#jazz knows this and wants to use her anger to do something good

[roses-and-revolutions]

Jazz, for some reason or the other, becomes a wielder of a red lantern ring. After going on her rampage and getting her revenge, she realizes that the feeling of rage won't go away. Instead of letting the anger destroy her, she decided to do something else with it.

That's how we end up with a stand-off between Hal Jordan and the most powerful Red Lantern he's ever seen. Because...

"What... what did you just say?"

The young woman smiled gently at him. He would've been fooled by it if not for the burning rage carefully hidden... No, she wasn't hiding anything behind those turquoise eyes. It was taking everything she had to hold it back.

"I said that I would like to join The Justice League." Her voice was soft and velvety. Comforting in a way that sends chills up his spine.

"But you're a Red Lantern."

There was a beat of silence, she cocked her head to the side while looking at the blood-red ring on her finger.

"I don't know what that means, but I'm guessing it's got something to do with this ring?"

Hal didn't respond but she took it as confirmation. There was silence between them once more before Jasmine sighed and continued.

"I feel angry, more than angry. This rage that I've been holding inside for so long has reached its limits and is finally bubbling over. Everything that I loved is gone so killed what took it away from me. But... but I'm still SO FUCKING ANGRY!"

She was screaming now. Tears of rage and sadness rolled down her cheeks as violent red energy radiated from her being. Hal flew back. He didn't want to fight her but was ready to do so if it came to it.

Just as easily as she lost it she pulled herself together, wiping her tears away, returning to her previously calm demeanor. It freaked Hal out.

"I... I know that blind rage without direction leads to meaningless destruction. I don't want to hurt anybody. No... I don't want to hurt the wrong people. I'm asking you to guide me, to guide my rage in the right direction... Please."

[snaileer]

Call to My Bedside

When Danny wakes up with shackles around his wrists and chains pinning him to the wall, he’s not all that surprised to see his mother in front of him.

And no, he doesn’t mean Madeline Fenton, although he wonders if he’d be surprised by that either and really, what does that say about his life?

But no, he’s not all that surprised to be staring into the eyes of Talia Al Ghul right now.

Even if his heart stops at the sight of her.

Immediately, he tries to stand, shoulders pulled painfully behind him as he tries not to let her loom over him.

This is a woman he barely remembers, through no effort of her own, but that’s what happens when you left a kid to be trained by strangers before he’s whisked off to America against his will at age 5.

Really she was lucky he remembered her at all.

She crouches down slightly to make up for their height difference, face softening too quickly to be real, “I am Talia Al Ghul. Though you may not remember, you are my child-“

“I remember.” Danny cuts her off, trying to keep the anger from making his eyes glow. He does remember, he remembers enough to know that it would be dangerous for them to know he has powers.

He settles for glaring at her.

For a second it seems she just watches him, but the kindness drops from her face as she straightens.

The slap catches him hard enough to jerk his head to the side, chains rattling behind him as he unsuccessfully tries to catch himself.

Instead, they go taut behind him, leaving him to jerk sideways, breath rough by the surprise of the hit.

“Do not interrupt me, child.” Her voice rings cold in the air.

Danny doesn’t bother to lift his head, instead keeping his eyes pinned to the grimy floor. Had he forgotten how unforgiving this place was? What it was like?

“Look at me.”

Danny kept his eyes downwards. He didn’t want to look at her. He wanted to go home.

“Look at me, or suffer the punishment,” She said, voice steely.

He slowly lifted his head, eyes meeting hers.

“Good. You know who you are then, child? What place you are meant to hold in this world?”

Danny doesn’t answer, only glaring.

She barely blinks but her eyes sharpen in warning.

Danny grits his teeth, “I’m Danny al -Al Ghul, heir to the Demon’s head of the League of Assassins-“

The second hit is just as hard, but Danny is better braced for it.

“Your name is Danyal Al-Ghul, you are my blood and the blood of Batman, your heritage dictates a higher quality of discipline than this and you will show it.”

Everything in Danny’s being rebels against the name. He hasn’t been Danyal in years. And he refuses to go back to it.

He straightens his back, ignoring the ache of his shoulders as he snarls at her, “My name is Danny, Danny Fenton. I haven’t been your precious heir in years, and you can’t make me now.”

They couldn’t and he wouldn’t let them, not when he had the power to-

Talia idly pulls something from behind her and he feels the blood drain from his face.

It’s a picture of him, Tucker, and Sam, next to it is a larger grid of images, each making his heart drop further in his chest.

Sam. Tucker.

Jazz. Mom. Dad.

All of them in cells. Chained.

Hurt.

His family, his family-

“Did you think we would not know of your gifts? Would not know how you would think to leave us? You clearly do not remember as much as you think you do.”

Danny can barely hear her over the static rushing in his ears.

She grabs his face roughly, “We are the League, child, and you are one of us. You may have thought you were like them, but we are better. Meant for better, and you will not be allowed to squander the gifts bestowed on our bloodline through you. Until you can make the right choice yourself, as your blood, we will make them for you.”

Danny looks into her eyes, the certainty behind her words, and he feels a gaping emptiness open inside him. The kind that knows it’s not going away.

He wants to go home. He wants to see his family, and his friends. He doesn’t care that his parents don’t know his secret, that he’s just barely getting a handle on it himself, he just doesn’t want to be here. Not again. Please, not again.

Talia releases him, and he lets his body droop, sinking into himself as he crouches over the ground, the restriction of his arms keeping him from even fully curling around himself.

“Remove the chains, he will not be going anywhere,” Talia says, her shadow falling over him in the dim light of the doorway.

Danny barely moves as the cold metal falls away from his wrists.

And he knows she’s right.

He won’t be going anywhere. Not as long as his family is in danger.

—

The first months were hard. Harder than Danny remembers. Maybe his five-year old self had just had it easy.

He doesn’t now.

“Again!” His instructor shouts, bamboo staff coming down on the back of Danny’s knees.

He doesn’t let himself stumble. Not anymore.

At least his Arabic is getting better, he can understand it completely, as if he’d never forgotten it -as if it’d been his mother tongue- and he can speak it smoothly again, though shallow. You can’t even hear his American accent anymore.

Danny hasn’t spoken English since that first week, when they’d beaten it into him every time he’d tried.

When they’d beaten him for not understanding fast enough. Not reacting fast enough, not responding fast enough, to a language he didn’t know, hadn’t known for years now.

They’re right about one thing.

Pain is an excellent teacher.

“Again!”

He moves fast enough to dodge the bamboo stick this time, body shooting forward against his opponent.

Dodge, lunge, feint, block, swipe, block, block, block-shit-block, reach-

His back slams against the stone floor of the courtyard, knocking the breath out of him.

The instructor doesn’t step in. He won’t.

Not even when his opponent’s hands clamp around his throat.

Danny struggles, trying to use his inhuman strength to pull the arms away, but that inhumanity has waned since he’s been here, drained like the rest of his energy.

He feels the weight begin to build in his skull, he can’t breathe, he doesn’t have much longer, what can he- Danny forcefully moves his arms away, fighting instinct, instead pulling his legs up and rolling, just as they’d drilled into him, the change in leverage giving him the break he needed to be free as he stands-

The bamboo slams into his back, knocking him forward, “Again!”

Danny rolls with the momentum, ignoring the new throbbing in favor of dodging his opponent’s grappling fists.

Dodge, lunge, dodge, swipe, dodge, dodge, hit, swipe, block, forward, dodge, block-

Danny breathes through the sweat dripping down his skin, the way his ribs creak with every breath, the way his muscles feel numb and disconnected. None of it matters.

He just has to win.

He doesn’t have any other options.

He never did.

Not really.

This is why they brought him here.

Why he was born.

He has to win.

Danyal twists the arm of his opponent back until there’s a sickening crack.

“Again!”

A new opponent flies towards him with fists already raised.

He doesn’t have any other option.

He never did.

——

The next time he sees Talia is just before the ceremony to his next stage. She is waiting in his room when he walks in.

“Mistress,” He greets, bowing his head, feeling phantom pain bloom on his cheeks. It’s the only thing that makes him call her that.

“Danyal, your training is going well,” She says, voice idle in that meandering sort of way. This isn’t why she’s here.

“I will improve,” He says anyways. Because he knows he’s not meeting their standards yet, knows they’re disappointed by the heaviness in his bones that weighs him down and drains his energy.

She stands, making Danny go stock still as she approaches, featherlight touch on his chin as she tilts it upwards.

English drifts from her lips, “You have his eyes, his cheekbones…” her eyes drift down again, and it still doesn’t feel like she’s even really looking at him, “My chin and my jaw…not like Damia-“

Her hand drops.

Danny can’t figure out the change but he can feel it. Hesitantly, he asks, in Arabic still, “Talia, why… are you here?”

The steel returns.

“The bat is dead. You are the last of his power,” She says, then pauses. She seems torn about saying more.

She doesn’t, exiting silently as Danny stares into the air, unmoving.

His… birth father… was dead?

A man that was a great enough warrior to impress the Demon’s Head. Impress Talia.

A man… he didn’t even know the real name of.

It’s not like the Bat was anything more than a name to him.

A name he had to live up to.

Danny sighs and turns to his drawers. He has a training ceremony to prepare for.

——

Danny doesn’t resist the arms that hold him back as they swipe a broad slash across the skin of his back with the whip, simply letting himself curl inwards around the pain before he’s dropped unceremoniously to the ground.

He pulls himself back up just soon enough to see the next person dragged in and thrown in front of him.

The handle of the blade is pressed into his hand.

It wouldn’t be hard.

It should be hard. Right?

Killing a man whose crimes he doesn’t even know should be hard. It’s meant to be hard, right?

Danyal wishes he doesn’t know how easy it will be to fall into it.

But he can’t keep doing this. Collecting scars because he’s clinging to morals that aren’t even his.

He can’t keep doing this. He can’t keep doing any of this.

He has to.

Danyal slices the edge of the blade across the man’s neck.

The cut is clean. Deep.

He’s dead in less than a minute.

Danyal’s own blood continues to flow.

——

Danyal doesn’t know what’s happening. One minute he’s training, trying to push past the exhaustion lining his bones, and the next the entire west side of the courtyard is in flames, crumbling down the side of the mountain.

Danny runs through the rubble of the passageways, searching for the source, searching for reasons, searching for… he doesn’t know, but he knows he can’t be caught doing nothing.

He doesn’t find anything except ruins.

Danny is called to meet Ra’s Al Ghul two weeks later. His grandfather. The Demon’s head.

The man doesn’t even look at him.

Danny stays kneeling all the same, better safe than beaten again.

“Are you familiar with Red Robin?”

Danny inclines his head, just barely, “I… can’t say I am…Great One.”

The following hum is derisive.

“He is one of the Bat’s… followers. Recently, he has proven himself to me. His ruthlessness is impressive, his ability to pursue his goals: admirable. He would make the perfect heir,” Ra’s says and he must know it makes Danny’s heart drop, why else would he say it, “Do you know what Timothy lacks, Danyal?”

Danyal stays quiet, eyes tracking the grit of the floor.

After a pause, near silent footsteps enter his vision, “You are the culmination of his mentor’s blood and my own, blessed with the gifts of the Lazarus pits, and yet-“ the cape swirls as Ra’s turns away, “Yet it is squandered by the mistakes of your upbringing!” He yells.

Danyal clenches his fists, willing himself silent.

The air of the room falls level again, “I grow tired of your mediocrity, Danyal. You will advance, or I will stop wasting my resources keeping your baggage alive.”

Danny’s head whips up before he can think better of it, meeting Ra’s Al Ghul’s eyes where they stare down at him.

“Do not mistake my past grace for mercy, Danyal. Mercy makes men weak. There is no room for weakness, and we are here to purge it from this world. Do not forget that.”

“Of course, Great One.” Danyal’s heart pounds in his ears, fear jumping across each beat sporadically, “I will do better.” He tries to fill his voice with confidence.

He’ll do better.

He has to.

Ra’s looks at him, then turns his back and waves a hand dismissively, finally allowing Danyal to stand and leave.

He feels Ra’s’ eyes on his back the entire time as he leaves. And no matter how much he wants to, he doesn’t stop in the hallway. Even once the door is closed, he continues forward.

In his mind, Danny stops and heaves a breath through the grief crashing over him.

In his mind, Danny is a million miles away, at home, with his family around him, happy and safe.

In his mind, Danny rushes back into Ra’s al Ghul’s grandiose throne room and attacks him with the sword he’s forced on him, not stopping until he’s free or dead.

In reality, Danyal breathes out with false calm and moves on.

He has training to get to.

——

Danyal can feel the pressure of the Leagues- of Ra’s’- expectations pushing down on him.

It’s not new.

But he doesn’t let it weigh him down anymore. He doesn’t have that luxury.

Instead, he uses it to push himself harder, farther, pushing until he reaches those expectations.

And surpasses them.

And keeps going.

He won’t-can’t stop. So he keeps going.

Moving up, learning, training, getting better, faster, getting stronger.

Getting weaker.

Danyal ignores the strained whisper of his core in his chest in favor of aiming at the target in his scope.

An Ethiopian politician, making a name for himself by drafting new acts supporting the build of a dam on the Nile River.

It would endanger the lives of thousands in Egypt, cutting them off from the water that has flowed through their country for millennia.

It would never make it through the legislative ruling without him.

This is their duty. To cull the disease. To burn away the parasites killing the world. The ones feeding off excess.

Danyal pulls the trigger and starts packing the gun away.

His hands move with robotic precision, even without his guidance. No, his eyes and his focus are elsewhere.

Instead, Danny stares at the newspaper laying damp on rooftop gravel, eyes scanning every detail, every line.

May 7th of 20XX. Over a year.

Alien invasion recently. Superman.

New hero in Russia.

Multiple car crashes in Pakistan. All survived.

None of it really matters to him, not really, it doesn’t tell him anything interesting, nothing he needs to know. It’s not even an American newspaper.

But…It’s the closest he’s come to freedom in so long. In almost two years.

Is it bad that what he calls a taste of freedom is knowing how long it’s been since he’s been free?

The rifle case clicks shut beneath his fingertips and he stands without so much as a lingering glance at the newspaper.

Danyal leaps off the roof, scaling down the side, ignoring the way his legs want to collapse beneath him as he lands in an alley.

He heads towards the rendezvous, job finished. Efficient as always.

Exactly as is expected of him.

———

It is several months more that he begins to realize there may be something truly wrong.

He’s training-fighting, losing- with the Lady Shiva. If Red Robin could beat her, Danyal must as well.

He’s fairing… okay.

They’ve been engaging for a while now, for a fight, a minute at least, maybe two.

He feels his breath rough in his chest, his face slick with sweat, his body buzzing with adrenaline and the push to do better-

His heart squeezes, seizing up tense and frozen for just a second, his body following in surprise-

There’s a sword through his stomach.

Danyal tries to focus again, to swing his sword, like he’s been trained, but everything feels… loose.

The sword is removed from his stomach, wet blood sliding down his tunic. Cold floor beneath his knees, had he fallen? No, he had to stand, get up, get up, get up. Get up!

Please, you have to get-

There’s hands on him, moving him, the hallways are too dark, -get up, you have to get up- he can’t tell where they’re going. No they’re not dark, his eyes are closed, he pries them open, gasping for breath as the pain in his stomach tears deeper.

Please, he just wants to go home.

Darkness still clouds his vision, but the people carrying him barely glance back as he groans.

His eyes flicker shut, too heavy to keep open as he tries to focus on anything but the pain, on not bleeding out, on please don’t let him die here, not here, please.

They enter another door, letting him stumble across steps farther and farther down.

When they reach the bottom, it seems as though every sound is sucked out from the room. An eerie silence thick in the air.

It forces his eyes open, just a squint, darkness prickling at the edges of his vision.

He barely catches a glance of cave walls before he feels himself thrown forward.

And familiar green fills his vision.

Panic surges.

Pain in his stomach. -His hand. The button!-

Green water surrounding him. -The portal is on!-

Liquid fills his mouth when he tries to scream. -There’s no sound between dimensions.-

It feels like burning acid running across every nerve of his open wound, creeping into his pores like tar covering a dying animal.

But it doesn’t feel like death.

He would know.

It feels a little like life.

He doesn’t want it.

He doesn’t get a choice.

He never does.

It feels like a thousand screaming souls, begging for justice and for freedom, just as he is.

They shout and yell at him to do something, to fight where they can’t, why can’t they, they’re so helpless, angry at their helplessness, angry at their inability, angry angry angry

Their pleas fill his ears, louder with each passing second.

He’s angry, angry, angry- how dare they, how dare they- he could win, they can’t stop him, they deserve it-who’s they?- he’s going to kill them, they can’t stop him-

Frigid humid air stings against his skin, no longer submerged, and green fog tinges everything.

But he-they- need to fight, kill them, stop them, do something, do something because they can’t- fight!

Danny lunges at the first person he sees, an assassin in all black at the edge of green waters.

His fist nearly collapses his skull. It doesn’t stop him.

There’s another and Danny lunges again, ignoring the sword that slashes towards him, grabbing it and snapping the metal with one hand, the other around the ninja’s neck, gripping, cracking, breaking-

Something heavy hits him over the head, the world staticking for a second as his hand loosens, a body dropping to the floor.

Hands reach at him, pulling, holding, restraining, and he fights with sharpened claws and fangs and burning fists of glowing energy and hands ripping hearts from their chest- until there’s so many bodies around him and restraining him, that it actually slows him down.

Enough to realize his powers are flowing easily once more, surprise cutting through the fog in his mind.

He stops actively pulling against the arms holding him down, his cheek now pressed painfully against rocky floor.

Where is he?

