sunglasses indoors. And you saw smth that made you heart race in both fear and attraction(you weird f*ck! dw me too)

there he was testing his las plagas form. all monstrous and bloody. you took a step back in fear and the sound made him spot you. man he was terrified you were gonna run away. but nah!

you into that so you stayed.

you are gonna be so sad when he dies...

you think u can prevent that? try your best!

whooowhi!

thats the most yandere yall are gonna get outa me. hope that satisfied you anon who asked that.

ALSO i might wanna start a second page to write about other stuff [like mortal kombat :D] so i'll share it here too.