A nauseatingly familiar voice fills the room, “You managed quite the damage, Danyal,” Ra’s al Ghul stands in front of him, when Danny is able to lift his head and look, “Perhaps there is still potential hidden behind your weakness, the capabilities of your rage is akin to my first venture into these pools, so many centuries ago.”

The smile on Ra’s’ face sends twitches down his spine and confusion pools in his gut, “What…?” he murmurs, head still murky, but a bolt of fear races through his chest, and he forces his words into the League dialect once more, “What happened…? I..-“ His voice is small, and slowly he feels the assassins holding him release his arms and back away. He pushes himself upright to his knees, finding less strain in his muscles, in his bones, than he has for nearly two years.

“You failed your training, little Al Ghul,” A voice, Lady Shiva, speaks from his right. Her sword is still red.

Danyal’s eyes jump to hers, the memory rushing back- blood, the sword, falling, the water- his hand grips the side of his tunic even as his head snaps to the side, finally seeing the green waters lurking just next to them.

The Lazarus Pits, his training says.

Ectoplasm, his core whispers.

He looks down at the hole in the fabric of his tunic, any bloodstains around it all but gone. There’s not even a scratch.

The rest of his clothes are still layered with blood.

And Danyal knows it isn’t his.

He stands, watching as other league members file in, dragging away the bodies surrounding them.

There are too many to count.

He doesn’t even try.

Ra’s Al Ghul steps forward, drawing his focus once more.

He eyes Danyal critically, “Walk with me, child,” He says, already turning away with robes moving gracefully.

Danyal hurries to move with him, one step behind as they trail through the halls and corridors, slowly moving farther and farther up through the compound.

Finally they step out from an arch, the gentle late afternoon sun lighting up the sky with colors. Just enough light to see clearly, not enough to blind or burn.

It would’ve been a perfect afternoon to die on.

Instead, Danyal catches the sword thrown towards him with surprising grace. Ra’s face is filled with dangerous curiousity as he speaks, “Attack.”

Danyal doesn’t question it. Doesn’t wonder why Ra’s remains unarmed, doesn’t question if he might hurt him. He just acts, lunging forward at the command with nary a second thought.

“Starting today, you will train with me. Each week,” Ra’s speaks as he easily dodges and blocks Danyal’s hits, forcing him to take a new approach each time.

Danyal nods, “Of course, Great One.”

Ra’s knocks him to the ground, standing over him with sword drawn, “Call me Grandfather, Danyal. You’ve earned it.”

Danny’s heart squeezes.

He nods, “Of course Grandfather.”

——

After that, things change. Ra’s Al Ghul keeps to his word, calling for him each week, sometimes no more than a few days apart.

All too quickly it becomes a part of Danyal’s routine. The brutal training sessions of Ra’s beating him down and letting him up only to do it again.

He wishes he had it in him to question the Demon’s Head, but he doesn’t, so when Ra’s tells him to attack, even when unarmed, even when Danyal should rip his throat out with one use of intangibly, Danyal listens and attacks him.

Months into the now singular training, Danyal realizes that he hasn’t left this compound in a while, there hasn’t been a spontaneous move, or travel for a new master.

It’s just been… Ra’s.

He feels more stable, more stationary than he remembers being in so long. His youngest years had been the same routine of constant movement from base to base, compound to compound. And then he had lived.. in America, and had a single home, a house he knew the direction to from anywhere in town. For so many years, he been able to settle in one place.

Only to be uprooted once more, thrown back to everything he’d left behind, everything he’d-

Danyal enjoyed knowing where he would return to at the end of the day. The sense of familiarity that came with the same room, the same bed and halls, day after day, week after week.

Maybe that’s why it catches him by surprise when Ra’s calls for him at the base of a landing pad, jet idle behind him.

Danyal allows a nearby assassin to pass a pack into his hands, clearly full of materials.

For a moment, Danyal wonders where they are going? What new training awaits him at the other end?

Then Ra’s steps aside, dangerously graceful as ever, and reveals the bay of the jet to be not empty, but filled by assassins, each standing at command.

Danyal looks to Ra’s once more.

“An Al Ghul does not only follow, Danyal,” He says with a sharp smile as he approaches, laying a heavy hand on Danyal’s shoulder, “An Al Ghul leads. And as you are my heir, you must learn to command the respect of our members.” The hand squeezes on his shoulder, making him look up, meeting Ra’s in the eyes, “By any means necessary.”

Danyal looks away, looking back at the assassins waiting for him, for his command.

He’s not ready.

He has to be anyways.

The hand on his shoulder feels like lead as he steps out from under it, filling his voice with power he doesn’t feel, and sending the squadron scattering to new assignments.

Flight, equipment, weaponry, information, planning, infiltration, execution, all of it, it’s all on him to control.

Danyal turns back to gauge Ra’s’ reaction, only to find him already halfway gone, the sight of his retreating back the only response.

Okay, he’ll do this.

He can do this.

He has to.

What else can he do?

——

He takes to leading missions with the hand of a natural.

It’s easy.

Send these people here. These people here. Block every exit, erase every loose end, don’t leave any witnesses. Finish the mission.

Their missions are for the betterment of everyone, they are fixing things, getting rid of corrupt leaders, people unworthy of what they have, everything they’re doing is for a reason. It has a purpose.

He has a purpose.

So he ignores what’s behind every number he sends for each job. Ignores the calculation behind every call to secure the exit that has five private guards. Ignores the number behind the perimeter assignment because he knows the building has a late hour maid present each night.

They’re just numbers.

And he’s good at this.

At least he’s good at this.

He kills the first person to question an order.

They don’t question him again.

Everything runs smoother when they don’t question him.

It’s easier this way.

It’s always easier.

——

He’s traveling again. Spending more hours sleeping in hotels and safe houses than any bed he might deign to call his.

More and more time goes by, bit by bit, hour by hour, each filling his body with sand like setting concrete.

Slowly, Danyal feels it begin to wear on him. The exhaustion of the missions, his own body weighing him down with every strike he takes. Refusing to react with the speed demanded of him to succeed.

Danyal pushes past it. It doesn’t matter. This is his duty, it is all that is expected of him and he will do it. Even as he finds himself clutching his chest in the dark of a mission, blood still leaking from his target below him.

He forces himself past it, eyes flickering, steeling himself, then wiping down his blade and leaving, muscles tense and bones shaking.

He makes it as far as the car waiting in the near abandoned parking garage below, his chest continuing to tighten, heart erratic beneath his ribs. Danyal grunts, pain lacing up his arm, struggling not to stumble as he staggers into his seat with a near gasping breath.

He pulls himself together, his words as confident as he can make them as he speaks to the assassin in the drivers seat, “Call Ra’s Al Ghul. Bring me to him. Now.”

Danny feels his heart twitch in his chest, his hand flickering in his vision, or is it his vision that’s flickering, he can’t tell, still the cold leather soothes him, heart pounding louder louder, yelling, screaming in his ears, angry so angry so angry, rage rage rage, fix it fix it fight fight fight for us fight! Don’t let it go, never let it go, revenge, make them pay, they have to pay-!

He comes back with a gasp and a burst of pain across his shoulder, adrenaline and fury still coursing through his veins in equal measure.

His hair is wet, green liquid dripping down his face in sluggish trails mixed with foreign blood. It lays plastered on the curves of his face, framing his eyes as he stares up at the Demon’s Head.

The same malicious smile sits on his face, “Welcome back, Danyal.” The words are tinged with expectance.

Danyal pauses, collected his words around his tongue like a lead weight in his dry mouth, “I- Why was I put in the Lazarus pit again?” Danyal can only hope he’s showing the right amount of deference to even be allowed such a question.

“You were brought to me collapsed, and your heart failing you. The Lazarus pits provided a temporary solution,” Ra’s says, his eyes sharp, “But it is temporary. This problem will not be allowed to continue.”

“Of course, Master,” Danyal pulls himself to his knees, “…I believe it’s because of my accident-“ Danyal pauses, this is closest he’s come to actually telling them how he got his powers, what it did to him-, “There was electricity, and the shock, my heart was-is damaged. I don’t know why it’s getting worse-“

Ra’s hums, “The body can be fixed, child. The mind cannot. This,” Ra’s places a hand on his back as Danyal stands, “is merely an obstacle to our goal.”

“I will not fail you, Grandfather.”

“I know, child.” His words are a guarantee, an assurance to Danyal.

He will prove that the confidence placed in him is not mistaken.

——

It is barely months after that second time that Danyal once again feels his body’s failings encroach on him.

His heart beats off pattern, falling out of rhythm more with every passing day.

Danyal takes a deep breath, willing it to calm himself.

He will not let this stop him. He is an Al Ghul. He is capable. He is strong, and he will not be held back by his own body.

Danyal turns his focus inwards, ripples traveling along the surface of the ectoplasm in his core he’s left untouched for so long now.

He lets the ectoplasm submerge him, turning his form ghostly, his eyes sharper green than they’ve ever been before.

Danyal lets his feet lift off the ground, just for a second, weightlessness enveloping him, the buzzing of the world a background in his ears.

Then his toes touch the ground again and Danyal snaps into movement towards his closet. He puts on his usual league clothes over the old hazmat suit, feeling the layers lighten as he covers them up. Until it feels as though he’s only wearing the league clothes, and his white gloves stare in his face.

Slowly, he removes them, staring for too long at the green lines like cracks trailing up his arm.

Danyal turns away.

He has work to do, he can’t let himself be held up with small feelings like that.

As Danyal travels the halls, every step an effort to remain flat on the ground, he feels the ectoplasm within him roil, coursing faster and stronger than he ever had before, even in the Ghost Zone or in A-.

It revitalizes him and Danyal arrives to Ra’s Al Ghul’s training with bold confidence filling him.

Ra’s greets him an enigmatic smile and a challenge of his strength.

Danyal meets him kind, dodging every lunging, swiping every parry, light on his feet like he hasn’t been in years now.

Their fight lasts longer than any other they’ve had, his muscles able to hold up stronger in this form, his stamina infinite as the ectoplasm he draws from without any need for breathing or rest.

Ra’s Al Ghul is impressed even as he holds Danyal beneath his boot, his sword pressed to his neck.

Glowing green sluggishly leaks from the scratch.

Danyal pays it no mind.

Instead he stares at the small cut on the crown of Ra’s’ head, a single crimson red droplet crawling down the side of his face.

Danyal did not win. But he didn’t loose either.

Satisfaction fills him in a rush, carrying him through even as they reengage.

——

Danyal strives to reach his goals, to hit every target set out for him, beat every opponent put against him, to reach the expectations and the potential that the Demon’s head sees him.

To make himself worthy to be here, to stay.

And he knows his weaknesses hold him back, make him vulnerable, put everything-one- in danger.

So he stops being vulnerable. Stops letting his body, his weaknesses, dictate his capabilities.

Faster and faster his store of ectoplasm drains within him.

And Danyal makes himself stronger and stronger, short exposures of the Lazarus pits to keep it from stopping him.

He can’t stop.

So he keeps going, keeps training, fighting, growing- when had he gotten tall? When had he gotten older?

He keeps working, to be better, to be the best.

And as he approaches the Demon’s chambers weeks later, he is surprised to hear yelling.

More than that, he is surprised to hear Talia’s voice be the one yelling.

He pauses outside the door, eyes narrowed and body resting on the edge of invisibility.

He does not want to know the punishment for eavesdropping, nor for interrupting them… and yet…he hasn’t spoken to Talia, not truly, not since she told him the Batman was dead. Barely seen her except beside the demons’s head in ceremony as he stands at the edges of a room.

It has been entirely too reminiscent of his childhood.

Danyal’s ears prick up as the volume increases once more.

“You cannot ask me to bring him back to use him for-!”

“I do not ask for anything, Daughter! He belongs to the League! And the League to me! It was a mistake to allow you to keep-“

Ra’s’ voice drops too low to be heard through the door, muffling the rest of his words.

Danyal steps back from the door, standing in the hall with questions blooming in multitude.

Moments later, Talia Al Ghul steps through, a force of fury in every step. She catches sight of him immediately, and when Danyal makes eye contact, her eyes are filled with worry, stress, regret, a thousand what-ifs and plans and concerns.

Somehow he knows none of it is for him.

He bows slightly, and she passes by him without a word.

Danyal watches her hair flow as she retreats further and further down the hall until he finally turns around to enter the room.

Ra’s Al Ghul is waiting for him.

He gives no indication that he knows Danyal heard him, so Danyal doesn’t say anything. But he doesn’t make the mistake of thinking that means Ra’s doesn’t know.

He always knows.

His training continues.

For days, and weeks, and months more, he continues.

But even a ghost cannot lie to himself forever.

——

When Damian wakes up with chains around his wrists and the familiar feeling of harsh metal beneath his knees, he is not surprised to see his mother standing in front of him.

He wishes it were only his mother.

Instead, his grandfather stands in front of him as well, eyes staring down at him with impassive judgement. Damian feels his spine straighten against his will, the feeling of ‘never good enough’ creeping through his limbs.

He glances at his mother behind Grandfather’s looming form. Her face is uncharacteristically open, the barest hint of tension evident in her jaw, her eyes almost brighter with the concern hidden behind them.

Damian forces his eyes away as Grandfather begins to speak.

“You’ve wasted your time with your father Damian,” he starts, “Letting your training go to waste as the league continues to work to better the world.”

Damian wants to sneer, a scowl forming on his face, “The league does nothing but hurt innocent people. My time as Robin has saved hundreds.”

Grandfather’s eyes sharpen, “And I see it has taken your discipline as well.”

Damian grinds his teeth, “Anything I have learned, I learned from my Father and my family,”

“Your family?” Grandfather says, his tone almost mocking as he raises an eyebrow, “You are an Al Ghul-“

“I am a Wayne too!” Damian says, straining as he rises to his feet, “I am Damian Al Ghul-Wayne! Just as you wanted me to be! And it is my choice to be a hero, to be Robin, and I stand next to Father and the others with pride!”

Grandfather’s glare intensifies, “Do not interrupt me again, Damian. You will not be exempt of the consequences.”

Damian stares him down, fear pressing against his insides with a scream too familiar to his youth.

He turns away with a click of his tongue.

Shame whispers at his cheeks.

Grandfather waves a hand blithely as he turns his back, “Bring him.” He pauses at the door, “He remains bound.”

Damian watches his Grandfather leave, his eyes drifting sideways to his mother.

“Mother, why am I here?” He demands, tone sharp and clear. He tries not to let show how lost he is.

Mother steps forward, laying a gentle hand on his face and the other at the crook of his neck, cupping his cheek as her eyes soften. Regret sits behind them.

“Mother.” He says again, pulling slightly away from her hand, “Why am I here?”

She sighs, stepping back, “The Demon’s Head has need of you.”

Then he watches her leave as well, and Damian finds his arms and hands grabbed as assassins unchain him and push him forward.

He reluctantly lets them lead him through the unfamiliar halls of wherever they are, just a few paces behind his mother.

They stop in front of an open doorway, and when Damian is dragged in front, the sight he is met with brings confusion over anything else.

In front of him is a young man, no older than Todd or even Drake, laying asleep in a hospital bed with a heart monitor attached to him.

The beeping that fills the room is shallow and unsteady, much like the boy’s breathing. His hair is dark with speckled streaks of grey and a natural paleness in his skin.

Worse than that is the IV Damian can see tucked into the crook of his arm, tube trailing up to a bag.

Slowly feeding Lazarus water into his veins.

Damian whips his head around to look at his mother, only to find her staring disdainfully at the boy in the bed.

It only serves to confuse Damian more.

What had this man done to cause his mother such ire?

“Take the sample.” His Grandfather’s voice commands. And Damian feels the arms holding him shift to a more secure grip, pulling him to his knees even as he fights them. A man in a white coat approaches him, and Damian fights harder when he notices the syringe in his hand.

The sting of the needle is dull against the fear crashing through him as his grandfather watches.

His mother looks away.

Finally, Damian jerks as the hands he now knows are Ubu’s release him, still hovering close as he is dropped. He is surprised to see that they actually took blood, rather than dosing him with something. Sedative or worse.

Damian scowls at his grandfather, but he simply looks unconcerned as the assumed doctor moves forward to take a second sample, this time from the boy laying in the bed.

“Why am I here, Grandfather?” He asks, eyeing all parties critically.

“Haven’t you realized, Damian?” His Grandfather asks with a mockingly raised eyebrow, “His heart is failing, and the Lazarus waters can only fix so much by the nature of his defects. Your brother needs you, Damian,” Grandfather says, voice serene, “And you are going to help him.”

Damian barely has a moment to process his words before the hands are pulling him back once more, he yanks his arms from their grip, “Grandfather! What are you- let me go!” Damian turns fully to incapacitate the assassins, only to have Ubu pull his binds harshly sideways and give the servants leverage enough to actually tame his movements.

“Who is he?! Mother!” Damian turns to her, unsurprised to see her turning a blind eye once again, “Mother who is he!? What is Grandfather talking about?! What are you doing!?” The assassins pull at him again, successful in getting him through the doorway as he struggles.

Just before the door closes, he hears the Doctor speak to his grandfather, and his response.

“The boy is a match Great One.”

“Good, prepare Danyal for surgery. As soon as possible.”

The surprise is enough that the door closes in his face and he is dragged back through the hallways.

He stands as much as he can, walking at pace, refusing to allow them to disrespect him by letting them drag him.

He glares at Ubu as he shuts the door of his cell between them.

Once he knows he is alone, Damian takes a better register of his situation. He is still in his Robin uniform, so that means he was out with the family- he has a brother- they’ll be looking for him. He believes he’s on a boat, the rocking, the design of the doors and walls- a brother!- he has to make sure he can be found. Grandfather has plans for him-why tell him now- he doesn’t seem to be listening to Mother’s decisions- his brother’s name is Danyal- he might be in danger-they both could- how is he going to get out-

Damian stops.

He readjusts his clothing, feeling the minute shift once more. There’s something between the collar of his suit.

Slowly, Damian runs his hand along the fabric, finding a small bump he recognizes as a tracker.

One of his own bat made trackers. But how..?

Mother.

Damian scoffs to himself. Of course, he should have known she would never show such an obvious display of affection without reason. She was still largely loyal to Grandfather, but Damian was not so naïve as to think she did not care for him at all.

The vibration of the tracker is rhythmic beneath his fingers, the only solace he gets.

His family is coming.

He knows it.

He just hopes it’s fast enough.

——

Perhaps Grandfather’s first mistake was taking him as Robin, when his family was always the most on edge, the most prepared, the most connected.

Or perhaps his first mistake was training Bruce Wayne in the first place.

Either way, Damian watches from the other side of an observation window as his Grandfather and Father engage in a fight racked with fury on both ends.

Richard jostles him, bringing his attention back into focus.

Right.

His newest brother.

He mumbles an explanation to them, words slurred as they leave his mouth. But he knows they heard him. The shock-caution-suspicion painted across their faces could mean nothing else.

Perhaps his Father was under a curse. Surely there was a limit to how many unknown children one person could have in a single lifetime?

All the same, once freed, he moves to help Drake and Richard remove the boy-brother, Danyal- from the operation table next to him, stepping over the doctors knocked unconscious at their feet.

Reluctantly, he allows Drake to support him under one arm, the anesthesia still weighing down his eyelids.

They rush through the halls like a bull, both him and Drake separating to fight off more than one assassin. Even Richard has to set down Danyal to join the fight at least once.

But finally, they make it to the Batplane idling next to the hull.

The moment they are onboard, the plane starts to move away, but his Father is still on board.

Still fighting with Grandfather as they burst through the doors, fists and weapons engaged in equal measure.

Father dodges sideways, blocking hits until he reaches the rails, then he jumps over without hesitation. And just as Damian is about to shout for him, arm reaching out futilely, Richard blows past him.

He is leaping out of the open cargo door with just as much surety as his father leapt, a cord tied around him, and with perfect precision, he watches Richard catch his father at the extension of his swing.

It’s a perfect demonstration of their partnership.

And Grandfather is left scowling out at them from the ship.

His mother stands alone and calm on the upper deck, watching.

Damian turns his attention to his family.

And to Danyal with them.

——

Returning to the cave is less of an affair than Damian may have expected from such a mission.

His father is-has been- silent for most of the flight, staring at the body of Danyal with blank eyes.

Even Drake and Richard conspicuously cast a glance back every few minutes. Damian controls himself from doing the same. He is not so undisciplined as to be as obvious.

Still, the tension only rises the longer Danyal continues to remain asleep. Even by the time Damian feels the last of the anesthesia leave his own system, Danyal is unchanged.

Damian is certain his grandfather would not choose someone so sickly to be his heir, someone so incapable of protecting themselves in this state. Surely there was a reason he was kept, a reason he was allowed this weakness when Damian was-

Regardless, Damian didn’t trust it. The others could get pulled into this invader’s lies all they wanted, Damian would be there to stop him, he was sure of it.

Still, he watches Pennyworth dote over him in the medbay, Father laying him down on a medical bed with harried care, removing his cowl with barely a thought.

Damian ground his teeth, did they not understand that this was an operative trained by his Grandfather? An assassin with no attachment to them that was favored enough by Grandfather to warrant Damian being-

Damian turned to his locker, glad to replace his weapons stores and feel the weight of his sword at his side once more. It would be a pain, but he would have to find a way to receive a package from his mother if he wanted his other sword back.

It was merely a replica of one of his betters but the desire remained.

He watched from the corner of his eye as the family began to gather in front of the Batcomputer, the screen’s light casting shadows on them even in the artificial cave lighting. Finally, they were going to be doing something.

Damian approached, lingering at the edge where he could still see through the curtains of the medbay.

“I’m not the only one who noticed a suspicious lack of life threatening wounds right?” Drake began, turned away from the console with one hand still on the keys, “I mean, there was that first surgery cut, but that was the same as on Damian. It certainly wasn’t enough to necessitate Lazarus water being entered directly into this kid’s bloodstream.”

Damian scowled, “He was like that before they attempted this. Grandfather said that there was something wrong with… Danyal’s heart, said that I would be able to fix it.”

Father cast another brief look at the medbay, Pennyworth’s shadow still moving within. “I’ll have Agent A call Leslie. Robin,” he turned towards Damian, “Did Talia or Ra’s mention anything else to you? Where .. he’s been this whole time?..Why you didn’t know of his existence?”

Damian shook his head, “No, only that he was my brother and that the pit water was being used to fix him somehow. That I was needed to save him.”

Father hums, turning back with pensive silence.

“B, we don’t even know how long this kid’s been there, he’s older than Damian,” Richard pleads. And it makes Damian duck his head with clenched fists. Who was he? Why was he so much more favored by Grandfather?

Why had they told him he was the firstborn of mother? Of father?

“He could always be a clone with advanced aging, we know Talia is capable of it, she’s done it before,” Drake adds. But the theory sits uncomfortably with all of them. Something just not quite right.

“But then why did they need Damian?” Richard says back.

Father grunts.

“Is it really…” Richard starts, “I mean, we have to consider that she actually kept it secret again. Even from Damian.”

“But B wasn’t even with Talia before that, Damian was the first time they… y’know.” Drake says, a grimace on his face at the end.

Father hums, “But I’d fought Talia before. And I had trained with Ra’s.”

“All it would have taken is one DNA sample, right.” Richard says with a sigh, carding his fingers through his hair, “Well, we might as well-“

There’s a slight clatter on the medbay level, silencing everyone as their heads snap to the sound.

When nothing follows, Father motions them all to head up, flanking the room.

Damian is the closest, entering first. No sooner does he notice Pennyworth laying on the floor before he feels a hand slip around his neck and another quickly snatch the sword at his side. Within seconds, Damian feels his back pressed against another body, the cold steel of his own sword stinging at his neck as he stares into his Father’s eyes.

Except his father is not looking at him, he’s looking at the person holding him.

Danyal.

“Where am I!? Who are you!?” The voice behind him demands, the vibration buzzing against him with the familiar staccato of Damian’s native league dialect.

His family shares a weighted look, clearly hesitant to say anything. Already Damian can see the way their fingers twitch towards weapons and utility belts.

The steel at his neck tightens, “Tell me now or I slit his neck and deliver your bodies to the Demon’s Head myself.”

Father’s stance tightens, anger pulling at his gloves even as he forces himself to put his hands up in surrender. When he answers, it is in the League dialect, “We’re not a danger to you, Danyal,” the blade doesn’t so much as twitch, “Put down the swor-“

Stephanie Brown’s voice rings out across the cave, “Hey, Kate and I just finished patrol and-“

Damian doesn’t pay attention to the rest of the sentence because the moment Brown starts speaking, his assailant’s group loosens just a bit, accompanied by a low, broken whisper of, “English?…”

Damian immediately jabs the flat of his arm up, putting the blade farther from his neck as he begins to grapple with him.

In the blur of movement, Damian sees his sword coming at him, throwing his body back with a barely a second to spare, feeling the supporting hand of Richard on his back as he joins their combined front.

Danyal now stands alone in front of them, stolen sword extended in warning.

And now that Damian can see his face, he knows why his family was hesitant… Danyal’s eyes flicker a bright Lazarus green.

“What do you want from me? Why am I here?” he demands once again.

His Father steps up, “I don’t know how much know about me: my name is Bruce Wayne,” There’s barely even a flicker of recognition, “But you might know me better as Batman.”

The eyes widen, eyes scanning them with fervor before narrowing with suspicion and denial, “The Batman is dead, the Demon’s Daughter told me so herself.”

Drake steps forward, “She was wrong. He came back-“

Damian rolls his eyes, “Clearly Mother must have told you. Do not be stupid.”

Danyal’s brow furrows, silently mouthing the word ‘mother’ beneath his breath.

“I don’t-“ He cuts himself off with a grimace, hands tightening on the shaft of the sword, “I don’t believe you, what-“

“What happened? Did we bring back the demon spawn, why are you all-“ Brown bursts into the room, words already filling the air. Only to stop when she sees Danyal.

He raises the sword at them again, noticeably less stable as he supports it with two hands, “Who are you!? Why am I here!? Tell me-“ He grunts again, putting a hand to his chest, “Tell me, now! I-“ the sword drops, Danyal using it to support himself like a cane. Father steps forward, hands extended. It only serves to make Danyal lift his head to glare at him.

“Stay back-“

“We’re only trying to help-“

“I said-“ Danyal grunts, hand clenching at his shirt as he drops to his knees, “Stay- Stay back- I’m-“

The sword falls from his hands with a metallic clatter on the stony ground, Danyal gasping for breath.

“Back- off..” He whispers, the English falling from his lips with desperation as he curls in on himself.

Father rushes forward the moment Danyal’s body goes limp, lifting him onto the medical bed as the room bursts into motion. Richard is grabbing medical equipment as Drake helps father with providing CPR as Brown moves to get Alfred, all of them quick to jump to action.

Damian slowly steps forward, picking up his abandoned sword from the floor.

He turns it over in his hands, making sure it is unharmed from the ordeal even as he watches his family rush to help each other.

Just what had Grandfather been doing to Danyal?

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/snaileer/752878745769181184/call-to-my-bedside-part-2?source=share

[murphy-kitt]

Ectober Day 4 - Came Back Wrong

Word Count: 1,645

Tags: Angst, Character Death

AO3

—

Jazz didn’t hate the ghosts at first.

But now she loathes them.

Back when her parents research was merely myth, Jazz hadn’t bothered to focus on the theories or speculation they spurred out. Why would she?

Every waking minute at Fentonworks was spent talking about ghosts. Ghost this, ghost that. What new weapons they had conjured up (to her, it’d seemed stupid. Why did you need defence against things that weren’t real?).

Her own mind didn’t need plagued by ghosts all hours. But now, admittedly, it’s all she thinks about. She doesn’t think of them in the way her parents do.

The hatred may be the same, but the science—that doesn’t matter. She doesn’t want to cut them up or learn what a core is.

All she wants is revenge.

Because it was the ghosts that killed Danny, in the end. That stupid, stupid portal.

And in a right mindset, she’d blame her parents, their negligence. The practicality of it was, that it had been her parents fault. She was aware enough to know logically that Jack and Maddie Fenton had been the reason.

But the reason for their portal? Was their obsession with ghosts. And so it became deliberate ignorance.

Directly it might’ve been her parents, but if their obsession with ghosts hadn’t happened then portal would’ve never existed and her baby brother wouldn’t be dead.

The night is dark as Jazz sits by her desk, blinds open as she watches for any sightings of ghosts outside. Her eyes are heavy, a mix of academic drag and grief. Which one prevails, she doesn’t know.

She knows Danny would want her to keep going academically. And although Danny was never spiteful, merely witty, it feels important to do this. To..get justice…closure?

Jazz picks up the ghost scanner with a trembling hand. It constantly buzzes, a malfunction that her parents never fixed, but she doesn’t care. It’s the one bit of tech she trusts to be reliant.

A rare moment of determination, she’d stolen it from the lab when they weren’t looking. Her dad would probably think he’d misplaced it.

“Come on, come on.” She narrows her eyes, feeling as frustrated as she had on her last exam. Her mind doesn’t work the same way anymore.

Once studying was done with a breeze, but now this plagues her. Danny’s death. The emptiness. Her parents are constantly working.

Of course, she still gets good grades, despite being told she’s relieved of all assignments for the year. But it feels more like an obligation, than something she used to enjoy.

Perhaps this is what the burnout Danny used to describe is. Danny was never as academically competent, always slower but eventually getting there.

Now justice is all she lives for. Any will do. Any target.

She just needs…violence? To rant? Anger? She doesn’t know.

Just something.

Something to feel anything but the deep dread weighing down on her, tethering her to an endless cycle of grief.

And then the scanner starts wailing, making Jazz tense slightly. She relaxes, before checking the small screen.

“A loud noise, so a powerful ghost surely?”

And she’s right.

Ghost: Phantom.

Power Level: 7.8

Current Core Usage: 80%

Jazz interprets, given the ghosts core usage, that it’s currently in a fight with another one. Plays hero, of sorts.

Phantom’s the worst one for her. He’s never done anything to her—but she hates him.

He’d appeared a few weeks after the portal had opened, whilst everyone was still reeling over Danny’s death. Yet, at that time Amity couldn’t ever have expected the paradigm shift Phantom was about to throw them into.

Ghosts everywhere. Constant fights. Damage. Already grieving and to blame parents wearing themselves down even more to defend the town.

Albeit, not very well, but she didn't dare say that. They’d already lost Danny, they didn’t need to lose the ghost hunting too.

Without another word, Jazz slips on her winter jacket, slipping open the door and down the stairs. Scanner in one hand, compact ectogun tucked into her belt.

She can hear her parents' snores echo from upstairs. Good. They won’t miss her for a while.

Cold air freezes her to her bones as she steps out into the street, instantly looking up at the sky. Dark blue and empty, only a few stars twinkling.

She’s sure if Danny was here he'd tell her what constellations they were.

“Where are you?” she grits out, watching as the small screen on the scanner shows a bright green dot, about two blocks ahead. There’s another dot too, smaller and weaker, before it disappears off the map. Jazz presumes Phantom has captured or weakened the ghost, whatever he does.

So she needs to be fast.

Within less than a minute, Jazz makes it to the street where the scanner showed, then shoves the scanner into her pocket. She doesn’t need to alert her presence.

And there he is.

Phantom is smaller up close than she’d initially thought, although no one at Amity has ever got a good glance. His back is facing towards her, the black of his jumpsuit glistening under a street lamp.

Something cylindrical in his hands has captured his attention, probably why he’s not noticed her yet. Jazz strains her neck to look, but can’t see.

Phantom. The ghost that’s put her parents through so much hell.

The ghost that’s, whilst Amity was still reeling from Danny, racked up the problems on their list by causing destruction to infrastructure and pointless money. All with a side of witty banter.

“You.” Jazz tries to steady her voice, feeling the grief trickle through. All this, for her brother.

She never got to grieve properly. No one did. How were they supposed too, with ghost fights all around?

Phantom’s reaction is immediate. His back stiffens and he swivels around.

The eyes. They’re a piercing lime green, just like the portal. The portal that killed Danny.

“What do you want?” Phantom’s asks, tone initially surprised but flattening. He’s younger than Jazz expected. Fifteen, at most.

Near the same age as Danny.

“What do you think?” Her eyes narrow, reaching for the ectogun attached to her belt. She doesn’t expect a logical answer.

Of course Phantom won’t know why she’s here, or what she’s after. He’s just a ghost with an obsession of being some copy-paste comic hero.

“I—I don’t know.” The ghost mumbles, eyes now averted down to his left hand. He tucks the cylindrical device under his shoulder before tracing a round shape on his left palm.

That’s…strange. Jazz thinks. Not the answer, but his behaviour. Is he thinking of something in the past? Better yet, he’s still here. Usually Phantom, at least to news reports, is enigmatic, and never likes being filmed.

So the fact he even turned in the first place is perplexing.

But then she thinks of Danny. Buried in the cemetery, grave stricken of flowers due to the quickness of their grief. Amity bombarded with attacks on the constant, never any peace.

All Phantom’s fault. At first, perhaps (the attacks) not. But over the months, he’s gotten quite a reputation. She’s sure he has some sort of control over Amity. That ghosts come to Amity now just for the sake of fighting him.

When he’s really just a five-foot nothing skinny teenager like her brother.

If Phantom is gone, she’ll finally get a break. Get to grieve for Danny. Danny can get the justice and tribute he deserves.

The ectogun is sleek in her hand, tucked under her coat. She knows what she’s doing, having received multiple lessons from her parents after Danny’s death. They didn’t want to lose her too.

Unlatch the safety trigger, quickly aim, shoot.

It’s that simple. She points.

”Please! Please—don’t do that!” Phantom pleads, “You don’t know what you’re doing—please, put it down!”

—

“Please, Danny! I need you!” She cries out. She’s in Danny’s room, the bed still unmade, clothes still strewn about.

Untouched from when Danny had last left it. He’d gone into the lab, and that was it. Electrocution, they told her.

He’d been barely hanging on at the hospital. And then his body couldn’t take it any longer.

Her brother is gone.

—

The next thing Jazz knows is the cold pavement underneath her body, sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest on the curb. The ectogun is a few feet away, glittering in the lamplight.

”I can’t—“ she sniffles, not even realising it. Her cheeks are damp, eyes stinging.

”What’s wrong?” An echoey voice besides her. Phantom. His eyes are narrows in concern. He sits near her, but leaves a gap.

Why’s he still here? He should’ve gone long ago.

“What’s wrong? My brother is dead and his body was barely cold before you waltzed in with your stupid puns and caused damage everywhere!” The anger radiates through Jazz’s body as she scowls at him, “My brother’s death was cast aside because of you. My parents never got time to grieve, none of us did. Too busy expecting another ghost attack or repairing damages.”

“Your brother?” Is all Phantom responds. Wiping her eyes, Jazz takes a glance at him. He’s hunched over, grimacing with an expression she can’t quite read.

”I just want Danny back.” She chokes out, wiping her eyes again, feeling the tears fall.

He’s gone. Only fourteen. What sort of age is that to die? Killed at the invention of their own parents. She’ll never hear his (admittedly annoying) chatter about space, nor have their petty arguments again.

Even the times he got on her nerves meant something.

”Jazz, I—“ Phantom starts to say, but freezes.

As does Jazz.

”How do you know my name?” She tilts her head, voice sharp.

She wipes her eyes, again, blinking back the bleary vision.

Then looks right into Danny’s green eyes.

[prettygirlformula]

things i do to distract myself.

i dont usually post textposts, but i decided to do something different because, its november!!! nd we all know this months is when things go wrong and i've been struggling to practice self-care so here are some of my favourite things i like to do to remind myself i am loved, and perhaps give you all some inspo if you're in a funk too!! <3

listen to music i tend to have different playlists as i believe that the music you listen to dictates your mood. as much as i enjoy my jazz and classical, when im in a funk i need to be hype 24/7!! my go to's are usually anything future, miss stallion, glorilla, king von, tate mcrae, charli or carti. i need to listen to music that'll manifest success and confidence.

read i'll read anything really, just to keep my mind off social media BECAUSE I DO NOT WANT TO ROT MY BRAIN WHEN IM FEELING SULKY. im currently reading letters from a stoic by seneca - im learning plenty and its keeping me stay calm

body movement i love a good run, or a pilates sesh so i'll put all my anger and sadness into pushing myself to run an extra k, or that extra set. sometimes its nice to just clear ur lungs and ur mind, and it'll build my strength physically and mentally!!! plus i'll look even better so he'll regret ever ending things with me

visit the beach im a beach girl forever, the ocean has always been my best friend. a quick swim will alwayssss level me out. there's cute boutiques and my favourite açai place along the esplanade and i love walking down there during the sunset or sunrise to keep me busy.

annoy my friends i love my friends so much they're my everything!!! they bring me peace even if we're loud. there's something about surrounding yourself with positive and loving energy that i'll never get tired of, if i could i would give all my love in my body to them.

write ive always been a writer i think. i have to get everything in my mind onto paper or a document or i lose it. its nice to write in my journal about things im grateful for, things im scared about and things i want to achieve. as well as just what went on in my day - i think that now im out of high school im living a much more dramatic and different life to what i used to, so i need to process these things. also i write w a muji pen so it makes the experience so fun.

cry no matter how nonchalant i try to be, im a crier - even at the clubs (it gets embarrassing) but i find it a great way to rid my anger, sadness or stress - better out than in.

meditate ive only just started practicing this, but its very peaceful!! well duh i like to do it during sunset in the park near one of the beaches i frequent (so i can swim too hehe) and the sound of the waves, the people and life can kind of block out anything in my head!!

clean/re-organise my room organised room = organised mind!! (my dad taught me that one) but during this process i always find something that i forgot about and i get distracted, so it takes longer but i get the job #done

call my mummy my mum and i are close, shes my best friend so i tell her everything (except my tattoos and my ehem..rendevouz..) her wisdom has helped me in a lot of situations...i tend to write down the advice she gives me so i dont forget and fuck up. again :p

retail therapy maybe not the most healthy way of self-care, but it gets the job done i cannot lie!! sometimes you need to spend a little bit of money to sustain some peace in your life. you do need that glossier lip liner babe, get it, you deserve it.

ofc some of these things may not work well for you, but self-care is what makes you feel good!!! im open to new ideas of self-care so lmk what you guys do :p + thank you so much for 3 blessed years on this account, eternally grateful for everyone <3

[the-scarecrow-of-aus]

Soooo...

Um, for mermay...

I was thinking of what might be fun to write for dcxdp, I thought I might be able to hash something out as I drove home from work earlier...

Listening to a random Spotify playlist that contained 'two' songs right after each other.. (this will come up later)

People know about pirate!batman right?

'Leatherwing'

My mind went about updating leatherwing to include all the bats and birds. Then it went to how I'd introduce danny.

-

Danny, who learnt he was a mermaid when he was 14, after being knocked overboard unconcious, into the port he fell, getting brained by a stray lumber spar, caught in fouled rigging and then dragged over the side by dead weight all on accident by his port-friend sam.

He didn't drown, but it took a while to wake up then realising you were staring at the underside of the ships keel.

-

not a good thing to discover when your parents hunt mermaids and other mythical creatures. "Dangerous creatures danno my boy, once you anger a mermaid best ready yourself because they don't forgive easily!"

Even worse when they're constantly travelling by ship with their benefactors: the GIW (the gentlemen in white).

A privately sponsored armada of hunters: whether their prey is pirates, mermaids or any creature they consider a threat, you don't want to be hunted by them!

So danny, doing his best to not be caught but still learn what he's capable of, learning how to use his voice to stun and enchant... finally he gets discovered freeing their captives.

He has to flee and flee he does, escaping them and striking out on his own.

(I assume jazz stays in Port and isn't aware of what's currently happened-away at 'college')

-

Sometime in the future though, constantly dodging his parents attempts to track him whenever he comes to a port, Danny happened upon captain leatherwings pirateship.

He follows them as a mermaid, watching them work. Sometimes they attacked a ship and other times they fled, being chased by pirate hunters but never caught! It was fascinating to watch despite the danger of being seen (he's seen).

At night he'd wrap himself around the rudder and hum or quietly sing listening to the ocean, hoping another mermaid would answer his call (he's never met another)

One day as leatherwing's ship, the flying fox. Starts to sail into port, danny hears them say they will put up a request for new crew (some leaving, some died).

Danny slips away ahead of them to shore, stealing some dry clothes (without holes to look presentable) and camps out at the inn by the docks looking for hire.

-

It takes some work but Danny gets hired on, excited to be among people again. He's introduced to the crew and does his best to fit in, it becomes apparent some of the long term crew are more then just crew, they act just like family...

Danny gets close to them, curious about their relationships with each other. One night (I'm picking cass for this but it could be anyone) he finds 'orphan-blackblade' sitting on the stern of the ship.

her feet through the railing on the back trying to hum a strange tune that sounds familiar, another of the crew sees Danny watching and laughs, 'orphan doesn't talk, but she sits on the back of the boat every night listening to the 'music of the sea' (you do the math)

-

-

That would continue building a relationship at a pace but now, we come to the part where danny is revealed.

leatherwing and the flying fox is attacked by the GIW who stumbled on them looking for danny with whatever dark magic's they use to track him. This coincides with a storm approaching and as the battle rages Danny gets pinned under water by debris and is forced to start transforming.

He breaks free and seeing the fight going poorly tries to help using his cry to shock the GIW, it works. This is where things get a little angst as the flying fox crew don't recognise danny as a mermaid...

Danny seeing the mainmast of the GIW ship coming down tackles orphan out of the way but in saving her gets attacked by her and everyone else forcing him to take her hostage to save himself and flee, whisking her away into the dark of the stormy sea.

-

This is where the songs literally came in:

Fish in a birdcage: 'rule #34'

(Awkward timing, forcing me to decide which was the priority: getting my ace asses mind out of the gutter or keeping my car wheels out of the gutter as I did some specific driving on the freeway to avoid some surprise gridlock traffic ahead!)

So play that song and imagine pirate!cass waking up in a cave of an unknown island being stared down at by an angry, shirtless, very familiar looking mermaid who you'd just stabbed...

My brain while trying to drive:

The second song was: fin- ship in a bottle

What comes to mind (as I was now stuck in gridlock) is an angry danny fighting back as leatherwing tries to find his daughter orphan after she was taken by a mermaid that suddenly attacked them during the fight.

He'd interrogated the GIW who invaded his ship, those who hadn't been able to flee in time as he chased after his daughter, they were hunting the mermaid and assumed he was on-board (a thought backed up by nobody knowing where danny had gone-they found his torn off shirt though...).

He tore the knowledge from them on how they tracked the mermaid, learnt the consequences of using the magic, forced them off the ship because they were now 'deadweight', cast the magic and set sail.

And now that he'd found him he was going to get his daughter back... But as said before, dannys angry and they fight...

- that's all I got at the moment.

-

The only other things I have is cass going non verbal in the cave and humming her song which could calm danny down as he recognises it as the song he sung when wrapped around the rudder at nights.

Cass stopping the fight between Danny and Bruce (and her siblings) threatening to beat both their asses

Ellie showing up as a mermaid, trying to find danny, she bumped into jazz and they've been trying to find danny for a while (Danny forgets to check in every now and then)

[lririx]

so, hypothetically, demi with a lady dimitrescu like hunter partner? i love both these women and i think the worlds should collide, my sapphic ass is hella WEAK for them

I love Demi so much I can't😭 My lesbian loving heart can't handle a ship like this it's so cute😭I hope you enjoy it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

•Low and behold a new hunter has come to the Manor with no sign of wanting to show any mercy towards anyone.

•A terrifying yet beautiful woman who is about 10 foot tall. No one knows her story. All they know is that if they end up in a match with her they're done for.

•Due to her condition she needs blood to stay alive and somehow the Manor provides the blood needed.

•She was a Nobel before she came to the Manor so she's used to ordering people around. She sees herself above all the other hunters but devotes herself to Miss. Nightingale.

•She obeys her every word and does nothing that might anger her. The hunters in the Manor were intimidated by her. Her demeanour was what caused it. No one thought she'd open up to anyone.

•So how in the world did this happen? Is she plotting something? Why is she dating a survivor? And that survivors is Demi?

•No one knows how this relationship came to be. Even Miss. Nightingale is confused about it. The hunter who showed no mercy even to the hunters is in love?

•Demi and The lady are quite different. Demi is a sweet ball of sunshine who wants to help everyone and bring joy to the Manor while the hunter wants to go on a murder spree.

•Well, their hobbies might have made them get closer. Both of them love to drink and listen to jazz all day. They adore dancing too.

•Sometimes music can be heard in one of the rooms and when people go and check on it they see two drunk love birds happily dancing to the song.

•The lady protects Demi all the time. She’s not overprotective, but deals with the trouble if Demi’s not capable of doing it.

•She never hits Demi during matches. Not even in a playful way. While she’s obliterating the survivors, Demi just stands there drinking and lovingly looking at her lover.

•If Demi asks The lady to not hurt anyone during the match, she will obey her instantly. Everyone sighs of relief whenever she does this.

•She can turn into a dragon like monster aswell and let's Demi get on top of her and she just flies away.

•Demi is around 5’6 and the lady is like 10 foot so the height differences is quite something. The lady has to kneel for Demi to be able to kiss her. Demi sometimes gets a chair or a stool or ever gets on the table to kiss her.

•Demi is a switch but The lady is a dom. Though she will be a bottom from time to time to make Demi happy.

•Sex with The lady is quite an experience. BDSM is something that will constantly happen during it. Good thing Demi enjoys it.

•Drinks and alcohol are always on the bedside table next to candles and incenses.

•Remember how I said the lady needs blood? Well yeah she bites Demi's neck and drinks it during sex and makeouts.

•Both of them will have visible bite marks and hickies the next day.

•And on a daily basis she takes Demi’s hand and drinks her blood.

•They call eachother mommy on the bed.

•If she’s talking to Demi and someone interrupts her she’ll bite their head off.

•Pet names. They will constantly use Pet names on eachother like “Sweetheart” “Dear” “Love”.

•They love showering together. They go in the bath and brush eachothers hair while kissing eqchothers neck. It gets steamy sometimes.

•Both of them wear red lipstick and they kiss eachother on the lips, cheeks and neck before a match and neither of them wipes it off.

•They wander around the Manor together while laughing and drinking. They just look like the sweetest couple during those times.

[logan-fields-official]

A sbg x gn reader who is like emu otori from wonderlandxshowtime and she is the captain of the dance team + and has the fighting technique of mizuki just search up "mizuki wrestler" on tiktok.

SBG x Reader

Don’t know what I’m gonna name this yet and will probably come back to add more.

The dance studio was filled with an energetic feel as Y/N, the captain of the dance team, led their group through their rehearsals. To say Y/N was an enthusiastic person was an understatement. It was like they had sun in their pocket. their cheerful and energetic demeanor often lighting up the dance teams spirits though it also sometimes drains them out. “Okay, everyone! Let’s take it from the top! I want to see those jazz hands sparkle!” Y/N exclaimed, clapping their hands together, earning a few giggles from the team. Logan, with his anxious demeanor, adjusted his glasses nervously, wincing slightly. “Uh, Y/N, maybe you shouldn’t not do the jazz hands this time? I think it’s a bit odd of a time for that.” he suggested, tugging at the hem of his sweater, his voice barely above a whisper. Y/N gasps dramatically and snaps their head towards Logan “Nonsense, Logan! Jazz hands make everything better. Right, Aiden?” Y/N stated, turning to Aiden. Aiden grinned and glanced up at Y/N nodding his head. “Oh absolutely! There’s nothing good jazz hand can’t fix. Besides, Logan, if they somehow screw up jazz hands then it’s just some more entertainment for us.” he chuckled, ignoring Logan's nervous side-eye. Ashlyn, sitting on the edge of the half wall, rolled her eyes though a slight smirk found it’s way onto her usual cold expression. “Yeah, yeah, as long as you don’t make me join in, I’ll stay” she said, and Tyler, leaning against the wall next to Ashlyn spoke up with an amused expression. “Don’t worry, Logan. Y/N’s probably just gonna end up adding something crazy if they gets rid of the jazz hands they’re just full of wild ideas, it’s mostly harmless.” Once practice was done, Y/N suggested an ice cream run. “I’m in the mood for something sweet, YALL wanna come get ice cream with me?” Y/N questioned, eyes sparkling with excitement. A cheer of enthusiastic agreement erupted, except from Ben, who sat quietly at the mini fringe, scribbling in his journal to stay detached from the dance team’s chaos. Y/N glanced at Ben and eagerly spoke up “Ben! You should join us! It’ll be fun I promise” Y/N claimed, their cheerful tone coaxing a slight smile from him as he nodded slightly. As the group was leaving the studio, laughter filled the air, but their playful evening took a sudden turn. Just as they had reached the parking lot, an argument broke out nearby. A couple of men were arguing loudly, and before the group could decide if they want to ignore it or intervene, it escalated. One of the men who appeared quite anger reached for something at his waistband, and all of a sudden Y/N’s instinct kicked in. “Guys back up!” Y/N shouted. Leaping forward ready to protect the group, their Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu training kicking in, Y/N quickly moved to intervene, placing themselves between the escalating fight and their friends. “Hey! What the fuck are you doing! Do you wanna go to jail?” they shouted, heart racing but their voice steady. Logan looked on in worry, clutching Ashlyn's arm, while Ashlyn’s usual cold demeanor fell away, revealing a hint of concern. Tyler’s usual harsh mood melted into protectiveness as he quickly made his way over to grab Y/N. “What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to get yourself killed!” he scolded, while Ashlyn caught up, not far behind also ready to help if need be. Watching in shock and amusement, Aiden stared intensely, while Ben stopped scribbling in his journal, ready to help dissipate the nervous energy radiating from him. The group was tense, but Y/N remained determined, channeling their training. 'Its okay guys, I know how to handle this,' they claimed, confidence filling their tone. A delicate dance between bravery and rashness, Y/N stood firm, ready to protect their friends at all costs.

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Part 5 - dare not preach

Dp x DC AU: Regent!Jazz & Vigilante!Jazz

Masterlist Part 4

"And If I had the answers I'd have written them out so I could tell you what to do and what this thing is about. But all I've ever learned comes second-hand and I dare not preach what I don't understand." -Make A Move by Icon For Hire

//////////////////////

Content warning: briefly implied child abuse (Vlad is not a good guy by any definition),

Time was lost in between bouts of consciousness, flashes of pretty eyes and fire hair,  soft muttering and gentle caresses against his skin soothing his aches. 

Jason was caught between heaven and hell, wracked with agony behind his ribs one moment and healed with persistent warmth the next, a never ending cycle. 

He wanted to scream. 

One bout of semi-clarity was of some citrus concoction on his tongue, gentle murmurs of a woman by his ear before she kissed him again, forced something down his throat again. 

He both loved and hated that woman. She felt familiar in a way that made his bat-honed paranoia rear its ugly head, the instinct to survive in his gut a heavy weight, but she brought him peace in the same moment she could damn him. 

He caught his name once, his real name, spoken by her as he swallowed dutifully, a spike of want in his heart almost a welcome change from the pain by that point. 

————————————————

Jazz spoke with the Lady frequently as the Red Hood, Jason, healed in her bed. 

The elder spirit, regal in mannerisms and aura, demanded the Regent to aid this one vigilante, this one knight and Jazz had finally figured out why. 

It was so obvious when she had all the puzzle pieces, the depth of occult knowledge both in her brain and at her disposal should have been her first resource used to dig deeper, but she’d allowed Danny and Frostbite to assume (and let her assume) that the Red Hood was an awakened Liminal who was recovering from corrupted Ecto in his system. 

The Red Hood had been Jason Todd-Wayne, the second Robin- bright light of Gotham- and he’d been murdered by the Joker. 

Unburied in my soil. 

Jazz groaned in self-contempt as she paced the graveyard of Gotham’s Crime Alley. It was decrepit and uncared for, not like the higher class cemetery of Gotham proper where the Rich and powerful are buried. She what’s spent the better part of three days researching her new bedmate roommate once he’d been stabilized enough to be on a consistent schedule for ecto-infusion. He’d be unlikely to regain full consciousness for another month or so, but he would recover fully. 

That was, if he understood what he had become in his near-fatal collapse. 

(Thanks to Jazz and her rash actions.) 

The Lady had been cryptic when speaking of Red Hood at first, but with his recovery and development of a strong proto-core Lady Gotham was eager to aid the Regent in making her once Robin adjust to a world-changing consequence once again. 

(At least this time he would have support.) 

Not only was Jason a Liminal with an indisputable death-claim, he had been a- a Revenant whose continued existence was a mind boggling happenstance of circumstance that was one in a infinite chance of ever happening again. 

The Lady claimed him. The Lady gave a bit of herself to resurrect her bright Light, the one who shouldn’t have died so young, not while he deserved happiness for the hope he brought to so many. 

(Damn it all.)

He clawed himself out of his own casket, to be found by Talia Al Ghul of all people… then survive the Lazarus Pits in body, with only Pit Madness to show for it? 

(It was a callous way to think about it, but Jazz knew that it had also given him his freedom in many ways, that Jason wouldn’t have if he was still just a Revenant.) 

(Did the Al Ghul know what she had found that night in dreary Gotham?) 

(Was she aware she had given Jason Todd a third chance at life- however much of one being death-claimed by Lady Gotham could be called a life.) 

The Lady, wistful once assured in the Regent’s anger having passed, swore an oath that Jason would never be forced to be a Knight again. 

(Jazz reveled in the understanding that Batman, Bruce Wayne, was destined to be Gotham Knight for his mortal lifetime- possibly beyond.) 

(Had he sworn his fealty by accident in his grief? Or had his donning that ridiculous gimmick been enough of a bind to tie his soul to the Lady?)

(Regardless, for his inaction, Jazz privately reveled in the satisfaction of the true consequences of his choices.) 

Jazz, who’d been pacing a strict line in the uneven row of headstones, came to a rest at the grave of the once-Revenant who now lay in her bed. 

Jason Todd 

He’d been only a year older than her little brother when he’d been murdered by the Joker, buried under a name that was half-complete. He was a Wayne in life, but not in death? How hypocritical of the old bat, to not give him the courtesy of giving him the hyphenated last name if he wasn’t going to bury him in the Wayne cemetery. 

What would it have been like if Danny had a grave, complete with a stone and inscription? 

(The portal was his grave. He’d died there and the house was his graveyard.) 

Would it have been up to Jazz to choose the words to describe her little light, the brightest star in the galaxy, the one reason she had for getting up in the morning… or would her parents have cremated him and put him on a shelf to prevent a corpse from ‘piloting’ his corpse? 

(Jazz still had nightmares about Danny’s death scream. The portal ripping him apart in the same moment it fused him back together.) 

(Into something different, something more.) 

(He was her little brother, the same one who she spent her birthday money on to get those ridiculous glow-in-the-dark stars.) 

(They’d spent hours forming constellations on his ceiling.) 

How does one paraphrase a life? 

Would Jazz start with his name, his preferred name, or with his date of birth? 

Would she put down ‘dearest brother’ or ‘missed’, ‘Be at peace’? 

No. Jazz knew she’d give the most important pieces of what made her little brother the brightest star in the sky- 

Danny, per aspera ad Astra.

Danny had an unconventional memorial tucked away in the remnants of the Fenton lab, underneath the debris of what was once a strange machine to a world unseen. 

The portal was built into the wall with ample access space in the rear for intended maintenance, though it was not required once the portal was completed and functional. 

Jazz left flowers for Danny in that maintenance space three days after she first saw his transformation, yellow tulips, though she didn’t know the impact the action would have later in life. 

Once a month, Jazz would return to replace the dried flowers, dust away the cobwebs, close the door, rinse and repeat. 

Christmas was particularly complicated in the Fenton household, but the first year of Danny’s half-life was the worst Jazz could recall up to that point. 

It wasn’t the eerie lack of ghost attacks (thanks to her not knowing of the Truce then), or the winter storm being harsher than any other Amity Park had faced in previous years… No, it was that Danny had died, while nothing and everything changed. 

Jack and Maddie still screamed their arguments about Santa Claus, loud and proud for the world to be privy to. 

Jazz had extra tutoring to take up for Christmas presents. 

Danny… Danny still had to fight a ghost. 

Ghostwriter wasn’t a malicious ghost in nature, far from it in fact, but he was never a fan of her little brother. 

Jazz overheard Danny tell his friends about his ‘storybook adventure’ and she had to sleep in the access space for the night, just so she didn’t wake anyone with her crying. 

It wasn’t right. 

That thought repeated on a never-ending loop in her head as she tucked her growing limbs into the cramped space, eyes shut tight and the darkness shrouding her in safety. 

(That had been the first nightmare of her own death to come, fingers frantically searching for a pulse as she woke in the dark.) 

Perhaps she should have never left that darkness. 

Because then the anger that had been building inside of her would never have been unshackled after the release of the tyrant king. 

Jazz had been a patient girl her entire life. It was a necessary evil when raised by scientists to follow in their footsteps, though she had no intention to make her life into any imitation of her negligent parents, she learned those lessons at the knee of Maddie Fenton, who had given her life to the pursuit of ecto-science. 

(Built a very strange machine to a world unseen.)

When Jazz failed to achieve something, she observed and struck when the opportunity presented it. That’s how she’d survived ghost attacks for so long, escpecially when it was her own dinner- that and the ingrained knowledge to strike hard and quick when it was required. A paradox of a hunter and a hunted, but that was Jasmine Fenton’s upbringing in a nutshell. 

Jasmine knew Vladimir Masters was a bigger predator than she was capable of hunting as a young girl. 

(Jazz was just a little girl when Vlad became obsessed with her and her mom.)

(Only the dead truly knew what an older man could do to someone so much smaller.)

It was a waiting game that morphed as she grew, bones sturdy and teeth sharper as Ecto-contamination finally settled into her molecules- Death-claimed, Liminality. Vlad was a false halfa, just as he was a false friend to her parents and a false business man, but as long as he stayed out of her way in caring for her little brother than she would not destroy him. 

(She was a patient hunter.)

Pariah Dark was the final crack. 

(It needed somewhere to go, all that anger, all that rage.)

Jazz had been patrolling the outer limits of the ghost shield now that Amity was returned to the Living Realm, anxiety in her gut as Danny had yet to show from his battle against the tyrant king. 

He had obviously won if they were all safe, right? The mech suit would boost him enough, but could it really kill what was already dead? 

Hidden in the embrace of familiar shadows, Jazz witnessed Plasmius carrying an unconscious Danny over his shoulder and a…crown in his right hand. 

Not only had the bastard released the King for the Crown of Fire, he’d damned them all for the same item he’d stolen in the aftermath.

Jazz’s next actions weren’t borne from Vengeance, they were unfiltered rage.

Vlad had died that night, Jazz believed wholeheartedly, he died before she locked him in his casket- a since soldered shut Fenton Thermos. 

Thing was, Jazz didn’t recall what happened between them- all she could really remember when thinking of that time frame was a green haze that was so similar in color to the damned portal. 

One moment, Plasmius had Danny and the Crown. The next, he was a beaten man in his human form with no rise and fall of his chest to convince Jazz he was alive. 

Was it concerning? Of course. Jazz never wanted to hurt anyone, especially not in a blackout rage state. 

(How times have changed.) 

Would she ever mourn Vlad? No. He deserved a far worse fate than a second death. 

(His sins were numerous.) 

If his casket would later be given to Pandora, the trusted Mentor of the Boy King’s Regent…. Well, where better to keep a body hidden than with a Matriarch who understands the sins of man? 

(Pandora had always believed in Jazz, the Regent’s soul was far too bright to be snuffed out without a war.) 

Within the Infinite Realms, the Regent was called many things- titles that held little meaning to the one in question, but offered weight to her authority. 

The Lady of the Acropolis, for her mentorship with Pandora and position of respect among the populace. 

First Knight of the Star King, would be granted once her Regency was over and Danny was crowned. His epithet as ‘Star King’ was a beautiful homage of a lost dream. 

Death-Claimed Champion. 

It made the Regent grit her teeth when addressed as such, especially when she lived in Gotham presently- the city of Lady Gotham’s Knights… her Champions. 

Jazz had survived to adulthood as a highly contaminated Liminal, no patron to claim as her- Not even Pandora counted even though they shared a teacher/student relationship. 

Would Jason, Red Hood of the Alley, be able to handle managing his territory without the backing of a patron claim? The Lady did swear that the once-Revenant was no longer bound to her service, which meant he could pack up his gear forever if he wanted to.

Though that was highly doubtful. 

Jason was a strong willed man to lay claim to his haunt so quickly and hold fast for so long. Jazz shared her haunt with Danny, but that was only because he was the powerful Halfa and future King. His Haunt would never be challenged by a competent opponent, not in Gotham at least. 

Perhaps Jason would be willing to unite their haunts? 

It was a common tradition for older ghosts to allow weaker ones to share their haunt for protection, but that didn’t translate well to the Death-Claimed. 

(Jazz had a hunch that Jason was so in tune with his haunt that he instinctively knew when she or Danny stepped foot across his boundary.) 

(They tried not to linger, out of respect of another’s haunt of course.) 

Then again, Jason was the Baby Liminal between the two of them. Danny and Jazz should be offering him to share a haunt for protection. 

(Jazz couldn’t help but wonder what Jason looked like as a child.) 

(She would bet almost anything that he was an adorable kid.) 

(Would their kids be so cute?)

There was a slight lilt of sadness that lingered over the daytime hero, Signal, that Danny almost choked on his Death Wish. 

The coffee, that is. 

Little late on the literal bit. 

Gotham (city, not the Lady) was an ever-gloomy fruit basket full of ghastly vibes. You see it and you know you’re in for a bad time, but that’s typically at night. 

So what was up with Sunshine Child? 

Yeah, he was clearly human and allowed to have off days, duh, but for it to hang like a shroud of storm clouds over Sunny? Yeah, no. That shit needs to be gone, like yesterday. 

“Hey, Sunshine!” Danny called out with a false cheer. It was too damn early in the morning for real cheer, are you mad, but Signal didn’t seem to notice as he approached the lawn chair the Halfa had decided would be his new throne. 

(At least Jazz would find it funny.) 

“Hi Danny. Can I help you with something?” 

Danny took a loud sip of his coffee before he went straight for the throat, “You’re doom and gloom this morning, Sunny. Whose bones do I need ‘ta steal?” 

“No, no, it’s fine. Just…” the meta Hero trailed off, voice tired as he let himself relax for a moment in Danny’s presence. 

(That’s right, Danny’s just a friendly civilian teenager with anger issues, right?)

(Oh he would be cackling at that lie when he had a moment to himself again.)

“My brother is missing.”

Danny blinked. 

“Your brother? One of the birdies?” He tried very hard not to pull out any of his jokes about traffic lights and Stabby Robin, but at least he didn’t sound condescending? 

“Sorta. Red Hood… he went off grid about a week and a half ago.”

(Yeah this isn’t something Danny should be privy to.) 

(Like at all.) 

(It’s not like he was housing the guy in his home right?) 

(Oh wait.) 

“Yikes, Sunny. That sucks, ‘m sorry.”

Signal sighed, “Yeah, thanks Danny.” He paused again, studying the canonical adoption bait that was Danny Fenton before he dropped a bombshell. 

“Batman thinks he’s dead.” 

(Danny almost cackled in manic glee at that statement.)

(Overshot the mark there, Bats. Yikes.) 

Danny happily waved goodbye to his meta friend, a dorky salute with his coffee cup in commersiation of a shitty hour of the day to be awake, before he leaned back in his lawn chair and yawned. 

“Oh, what drama. Jazz is gonna kill me all the way if she finds out.” He said out loud to no one in particular. The occasional shade that kept him company didn’t bother to move at the sound of his voice now that Signal had left, but it did let out a mournful trill that made Dannny chuckle. 

“Yeah, yep, you’re right- when, when, Jazz finds out.” Danny laughed again, “Worth it.” 

A/N:

Yeah, I wasn't expecting so much angst either, but apparently, that's my jam, because I literally cannot write anything else. Well, anything that doesn't sound like two robots trying to mimic humans at least.

This was supposed to be a more upbeat entry and look how epically I failed. I had to put a content warning up top because I wrote/heavily implied that Jazz was abused by Vlad due to his obsession with Maddie.

In other news, I have a playlist now for what songs I listen to while writing this. It's called 'Guns & Sword: Jazz on' 'cause 2am me thinks she's clever.

[samgirl98]

Mending a Family 19/?

Prev | Next

Danny had a secret he was keeping from Jazz and daddy.

He held the wavy knife in his tiny hands.

After Talia left (and Danny had gotten a lecture from his dad and Jazz about leaving with dangerous assassins around), Danny went to his room and found the knife under his pillow.

Danny didn’t know how Talia did it, but he knew she was the one who had left it there.

It was beautiful.

It was made of silver and had a green hilt with gold designs. He didn’t know what material the curved hilt was made of, but he hoped it wasn’t real gold. Danny knew if he told his dad about it, he would take it away until Danny was older. Danny held the knife close to him before going under his bed and hiding the knife under the floorboards. He used his intangibility.

He could keep this one secret from his daddy and Jazz.

“What are you doing under there, kiddo?”

Danny hit his head on the bed in surprise. His daddy had entered Danny’s room without Danny noticing.

Papa was getting too good at hiding his presence.

“Nothing, I was just looking for something,” he lied while rubbing the top of his head.

“Let me see if you got a bump, chum.”

Danny let his dad prod his head.

“Well, there’s no swelling. Does it hurt a lot?”

“No, it’s already feeling better.”

“Good. What were you looking for? Maybe I can help.”

“No!”

Danny suddenly felt guilty and looked down at his feet.

Jason stilled. His son was dispelling feelings of guilt.

“Danny, is there something you want to tell me?”

Danny bit his lip before shaking his head.

Jason tilted his head. He knew Danny was hiding something but didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing. He could be making something to surprise them later. Maybe he found something that he wanted to keep for himself.

It could also be something dangerous, though.

Jason knelt at Danny’s level and touched his son’s shoulder.

“Whatever it is that you’re…looking for, is it dangerous?”

“No…maybe.”

Alarm bells started blaring in Jason’s head.

“What is it, chum?”

He was trying to keep a level head, but what if Danny had something that could or was harming him?

Jazz came to Danny’s door and looked at both of them.

“What’s wrong?”

Danny sighed. He would be badgered until he spilled the beans, so he might as well tell them. Maybe they wouldn’t be too mad.

Danny hesitated for a moment, “Talia left me something when she was here.”

Jason stilled and then felt anger rising.

“What did she leave you, Danny?”

Danny flinched at daddy’s tone. He sounded so angry already.

Jason took a deep breath and tried to calm down. He couldn’t believe Talia had entered their home and left Danny something without Jason’s knowledge.

“A knife.”

Of course. Of fucking course, Talia left his son a weapon.

“Can I see it?”

Danny went under the bed and took out a Kris dagger. Anyone who was in the know would recognize the dagger as League. Also, the colors and decorations on it would point straight to the Al Ghul line.

Talia had claimed Danny.

Jason gritted his teeth, not recognizing his feelings.

He saw Talia as a mother, but she wasn’t a very good one. She ignored boundaries, did what she wanted, and was controlling. She was almost like a deadly female version of Bruce. However, she was trying, in her weird way, to show that she cared for Jason and Danny.

A day before his birthday, Jason had received a myriad of swords and daggers, all with the Al Ghul green and gold. She was showing she cared in the only way she knew how.

Still, he wished she could show she cared for Danny without giving his son deadly weapons.

“Danny, you should’ve told us about this. We have to know these kind of things to keep you and Ellie safe,” Jazz scolded.

“I’m sorry,” Danny said, “Are you mad, dad?”

“No, I’m not. Talia is complicated. I don’t like that you hid a dangerous weapon from me, though.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Okay, I’m taking this and putting it away until you can learn how to use it. If Jazz is okay with it, I’ll teach you a few self-defense moves, and then we can graduate with knife work.”

“Really? That means you won’t take my knife away from me?”

“Whether I like it or not, it was a gift from Talia. It’s better that you know how to use it than to keep it away from you. However, you’re grounded again. It’s okay for you to keep things to yourself as long as it isn’t a danger to you or those around you.”

“The Kris dagger was not something you should’ve kept to yourself. We have to know when someone breaches our defenses to secure the place better. What if it wasn’t Talia that left you the dagger? We have to think about these things, Danny.”

That…made a lot of sense.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven,” Jason said, “Now, off to bed with you.”

“How long will I be grounded?”

“Jazz and I will talk about that tonight. Right now, it’s past your bedtime.”

Danny nodded and was glad to see his dad still tucked him in (he ignored the sixteen-year-old in him, saying it was embarrassing.)

Jason kissed Danny’s forehead and left his son (God, he had a son) to sleep.

Jazz was waiting for him in the kitchen; she was tapping her foot. Jason could feel her anger and fear.

“I’ll talk to Talia,” he said while putting the dagger on the table. He shone under the lights.

“What kind of person gives a five-year-old a knife?”

“Someone who was raised by assassins.”

Jazz sighed.

“He won’t let it go, now. He may look five, but the sixteen-year-old is in there somewhere, and he likes weapons.

Jason nodded.

“That’s why I want to start teaching him safety. I’ll teach him a few defense moves and use a fake knife to teach him about safety. We should get on top of this,” Jason said, resigned.

He didn’t want Danny anywhere near weapons and fighting, but he knew it would be a losing battle.

Damn you, Talia.

Jazz thought about it for a few seconds and nodded.

“Okay, but I am on the condition that I join.”

“That’s fine,” Jason said.

Jason hid the knife in the safe in the back of the closet, sent Talia a message, and went to bed.

@itsberrydreemurstuff @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @skulld3mort-1fan @theauthorandtheartist @emergentpanda-blog @jaggedheart11 @fisticuffsatapplebees @booberrylizard @fantasticbluebirdfan @thegatorsgooseoose @cyrwrites @kjoboo91 @crystallicedart @amaramizuki666 @spekulatiusmuffin @meira-3919 @kilasmess @bubblemixer @lexdamo @wonderland-daisy @mj-arts-n-stuff @amyheart19 @dolfay @the-church-grimm @undead-essence @aph-mable @lizisipancardo @purrloin77 @writer-extraodinaire @charlietheepic7 @sinfulloccultist @nootherusernameworked @coruscateselene @chaoticchange @itsberrydreemurstuff @gmkelz11 @feral-bunny31 @paroovian @thatonegaybitch68 @d4ydr34min9 @overtherose @fandomwandererer @vipower001 @thordottir45 @blackrabbitt3t @rosecinnamonbun @bianca-hooks123 @epilepticnerd @dat1angel @consouling @flamingenchiladadragon @all-mights-asscheeks

[kodared]

☆ Welcome home Neighbor~! ☆

----------

Human Reader x Welcome Home!

The fight begins, but doesn't quite go as planned.

Chapter 11/?

Word Count: 3,255 out of 35,282

----------

The plan was supposed to be simple, Barnaby and Howdy distract Home, while the others grab Y/N and get out of there. If Howdy had any say in the matter, he would do much worse to Home than only distract them. 

                     Howdy and Barnaby went to Home first while the others prepared, as the two moved closer they could see the eyes that were once in Homes curtains now eerily shut. They had never seen Home without their eyes open, it sent chills up both of their spines.

…Barnaby's paw hadn’t even reached the door before it flung open, revealing Wally leaning on the doorway as if he had been expecting their arrival. 

                      “Barnaby! To what do I owe the pleasure?..” 

    Howdy walked behind Barnaby, placing a consoling hand on his shoulder. Howdy knew this wasn't Wally, and Barnaby knew it as well. 

So with a deep breath, Barnaby let a small snarl take hold of his face as he spoke to Home. 

“Where's Y/N?…”

Home let out a laugh as Barnaby continued to snarl, a faint growl kicking up in the back of his throat as Howdy pulled him back by his shoulder. Clearly not want a fight between the two breaking out before they could save Y/N. 

“My my!... Whats gotten you so upset Barnaby?...” 

Barnaby wasn’t one to calm down easily, and if Howdy wanted any chance of saving Y/N he would have to distract Home. 

         Howdy pushed his growling friend behind him as he stepped forward, putting himself between the two as he tried to make his tone non-confrontational despite how angry and anxious he truthfully was. 

“...We only ask because... We need them for Sallys' play!.. You of all people should know that Wally, you suggested it to happen tonight,” 

Howdy could feel a cold sweat forming on the back of his neck as Home looked up at him, Wallys' wide eyes looking into his very soul as if they could see through his lie so clearly.

           Howdy knew he had to keep a convincing face, so he tried his best to put on a compelling smile as Home began to let out a stoic laugh. 

“HaHaHa, Of course, how could I forget. Well, I hate to say it but Y/N is not here.” 

Howdy held his breath at Homes blatant denial. He and everyone else knew for a fact Y/N was in there, but without Homes confirmation, he and Barnaby would have to distract Home in another way. 

“...Well that's a darn shame, say Wally whaddya say we head down to Sallys right now!.. I'm sure they could use our help with somethin,” 

Howdy unclasped his hands that were once behind his back to make jazz hands, intentionally bumping Barnaby a bit to get him to help persuade Home into leaving with them. 

They both knew this wasn't Wally. But if they got Home away for long enough, they could restrain him and get more time to save Y/N. 

Barnaby gave Howdy a confused look before quickly picking up on the plan to get Home away from the location. Barnaby gave a small smile to Wally despite the way his eyebrows continued to furrow in anger. 

“Yeah..! C'mon bud it'll be fun, an’ it would do ya some good to get out of the house today.” 

Despite the narrowed eyes, Wally gave Barnaby for the comment of getting out of the house, he seemed to let out a sigh and step out of the House. 

“I suppose it would do some good to Get out, Lead the way!..” 

The smile that Wally wore looked strained. As if there was something nagging and chipping away at the back of his mind, and as Howdy looked at him, he knew he was worried about Y/N escaping. 

And he was right to worry. 

…As the Trio walked away, Frank watched from his window as the group approached Sallys house. Frank quickly motioned for Sally to go out the back and help them distract Wally while they got Y/N out safely. 

Sally gave a determined nod before heading out, and once Frank saw all four enter her house without issue, he began Phase 2. 

Frank grabbed the notepad that Y/N had written on and skimmed it over one final time before heading out with Poppy, Julie, and Eddie. Frank couldn't help but feel his anxiety begin to brim in the back of his mind before he pushed it away with a deep breath. 

He couldn't afford to let his own anxiety get in the way. 

They all approached the front door of Home, Frank turned around and gave a final nod of confirmation before opening the door. 

The inside of the house was dark, it felt a little… Damp as well. Frank didn't know what to think before he turned around and went to motion for the others to follow. 

…But there was no door behind him anymore. 

He almost let out a yelp at the sight of the missing door and wall before stopping himself. Frank also could no longer see any windows. The dampness in the air made his throat feel tight, but he had to keep going. 

Frank turned around and walked forward with his hands slightly out in front of him, he had half a mind to begin calling out for Y/N until he heard a small noise nearby. 

If he hadn't been on such high alert he may have brushed it off to be a mouse or even just the building settling, but despite this, he still found himself confused. 

The noise had echoed. Which was something not feasible with the sheer size of Homes interior, or at least he thought he was inside Homes interior. He had been over to visit Wally a few times, and in all of his memories, he didn't remember it being this… Spacious. 

Frank also had no recollection of the ceiling being as high up as it now was. Frank could see the faintest of outlines of what appeared to be overhead lights that stretched higher than he could see. It reminded him of studio lighting that Sally often used. 

He shook his head and continued in the direction of the noise, his shaky breath echoing through the large building as his dress shoes clacked against the hard floors beneath him.

Frank in his fear didn't think to check where he was walking, and as he progressed he felt himself trip on something with his hands taking most of the damage as he fell forward. 

He groaned as he turned to look behind himself to see what he tripped on, and of course, he couldn't see for shit. 

Frank let out a groan as he sat up and felt around the floor, if he couldn't see he might as well try to feel what he tripped on. His hands met a Cube cardboard texture, Frank was confused before it clicked he tripped on a box that was filled with some items. 

Frank pulled the box closer to himself as he tried to pry it open, and after a few moments, he successfully ripped the tape and put a hand in. 

Frank felt past all of the packing peanuts and finally touched a few plastic boxes that were hidden beneath.

The items inside felt like they were individually wrapped, so without much thought, he opened one of the packages.

It felt cylindrical in Franks hand as he held it, his other hand pushing away the bigger box and the now ripped-up packaging. 

He felt a button on the side and clicked it, Frank foolishly had it pointing towards himself and was met with a blinding light. 

Frank was startled for a moment before he moved it away from his face and realized he somehow found a flashlight, which was going to prove to be useful to him, especially in this dark building. 

After a few seconds of blinking away the small tears that formed in his eyes from the bright light, he finally collected himself to look at the appearance of the flashlight and what else was in the box he tripped on. 

The box had a sun and moon logo Design on the side, most definitely a company. As he investigated more inside the Box he saw it was filled to the brim with flashlights. 

…All of which are customized with different artworks of his friends' faces.

He felt unnerved, to say the least. 

Taking a shaky breath Frank finally stood on his wounded ankle, which became twisted after he tripped over the box. 

Frank was able to see the exact flashlight he was holding now in the light that reflected, and he could see it was orange with small envelopes decorating it. Most definitely an Eddie-themed flashlight, it provided him a slight amount of comfort. 

Pushing forward to what was more important he looked ahead and was able to confirm his suspicion that he was no longer inside Home. 

The walls of this building appeared to be worn and aged with time. Various papers littered the floor and posters that used to have designs on them now hung sadly from the concrete walls. 

It all was much too creepy for Frank, but he had to persist to save his friend and find his other friends that he lost somehow by entering Home. 

He walked forward, his shoes that once clacked against the floor now deafened by the number of papers that littered the floor. Frank took care to not trip again on the boxes that were scattered about in no particular manner, the place looked abandoned. 

Frank heard the small noise again to his left and quickly pivoted on his heel to see what caused it, his ears rang as he focused all his attention on the silence to see if he could pick up any other noise. 

…And after a few moments, he heard it again. 

The noise that followed this time was much louder than expected. It sounded as if a chair had fallen over, with something attached to it.

Without missing a beat Frank sprang into action, quickly running towards the noise with little to no consideration to his own wellbeing. The items on the floor also changed on the ground below him as he continued in the large warehouse, he could see the scattered papers become less and less frequent as he continued.

In Frank's haste, he didn't see the large filming camera on the ground, and he found himself falling for the second time today, he was starting to feel like Eddie. 

….Maybe it was the flashlight. 

Frank's funny thought was stopped quickly as he looked up from where he had tripped, and he was horrified at the sight in front of him. 

He was met with a replica of Home perched in the center of the room atop a metal stand. It make Frank freeze for a moment till he realized it wasn't actually Home, it was only a fake. 

The eyes that he could only assume once opened were now rusted over, from what he could only assume was from years of abandonment. Large puppeteering cranks were positioned off to the side, which again he guessed operated it, like a puppet.

This place held a strong sense of deja vu for Frank that he couldn't quite place… Almost as if he had heard about it before. 

Pushing through his sense of deja vu, he stood and lightly brushed himself off before warily pressing an open hand to the worn-down door. He had a feeling the noise came from inside, and now he could confirm his suspicions. 

—------------------

Eddie watched as Frank disappeared into the darkness of Homes interior, he couldn't reach a hand to stop him before the door slammed shut. 

Poppy was the first to speak after they watched him disappear, Julie was much too frantic to get a coherent sentence out. 

“Oh, I just knew this would happen!.. We should have left it be, Franks now who knows where and..!” 

Eddie knew Poppy was just worried for Frank, but it made Eddie feel a twinge of anger that Poppy would insinuate they should have left it alone. 

“They’ll be alright Miss Poppy, if I know anythin’ it's that Frank is strong, and will save them.” 

Eddie took a deep breath as his hand fidgeted with his wedding ring, he hoped Frank would be okay, actually no, he knew Frank would be okay. His husband was anything but weak, and he had all the faith in the world that he would get through this. 

“Now… I do believe we should be headin’ over to Sallys. They could surely use our help keepin’ Home distracted.” 

Eddie turned to look at Julie who was still shaking like a leaf before his eyes, he put a comforting hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze, trying his best to ground her back to the situation at hand. 

It worked to some extent, Julie still looked terrified but as she met Eddie's eyes he could see the familiar determined spark that both her and Sally shared. 

Eddie led the group to Sallys' house, and as they approached Poppy couldn't help but have her feathers ruffled at the sounds coming from inside. 

From outside the neighbors could hear something crash and shatter. 

The Shining Stars door was locked, despite this Eddie continued to rattle the handle in a panic. After a few seconds, the door opened to reveal Wally standing in the doorway with his head cocked to the side. 

“Ah, Hello neighbor! You're just in time for the play.” 

Eddie was at a loss for words, this was very clearly not the same Wally he knew and cared for. This Wally spoke more eloquently and more stuck up than the humble and mellow Wally he was used to calling his friend. 

“You're not Wally.” 

The words flew out of Eddie's mouth like venom. The memories and pain of Homes resets stabbing and plunging into his chest like a hot knife.

“And youre off script.” 

Eddie froze at his words and immediately regretted his immediate anger at Home as he felt something melding into his wrist with a burning hot pain, he looked behind him only to see Poppy and Julie wrapped in the same Thread as him. 

“I think its time I fix this Neighborhood.” 

—---------------

Frank's open hand shook as he applied pressure to open the door but to no avail. The rusted door clearly was not going to open without the assistance of something stronger than him. 

He shined his flashlight around the open space to get a better view of what he could use to pry the door open, where his eyes caught something that was hung on the wall. 

Frank's shoes clicked against the concrete floors as he walked to the cement wall with a paper taped to it, his eyes staring in amazement at the poster. 

It was a small article, but it was for some reason taped right in the center of the wall, almost as if it was trying to encapture his attention as he read….

‘Head Producer of Welcome Home missing Overnight!

The PlayFellow Studios' one and only Mr. Domum is nowhere to be found as we approach the busiest season of the year, Many are asking if the supposed Haunted Dolls had anything to do with it! To which we have brought a special guest, Please welco..-!’ 

…Frank couldn't read anymore before he heard something clatter to the ground and shatter inside the replica Home, Frank quickly went back to the task at hand and scanned the area for anything to help him. 

He couldn't find anything, so without a moment to spare he quickly ran to the side window of the house and raised his flashlight, muttering quick apologies to anyone who owned the property before putting his whole body weight into shattering the glass. 

Frank felt the glass give way underneath his light and quickly shined it inside as he pushed the many curtains out of the way. 

“Y/N?!.. Are you there?!..” 

Frank waited for a second in eerie silence as he listened, hearing something slam against the floor with a quiet thump before he decided to go in. 

He carefully grabbed ahold of the shattered frame and hoisted himself inside, he could feel the pressure on his palm as he felt glass go into his hand, but that didn't matter right now. 

Frank made his way quickly to the back room of the house, he knew the layout pretty well seeing as it was almost a direct replica of the Home he's grown to know. 

He could see Wallys' iconic chair sitting in the center of the room turned on its back, and as he shined his light on it he could see torn threads on the arms of the plush recliner. 

He cautiously stepped forward before freezing as he heard a noise coming from the kitchen nearby. It sounded like someone was struggling to stand, and as he slowly turned his flashlight to look at the figure approaching him, he felt his stuffing run cold. 

It was so painfully you, it was you in the flesh. 

And that's why he was so afraid. 

He could see exactly where Home had wrapped their threads into your arms, and precisely where they ended. Thankfully, the red strings stopped as they reached your shoulders, if they had reached any closer to your brain your memories would be good as gone. 

“Y/N!.. Oh thank goodness,” 

Frank quickly walked over to you and helped you stand, he could clearly see you were disoriented and tired. Homes threads act like venom, and he knew it all too well. 

“I know it seems scary, but everything is going to be okay. Just sit for a moment,” 

Frank gently guided you to sit down on the wooden floor as your legs shook, Frank quickly walked to the kitchen and went to look for any sort of scissors to get you out of the situation you were in. 

After finding a decent pair of kitchen scissors he walked back over and propped the flashlight on the floor, he untied his tie and handed it to you as he spoke.

“I want you to bite on this okay? It's going to hurt, but it has to be done, I promise ill be fast unstringing you,” 

Frank spoke with delicate caution as if he had done this before, he hoped you would trust him and not put up a fight with him, and thankfully you where smart enough to know to trust Frank. 

You took the tie in your mouth as Frank positioned himself to snip the first thread that poked out of your skin, you braced and the initial pain didn't come, Frank looked up at you sympathetically. 

“It'll be over fast,” 

He didn't give you time to brace as he quickly pulled out the snipped thread from your skin, an icy hot pain shot through your spine as it unstrung from your very being. You didn't know anymore where Home began and you ended in your mind, you feel as if you've been here for so long. 

Like a puppet loosely strung, you slumped against the wall as you let Frank unthread you, you knew by the end of this you owed him an explanation. 

And oh boy did you have one hell of a story to tell him. 

-------

I hope you enjoyed!! Again sorry this took so long to get out and published! Hopefully since things have slowed down irl i can get some more writing done!

As always i have a Ao3 Where i post too! Feel free to look over there as well!

Koda out<3 ʕง•ᴥ•ʔง

[chaos-bringer-13]

Jazz's little. Her parents are super cool. They're ghost hunters! It sounds like something from a movie about future and scientists and supernatural beings and cool-looking tech. They have cool-looking tech at home. It's even cooler than tech in the movies.

Jazz also has a little brother. He's stupid but he's hers, and she will protect him from anything. Her brother is very small, he needs someone to protect him and teach him about the world.

She knows about the world. She understands their parents much better than him, and she can tell her brother when they shouldn't be distracted. She knows when they're upset and irritable, and she knows when they're too excited and being near them is dangerous because of all the inventions.

Jazz does a very good job keeping her little brother safe.

---

Jazz goes to school. Her teachers say that she's very smart, the best student in class, and very mature. Her parents are proud of her - when she manages to distract them from ghosts. Her brother is still kinda stupid and doesn't know how to properly fight food, but she's always there to protect him, because that's what older sisters do.

Her classmates seem to think that she's weird though. Some of them say mean things and call her a teacher's pet and a show-off. Jazz isn't sure why they think so because she's always trying to be friendly but maybe she's doing something wrong. She goes to the school library and finds a book about people and their communication.

It's a very interesting book.

---

Jazz is almost a teen. She's gotten better at communicating with people. The school library ran out of psychology books, and Jazz now has to go to the city library but that's fine. Human brain fascinates her.

She's been feeling like something is wrong about her though. She even thought that she was going crazy for a little bit. That probably wasn't true because she didn't match any symptoms but she was still worried.

Someone told her that being so good at lying and faking face expressions is not okay. That's probably not true, Jazz is pretty sure almost everyone can do that. Or maybe she's just being a prodigy again. It's a very good thing to be able to do after all. She can hide her emotions from her family when she's feeling sad. She wouldn't want to worry them, would she?

She'll have to research it.

---

Jazz is a teen. She now knows that her parents aren't actually that good. It's something that was really hard to accept but it did explain everything. Her parents are kinda bad at being parents, and they also don't really listen when she tries to explain it to them.

It's okay. She's almost an adult and Danny has her. She can take care of herself and her brother.

She learns everything she can about being a parent and a therapist and tries to use her knowledge. It's hard, but she's a Fenton, which means that she's very smart and determined. She pushes through, and trains on her classmates and herself.

In the evening she writes about her feelings in a journal. It's very important to be aware of her feelings because that's the first step to dealing with them.

She's experiencing sadness. And anger, actually, even though she doesn't like to admit that.

She writes "this family is a fucking mess" in her journal and then covers the paper with ink until the sentence is absolutely unreadable.

---

Jazz is sixteen, and her stupid parents opened the stupid portal, which means that they're even worse than usual. It's pretty much okay when they're just stuck in their stupid lab, making some stupid weapons. It's not that okay when they're out of the stupid lab, because they get their stupid inventions all over the stupid house, and stupid food comes to life, and she has to protect Danny from both their stupid weapons and stupid hotdogs, and oh god everything is so stupid.

She's experiencing anger.

She's also acting perfectly calm and almost cheerfully.

Jazz hates how perfect her fake smile is in the mirror.

---

Jazz is seventeen. She wants to put her headphones on and listen to some loud music. Jazz can't do that, because she gets anxious if she can't hear what's happening around her. She needs to be fully aware of her surroundings because she needs to be able to protect herself and her brother if weapons against ghosts become weapons against children again.

She thinks that it's not okay.

The house smells of ectoplasm, so she'll be extra careful when opening the fridge.

She thinks that she shouldn't know how ectoplasm smells.

Jazz should probably also warn Danny: her little brother's gotten better at fighting food but doesn't notice the smell of ectoplasm. Funny, considering his ghost sense.

Funny, considering that her brother is a half-ghost.

That her brother died.

That she failed at protecting him after all.

Jazz stops breathing to prevent herself from crying, and doesn't need oxygen for a few minutes too long.

Maybe she failed at protecting herself too.

---

Jazz is turning eighteen next month. Her parents are all of a sudden more attentive and caring, as if that can change their almost-absence during her whole life. She doesn't like their attention because she doesn't know how to deal with it. She doesn't even really think of them as parents anymore.

She thinks of them as a threat.

Once she's eighteen, she's gonna try to move out, and she's going to take Danny with her because it's not safe to leave him here. Maybe after she gets a good job and saves some money, she'll even get into therapy.

Jazz thinks that she needs therapy.

She's been having Bad Thoughts lately, and she doesn't write them down in her journal. Jazz stopped writing anything in there ever since she found out that Danny is a ghost. She just couldn't risk anyone finding that journal.

Jazz isn't sure if she should call those Bad Thoughts intrusive. They scare her, and they're Bad, but it could be just her normal thought process.

It's still definitely not normal.

---

Jazz is eighteen. Her parents are very excited, whispering to each other about how they found a perfect present for her, some surprise that she's gonna love.

She doesn't care.

Her little brother is late from school, and it's weird, because he was also super excited about giving her his present.

She's worried.

Her parents brush off her concern, say that Danny probably just got distracted talking with his friends. They don't listen when she says that Danny wouldn't get distracted like that on her birthday because he's not them, he actually cares about her, he doesn't forget her birthdays, and something has to be wrong for him to be that late.

They don't listen to her at all.

She's angry.

Her parents are excited and talk loudly about how they wanted to find a perfect gift for their favourite daughter, and how they managed to do it because they love her so much. She hates when they're excited. It only leads to problems.

They bring her to the lab because of course they do, why would they make a gift that is normal and isn't kept in the lab, right? They usher her in, so obviously proud of themselves.

She hates them.

And she hates them much, much more the next second, because the gift is her little brother in his ghost form, strapped to a table, unconscious and injured, and the smell of ectoplasm is strong in the lab because of his green blood dripping on the floor.

There's a cold part of her that analyses her feelings and tells her what emotions she's experiencing, and that part is very aware of thick black smoke of wrath twirling and twisting under her skin. It's suffocating, and she stops breathing as it invisibly fills her lungs, scared of letting it out.

There's a perfectly fake part of her that keeps the smile on her face as her parents gush about how hard it was to catch the ecto-scum, and what they can do to it - together with Jazz because they wanted to share this with their amazing daughter.

Jazz is black smoke of rage under perfect glass of calmness when she grabs Fenton anti-creep stick. The smile she learned to fake under any circumstances doesn't falter when Jazz brings the baseball bat down on her father's head. It grows a little bit wider when she hits her mother, because Jazz learned to smile brighter when she's hurt or sad or scared or angry - experiencing any "bad" emotion actually.

Jazz is angry when she grabs her weapon.

Jazz is furious when she kills her parents.

Jazz is worried when she checks her brother's wounds.

Jazz feels nothing when she rigs the portal to blow, walks out of the house and presses the button.

She is her parents' genius daughter after all, and she did listen when they were telling her about their inventions. Maybe it would have taken longer to do, but she had Bad Thoughts, and they probably weren't just intrusive after all, because she did what they told her and made it very easy to make a bomb out of a portal. Just in case. Her parents were a threat, and Jazz was smart enough to prepare to dealing with threats, and she was smart enough to make it look like the threats dealt with themselves.

She really hoped she wouldn't have to use that button though.

---

Jazz is nineteen. Her sort-of-friends at uni offer to go to a restaurant, and she tells them that she doesn't celebrate her birthdays. There's a noise of all of them saying that maybe she should try, noise that she really should have expected, because humans are always so excited about any holidays, it's hard for them to understand that someone might not like them. It's not hard to stop that noise though. They shut up very quickly when Jazz says that she had "a very traumatic event" on her birthday.

Good. She doesn't like loud people.

Jazz goes home to her little brother. He's sad because his parents died in an awful explosion a year ago. He's still trying to smile because it's also her birthday, and Jazz is very happy that he's bad at faking a smile.

It means that he won't end up like her.

Jazz hugs her little brother, and he gives her a little present that she adores, and then they sit in silence and eat some takeout. It's very nice.

She never tells Danny that their parents died before the explosion, and that the explosion wasn't an accident, and that their ghosts did form after that because of all the ecto-contamination they had, but she made sure this wouldn't become a problem. She never tells him what she's done, because that would hurt her little brother, and she would never let anything hurt him.

Jazz will protect her little brother from anything.

[macabr3-barbi3]

God, That's Good!

Chapter 3: My Friends

Alastor has something that belonged to the barber in a past life- and Lucifer makes a deal.

Act 1:  Chapter 1 🥧 Chapter 2 🥧 Chapter 3 🥧 Chapter 4 🥧Chapter 5 🥧 Chapter 6  🥧Chapter 7 🥧 Chapter 8 🥧 Chapter 9 🥧 Chapter 10 🥧 Chapter 11

Tags: uhhh revenge? brooding? Everything is going so slowly right now, I promise it will pick up after we do our shows this weekend! (Thank you to @fraugwinska for her Show Week knowledge and making me wait and not post everything written as soon it's done- I'm probably not going to be getting much writing done this week because of rehearsals and shows so she is keeping me on track! I LOVE YOU FRAU)

The decor in the apartment in the back is more subdued than the front- still a lot of red, but the things that hang on the walls are more tasteful- paintings and newspaper clippings line the walls of the hallway, more soft jazz emanating from somewhere deeper into the apartment. “I found them upstairs when I purchased the building and shop from my mentor,” Alastor says as he leads Lucifer back. “He did a better job than I have of keeping people out of the place, so they were undisturbed when I went up to rummage around. I could have sold them, you know,” he adds, casting an eye back to Lucifer. “But they were such high quality, I wasn’t sure I would even be able to get what they were worth. Any profit is a profit, I suppose, but I wanted to make sure they were done justice- and I’m glad I had an inkling to hang onto them!”

He leans down into a chest at the foot of his bed, and Lucifer realizes that he’s been led into the man’s bedroom- he hardly has time to blush at the sudden intimacy before Alastor is standing again, looming over Lucifer when he turns with a decorative box in his hands, held gently between their bodies. His voice catches in his throat when he recognizes the walnut, the delicate wood burning that adorns the lid, the lovingly engraved ‘DD’ in the bottom corner.

He was a fresh twenty-one years old when he decided that he wanted to be a barber, to Judge Cain and Adam’s disappointment; they wanted him to join them. But they had supported him in his decision regardless, presenting him with these razors at his and Lilith’s wedding as a gift, a way to start his business on the right foot with the finest tools that money could buy. Lucifer had cried receiving them, the Judge had cried at his emotion, and Adam had been quiet and pensive- which, he now recognized, was likely due to the legalized relationship between himself and Lilith than any familial emotions at the gift. 

He was near obsessive in his care of them as his business started and took off- he would allow no one to touch them or clean them, taking a soft rag to them after close each night and storing them adoringly back in their box. They stayed in the barbershop, away from where a curious Charlie could accidentally grab them and hurt herself or anyone else. Lilith teased him about it constantly, claiming that he loved them more than he loved her, and he would smile and pull her into his arms and mutter about how the razors were less likely to talk back to him. And she would smile and laugh and pull him into the sweetest kiss right there on the couch, and in that little bubble everything was perfect.

They’re heavy in his hands now as he opens the lid and extracts one from the box, Alastor silent and observant when Lucifer inspects it, noticing a spot of blood on one of the handles. Not from himself- he made sure they were clean before he put them away every night, which meant that sometime in the last fifteen years they had been in use. He makes an inquisitive noise in his throat, something not quite anger- it feels suspiciously like jealousy- bubbling in his chest, and Alastor makes his soft humming noise. “My apologies-  it seemed a shame to let them sit in disuse! I admit I’ll occasionally pull them out when my own blades will not suffice.”

Lucifer doesn’t answer- he doesn’t mind, truthfully. The thought of them having just sat in their box for fifteen years- unused, uncared for, alone- made him far sadder than the vague dismay at someone else having used them. That they hadn’t been stolen, reclaimed by the Cain family when he was sent off and Lilith passed, was a miracle. They were still here waiting for him after all this time- the only thing that was still here upon his return, even if his family wasn’t. 

He opens the blade, the sharp edge catching the light and glinting in a familiar way. They were beautiful instruments, and had been such a thoughtful gift from Adam and his father. To think they would give him something like this and then still do what they had done to him… an unforgivable betrayal. “This is… all I have left,” Lucifer says, his voice thick in the space between himself and Alastor. “Of my life before.”

“Well, you have it back now,” Alastor says, and when Lucifer makes eye contact with the baker his expression is almost tender, a soft smile on his face while he’s watched Lucifer sift through his wild thoughts. “What will you do with it?”

“I will have my revenge.” The last word is nearly hissed, and when he looks up he half expects to see Alastor watching him with horror. But his expression hasn’t changed, the air between them charged with adrenaline and Lucifer’s wrath. He’s shaking, he realizes, the hand holding his open razor trembling mere inches away from Alastor’s abdomen. The baker’s face holds no fear though, calm and relaxed despite the sharp object in Lucifer’s hands. “I apologize,” he mutters, taking a step back and closing the razor, placing it carefully back in the box. “You have nothing to fear; I would never-”

“What, hurt me?” Alastor’s smile grows, a mischievous smirk as he looks Lucifer up and down. “No, I wouldn’t think so. Who else would allow you to stay rent free in the lodging above their shop?”

Lucifer’s hope rekindles. “You mean it? I’ll pay rent eventually, I can start shaving again perhaps- but knowing my plans as they are, I wouldn’t want to bring any trouble to your doorstep. Is there anything I can do to repay the favor?”

Alastor waves him down cheerfully. “Nothing at the moment, good fellow! We’ll call it a gesture in good faith for now- perhaps down the line I may have a favor to ask of you and you can square up then. How does that sound?”

“Deal!” He steals one of Alastor’s hands from under the box to shake it, his grip firm in his enthusiasm. His mind races- there was one less problem to worry about with Alastor’s generosity. Now he had to figure how he was actually going to access Adam and this Beadle character; perhaps if he could get his business running again the pair of them might come in for a shave. He could prove himself an accomplished barber somehow, gain a bit of a reputation and lure them to the shop above the bakery with tales of a free shave…

And then he would have them. 

From there he would find Charlie. It didn't sound like they kept her locked in the house all of the time- perhaps when she was out on the town he could approach her, explain who he was and what had happened to him, try to build the father and daughter relationship he had wanted for them when she was a girl. He had been so excited to watch her grow into her own person, the perfect accumulation of the best parts of Lucifer and Lilith. He would never get that now, the progression of her growth, but she was still his Charlie- he would love her to the day he died, even if she turned him away when she found out who he was.

A throat clears, and Lucifer realizes that he’s still clutching Alastor’s hand. He lets go, a blush flaming his cheeks as he coughs awkwardly and steps away. “Do you have the key?” He asks, just to say something, and Alastor chuckles before he reaches into his pocket for a keyring that he holds out. “Lead the way!” Lucifer steps aside and allows Alastor to lead him back down the hallway, through the connecting door to the pie shop.

Husker has returned, polishing glasses behind the counter. He nods to Alastor and casts a suspicious eye at Lucifer as they approach the door. “As you know, there’s two entry points- the door off the back that leads directly to the apartment, and the one off the front here that leads to your shop.” He disconnects two keys from the keyring and slips them into Lucifer’s hand. “I had the keys replaced when I took over- who knows what kinds of people my prior mentor allowed to have access?”

He looks down at the keys in his hand- not the familiar gunmetal gray that he and Lili had obtained from the owner, but a rich black that was smooth to the touch. “Right. I’ll… I’ll be right back, if you don’t mind waiting down here?”

“By all means!” He steps aside to let Lucifer pass, and he feels eyes on him all the way up the stairs, until he’s turned the key in the lock and entered what used to be his barbershop.

Carnage. From the years of vandals breaking in, as well as the shattered mirror on the floor from where Lucifer had fought off the police when Adam had them sent after him so long ago. Broken glass littered the floor, his combs and towels scattered around the room, the door between the shop and their home cracked down the middle and hanging off its hinges. Tears blur his vision as he steps through the doorway, most of their furniture and decorations left undisturbed. Charlie’s drawings have fallen from the wall and the refrigerator, family ‘portraits’ of the three of them holding hands, various animals and bugs and buildings that she came up with in her imaginative mind. He and Lilith had always made such a show of praising her for them, their sweet girl with her art and the little songs she made up and-

He turns away from the living room, heading back to the bedroom they had all shared, Charlie’s bed separated from theirs by a simple room divider- her walls are also covered in her drawings and scribbled song lyrics that she had come up with. His and Lilith’s bed is against the far wall, as far as they could get from Charlie so their more amorous activities didn’t disturb or wake her. Lilith had always wanted more than this place for them- that was part of why she wanted to move North, where property was cheaper and the spaces larger. She wanted Charlie to grow up in a proper house, not a one bedroom apartment off the side of his barbershop; she wanted to be a proper homemaker, a housewife, something she claimed couldn’t be done in such cramped quarters.

But they had all been together, the two of them in such deep, desperate love, unaware of the tragedy that was coming for them when Adam decided that he had had enough of his unreciprocated longing.

It’s too much. Lucifer stumbles back out of the apartment, through the barbershop, nearly falling down them in his haste. “Ah! What do you think of the place?” Alastor asks from his position at the bottom of the stairs, and Lucifer collapses onto the last step with his face in his hands.

“I can’t do it,” he says. “I can’t be there, in the apartment- there’s too many memories, too much sadness and nostalgia and… I just can’t.” He meets Alastor’s gaze, his expression unreadable. “I appreciate the generous offer but I’ll have to find something else.” 

A smile. “Nonsense, my dear! If you’re amenable to the arrangement, I do have a spare bedroom in my living quarters that you’re welcome to move into. I do occasionally have other matters to attend to so I won’t be home all the time, but you’re welcome to use the space as your own.” He doesn’t take the keys back from Lucifer, holding his hand out and pulling the shorter man to his feet.

“That’s… too kind,” Lucifer says, and again something scratches at the back of his mind telling him that the situation was too good to be true. But he has few other options if he wants to be close to the barbershop, and no chance of any place else allowing him to stay without money. “Your mother clearly raised you well, to be such a giving soul.”

Alastor laughs. “Perhaps I just really want to cash in on that favor you now owe me,” he says slyly, eyes narrowed like they’re co-conspirators in on a secret plot. “Come now- I’ll give you a proper tour!”

They go back inside, and Alastor mentions to Husker behind the bar that Lucifer would be his personal guest in his apartment out back- “what the fuck do I care about that?” The man had grumbled, and as they passed him Lucifer saw him take a full swig out of one of the bottles behind him. Alastor shows him to the spare room and the bathroom, leaving him with his razor box and a spare shaving soap.

He takes one of the blades out again, setting it behind the faucet while he lathers the soap with scalding water and spreads it across his cheeks and chin with his fingers. Opening the razor, he’s careful as he brings it to his skin- he already feels more normal than he has all day, and the first swipe across his stubble leaving smooth flesh behind is a blessing, a token of grace in a day of hardships and strife. He shaves his own face the way he did others; quickly, smoothly, efficiently. A few strokes and he’s finished, completely bare faced once again and looking nothing like the man he had been before.

Which felt… fitting. Because he wasn’t Damien Diggory anymore; father to a daughter that wouldn’t recognize him from a stranger on the street; husband to a woman rotting in the ground; friend to a man that had betrayed him and ruined the life he had once known.

There was only Lucifer Morningstar now- and there was work to be done.

Act 1:  Chapter 1 🥧 Chapter 2 🥧 Chapter 3 🥧 Chapter 4 🥧Chapter 5 🥧 Chapter 6  🥧Chapter 7 🥧 Chapter 8 🥧 Chapter 9 🥧 Chapter 10 🥧 Chapter 11

[mayajadewrites]

Levi Ackerman x Reader: Almost

Chapter Six: Coffee Ice Cream

Chapter Summary: We start off in Levi's POV, getting more insight on him and what he's thinking. He invites you over for TV and some ice cream. Nothing more. *tehe*

Fanfic Preface: Modern AU Levi Ackerman x Reader fanfic I’ve been dying to write! Levi is my latest hyper fixation so this was bound to happen. There will be other AOT characters in the mix, but remember this is a modern AU!

WARNING: SMUT AHEAD

ao3 link

☕︎⋆˙⟡♡☕ LEVI ☕︎⋆˙⟡♡☕

It's been a few days since our little incident. I didn't want to come off as obsessive, which I may or may not be, but I knew if I wanted this to last and bloom I needed to give her space to continue to be her own person.

"Mr. Ackerman, I've meal prepped for you for the next week and there's a load of laundry going." My housekeeper, Daisy, says as she fixes her apron. "Is there anything else you need me to do?"

"No, thanks Daisy." I nod for her to dismiss as I walk through my mansion.

Honestly, I'm not sure why I have a housekeeper. No one cleans like I do. I guess I keep her around for the cooking since I'm shit at that. Cleaning has always relieved my stress and makes me forget where I am in the world.

I didn't start off as a millionaire, almost billionaire. I started at the very bottom, with my mother.

We used to live in homeless shelters and sometimes strangers couches, until she fell ill because of our living circumstances. I watched my mother wither away in front of me, like a rose.

"Levi, promise me you will be something." I remember she said to me as she was taking her last few breaths. "Mommy will always watch over you."

Then she was gone.

Social services picked me up after that and I went to live with my aunt and uncle. They lived comfortably in middle class with no kids - lucky me.

I'd like to think mom would be happy with how far I've come.

☕︎⋆˙⟡♡☕

"Levi, your new assistant starts today. Don't run her off, please." Hange gives a pleading look. "She's nice."

"Nice and competent are two separate things." I continue to jot down notes from a contract I'm reading.

"Levi, this is Juliet. Your assistant." Hange walked into my office with, who I'm assuming is Juliet. She's young, with long blonde hair and brown eyes. Conventionally attractive.

"Nice to meet you Mr. Ackerman. What do you need me to do first? Do you want me to get you coffee?"

"I don't drink coffee. I drink tea. And I get that myself." I look up from my desk. "Hange, have her go over my schedule for meetings next week and make sure everything is in order."

"Sure thing boss." Hange left with Juliet, closing my door gently behind them. I have a therapy appointment today, thankfully it's virtual. I open my laptop and sign into the portal to initiate the meeting.

"Levi! You look good!" My therapist, Maria, smiles.

"Thank you. The camera probably smooths out my skin."

"So, tell me about your week. What are you feeling, what's going on, all that jazz."

"I punched a guy in the face last week."

"Levi! What did we talk about with your anger?"

"I did think it over. I thought before I punched, and after. I don't regret it."

Maria shook her head, bringing her glasses to the bridge of her nose. "Ay dios mio, you make my job so hard sometimes."

"That's why you get paid the big bucks, right?" I let out a rare chuckle.

"Why did you do that?"

Because he was touching whats mine.

"I thought he was going to take advantage of someone."

"Who's this someone?"

"I don't want to tell you about her yet. Then that means its serious."

"You punched a man because of her, that's not serious enough?"

"No. It's not. I'm 30 years old, Maria. I've never had a real relationship so I'm navigating it the only way I know how."

"Levi, she is not your mother. You can't treat her like she is a fragile human being. She has feelings, like you, and she is her own person. Does she want to be serious?"

"I'm not sure. We're ... dating? I guess that's different from being in a relationship."

"Ah, taking things slow. I see. Well, tell me about her."

"She works at my favorite coffee shop that I go to every day before work. Except I get tea. Anyways, I've seen her almost every day for 6 months and I've had long and short conversations with her. Only recently have we started seeing each other."

"And what are you scared of?" Maria's question stumped me.

I'm scared of everything.

I'm scared of losing her. I'm scared of losing what I have. I'm scared of starting a family only to have it ripped from me.

"Levi?" Maria snapped me out of my thoughts.

"I'm scared of, a lot. My feelings scare me. I feel, protective over her. I feel like I want to savor every moment we're together. I'm also scared she's going to run off once she truly sees my life."

I'm rich, like, filthy rich. She works hard for her money, lives alone, and has dreams of opening her own coffee shop. Which I can help with.

She's used to doing everything for herself. She doesn't have a housekeeper, a chef, none of that. She cooks, cleans, and does everything herself.

Everything I want in a woman is in her.

"You can't go around anticipating people leaving." Maria tapped her pen on her notebook. "You know what I say, everything happens for a reason. There's a reason you connected with her and there's a reason you feel the way you do about her. I don't think it would hurt to explore those feelings more."

After your therapy session, I decide I'm inviting her over for the first time. I want her to see how I am, in my house, and I want to observe how she is.

Me: Are you busy tonight?

Her: If by busy you mean I have a date with a pint of coffee ice cream and Grey's Anatomy, then yes.

Me: Would you like to do that here?

Her: Here is where?

She's gonna make me work for this.

Me: Here as in my house. I'll pick you up at 7.

☕︎⋆˙⟡♡☕ BRATTY BARISTA ☕︎⋆˙⟡♡☕

After getting ready for Levi's, you take a look at yourself in the mirror. Your outfit consists of leggings, crew socks, sneakers, a low cut tank top and a zip up hoodie. You can't lie, part of you wants Levi to continue what he started at your place last week. The other part of you is scared shitless to go to his mansion.

At 7 PM sharp, you hear tires roll in front of your place. By the time you lock your doors, Levi is waiting outside the passenger door for you. He kisses your cheek before letting you in the car, scanning your body.

You study the drive from your place to his - about 20 minutes. Levi lives in a rich, residential area with plenty of land to spare.

Walking into his home, it's spotless. Like, actually spotless. No dust anywhere, nothing is out of place, even the remotes on his coffee table.

"I bought some coffee ice cream and I have Netflix set up for that show already - Grey's what?"

"Grey's Anatomy. You're watching it with me?"

"I was serious when I asked you if you wanted to do that here. Can we start from the 1st episode?" Levi grabbed 2 spoons and the pint of ice cream.

"Sure." You walk over to the couch, which looks like a cloud, and sink your body into it. So this is what it's like to have money.

Levi pressed play, opening the pint. He plunged his spoon into the ice cream as neatly as he could, bringing it to your lips.

You open your mouth slowly, letting him insert the spoon into your mouth. You stare at his eyes as you lick the spoon, getting lost in the clouds that live in his eyes. He pulled the spoon out of your mouth, taking a scoop for himself.

Levi had coffee ice cream residue on his bottom lip, which he quickly licked away. You stared at his chiseled jawline as he watched the show, his eyes moving back and forth with the scenes.

Eventually Levi put the ice cream away, knowing we would eat it again later. As he sat down next to you again, you couldn't help but notice a bulge in his pants.

We meet again.

Levi put his arm around the back of the couch, leaning back so his chest was stretched out. You could see his collarbone peeking out of his shirt, along with his sculpted muscles.

"You're not even watching, brat." Levi interrupted your daydream.

"I'm watching something else." You turn your body toward him. "It's much more interesting."

"What do you mean? I think it's ok so far -" Levi directs his attention back on the tv, getting lost in the plot.

You took advantage of this moment and unzipped your hoodie a bit, exposing your cleavage. He didn't seem to notice, but he will soon.

You slide into him, making sure he can feel your body against his. He looks down at you through his jet black locks, seemingly by surprise.

"What-"

"Shhhh." You press your finger to his lips, pulling your leg over his lap so you're straddling him. "You can't talk until I'm done. I mean it. Not a word." When did you suddenly get bold?

Levi's erection was more prominent now, pulsing against your thigh. You trail kisses down his face, neck, chest, and eventually you snake down to your knees, in front of his belt buckle.

You look up at Levi, who's mouth is open like he wants to say something.

"Remember the rules, Mr. Ackerman." You wiggle your finger, unbuckling his belt. "Not a word until I'm done."

His belt slid off with ease, as you pulled his slacks down to his ankles. His dick print through his boxer briefs startled you, but you're not gonna stop now. You spread his legs, pushing yourself in between them.

You drag your fingertips down his stomach to his pelvic region, tracing the 'V' line gently. You glanced to look at Levi, who's eyes were dead set on you.

His underwear came off, and his dick slapped his abs. Your eyes grew wide from his size, knowing you might have bit off more than you can chew.

You take one hand and start pumping his dick slowly, brushing your thumb over the tip. Pre-cum leaked from the slit, motivating you to pump harder.

You take some of the pre-cum from your finger and slid it into your mouth with a 'pop' sound. Levi groans, letting his head fall back.

You bring your lips to his tip, sucking it gently while pumping his shaft. You could not take all of him in yet, but you will. Your other hand starts massaging his balls, which hitched his breath. Your tongue caressed every vein in his dick, paying special attention to the tip.

Levi finally put one of his hands in your hair, directing you on his dick. You took more and more of him in, eventually hitting your gang reflex, but you didn't care. The look on Levi's face is worth it. He whimpers as your tongue cascades along his length, the sounds alone causing him to almost overstimulate.

Levi moaned your name before you felt his dick start pulsating in your mouth and his hand pulled your hair roughly. "Where do you want me to cum?" Levi said with short breaths.

"In my mouth."

It was less of a mess that way.

That must have sent Levi over the edge. He unleashed his load in your mouth, holding your hair tightly.

You snake your body up to his face and smile, swallowing his load.

"Fuck." Levi caught his breath, kissing your lips gently. "My turn." Levi pulled you onto the couch, laying you down horizontally. "But you can be as loud as you want."

Levi slid your leggings off, revealing your hot pink thong. He played with the straps before sliding them down your legs, kissing your thighs as he passed by.

Your core was drenched at this point from sucking his dick alone, and seeing him at your pussy sent you to another planet.

He slid two fingers in without warning, pulled them out, and sucked them while keeping his eyes on yours. "What a good girl. So wet for me." Levi started pumping his fingers, curling at your clit.

"Levi.." You moan his name, curling your toes. Levi presses his hand on your stomach, sitting his face in-between your thighs. His lips touched your pussy, sending electricity up and down your body.

The entire time, his eyes are on you. Watching every face you make, listening to every moan. Levi ate pussy like it was his last meal. His tongue and fingers invaded you and made it their home instead. Your walls started to pulsate as his tongue went in and out of you, devouring every last drop.

"So beautiful." Levi mumbled against you, curling his fingers one last time before the world went away around you. The feeling is euphoric. A man hasn't made you feel like this, ever. You've pleasured yourself enough to give yourself an orgasm, but this is different.

"Levi." You moan loudly, gripping his hair, riding out your high. You could not focus on one thing - there were no thoughts in your head. Levi ate you through your high until your legs were shaking uncontrollably.

Making his way to your lips, Levi kissed you gently, the sheen of your arousal all over his mouth.

"I wish I could savor this taste forever." He groaned, putting his hand behind your neck and pressing you into him gently.

His lips moved with purpose, making sure every inch is taken care of. Your lips are plump from all the arousal, your heart feels like its beating out of your chest.

"Do you still want to watch Grey's Anatomy?"

[honkceasar]

Dude I forgot just how insane episode 86 of riptide makes me man.

Okay first of all the captain drake moments in this episode are so fucking funny dude, i love the jazz pirates they’re so silly.

Second of all I need infinitely more people to talk about Jay and Gills friendship because they are so sweet and care about each other so so much dude. The way that, despite not knowing what to say to him, Jay manages to get Gillion to let his guard down emotionally for one of the first times like,,,,ever in the campaign. He trusts her and knows she’s sensible so when she begs him to take care of himself, he has to consider it. Maybe not because he understands why he shouldn’t let someone murder him repeatedly, but because it’s Jay who told him and shes always right. And then they have that big hug that neither of them want to let go from and Gill actually lets himself cry for a moment before he gets too embarrassed. They are the friends ever dude I’m so normal about it

And then the incredibly silly moment of Chip trying to teach Gillion sarcasm and him actually playing along with it turning to disaster cause of the Edyn memory. This moment was so striking to me because despite it obviously being a parallel to ep 15, the character growth REALLY shined through and kept it from feeling like a rehash of the same argument. Yes Gillion is mad because the truth was kept from him, but this time he kind of understands why, and I think that’s almost worse to him. That with the combination of his fear for Edyn’s safety and it suddenly feels like an entirely different emotion being portrayed. He’s angry, yes, but he’s far more hurt and afraid than just mad.

Then there’s Chip’s growth. Even the nature of his lie shows growth in a weird way. He didn’t keep the truth from Gill for the sake of his own entertainment, he did it because on top of directly being told not to tell him, his friend was already hurting so much and he wasn’t sure that he could take more. He didn’t want Gillion to completely fall apart and possibly get himself or others hurt. And then he stays up all night and builds that shitty arena. He’s tired and he’s pissed at himself and he doesn’t want to fight his friend, but he builds this arena because the last time it obviously meant something to Gillion. He’s not quite sure why a duel is what led to being forgiven the last time but he knows that’s just how Gill is, so he’s willing to let it happen if it means he doesn’t lose his trust and friendship.

Gill admitting that he understood why Chip, Edyn, and Jay didn’t tell him. Chip admitting he was wrong and meaning it. Chip telling that story from Loffinlot and saying that the impulsivity that often gets Gill in trouble is also what made Chip feel well-liked in others eyes for the first time ever. That he felt like a hero. And then they fight, not out of anger, just cause Gillion really likes fighting and Chip will do anything to make him happy at this point. And they have a good time!! They laugh, tease each other, (and do drugs together???) Gillion tries to use sarcasm, and Chip uses his magic for the first time, and then they both are instantly taken out by Jay.

It’s all just so good I love it so so much I could talk about this episode forever and ever man.

[hartwinorlose]

this is going to be an extremely negative review about furiosa

if you liked it, i am so happy that you got something from it, but i nearly cried tears of anger and frustration. i know that's a bit of an overreaction but mad max: fury road got me back into writing fanfiction, it got me into action movies, and it made me more interested in cinema as a medium

all that to say

i not only disliked this movie, i actively hated it, and i think it brings the franchise down. i'm going to indiscriminately get into spoilers but, like... please save yourself the money and don't watch this movie

first off, i was not jazzed for anya taylor joy when i first found out about the casting and yeah. she didn't sell me on furiosa. she doesn't look like her, sound like her, or bring anything to the role at all. this was severe miscasting, and i hate to think it was just because she's hollywood's hot commodity at the moment, but i can't think of another reason. (on a separate note, chris hemsworth was the one bright spot in this movie imo - he was actually really good)

the editing and cinematography had some good moments but was overall off-putting. instead of being spellbound by the whole movie like i was with fury road, i marked a few shots that were stellar

i HATED the plot. i cannot FATHOM why you would center this movie around some random guy who actually makes immortan joe look like a hero??? after watching this, i actually cannot understand why furiosa stole the wives from him. he respected her opinions, saved her from the guy she centered her whole life around hating, and just in general did not do anything to convince me that furiosa would hate him. i fucking hate this. why would you do this, george miller

i don't like jack. i don't know him. i don't buy that furiosa would tell him where the green place is because SHE DOESN'T KNOW HIM EITHER. WHY ARE ALL THESE RANDOM GUYS INFATUATED WITH FURIOSA. STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT

like seriously, rictus, immortan joe, jack, fucking chris hemsworth's character whose name i am too upset to remember - they all just take one look at furiosa and go ride-or-die for her and i DON'T UNDERSTAND

we don't see her with the wives. we don't see furiosa with the wives. i don't understand why she was so loyal to them. i wanted to see her build a relationship with them, goddammit, that is the part of furiosa's backstory i CARED ABOUT

the fact that she used the fucking peach pit on this NOBODY of a man and didn't save it to rebuild the green place. she planted it in the citadel, a place she ostensibly hated and didn't realize she would be returning to. she used the peach pit her mother gave her in the home of who we're supposed to be her biggest enemy to get revenge on a dude who doesn't fucking matter in the scheme of her life. look how they massacred my girl. furiosa, sweetie, i'm so, so sorry everything in this movie centered around a goddamn MAN

i mean, they basically fridged her mother. this is every "dead wife as motivation for revenge story," it's just a mom this time. what the fuck, that's so fucking shallow. you really couldn't come up with anything better. no one pitched ANYTHING better??? bullshit

[outeremissary]

🌈🌍🐉 for Carmen and Ismene?

Oh man. Big night for women with issues!!!! I went through a full spectrum of emotions answering these, thank you

[prompt]

🌈 - Do you associate any colors with them?

Oh for sure. On both counts, haha. I feel like this is a thing for most of my OCs- at least, it’s a major point of trying to like. Visualize a design for them when drawing. At any rate.

Carmen has always been strongly associated with red to me. It’s a very vibrant, strong color, and it’s also a very heroic and regal one. Maybe it’s just the kinds of books I read as a kid, but when I think of kings and knights, I think of crimson and scarlet and all that jazz. She’s proud, principled, and aspires to be a paragon of what she considers virtue. I’ve also always portrayed her with a rose as an emblem- a romantic symbol. Of course, the obvious flip side of that is that there’s a lot of negative association with red as well- fire and blood are the obvious ones here. She’s not fiery in the sense of raging passion or blistering anger per se, but more like… a destructive flame that would burn everything to ashes, maybe. Someone with burning ideals and zealotry so hot that it’s searing her too. Of course, the less fanciful aspect of the red is that it’s a color that was also associated with the chivalric order she was a part of in tabletop (also an anchor point of the rose). Carmen’s kind of a funny character for color though. She’s been around in some form or other for ten years or more at this point, and she’s always had the red association. It’s something that’s kind of transformed over time.

Ismene is an easy purple. And one day I swear to fucking god I will manage to color some of my art of her. Although I guess it wouldn’t be posted here so uhh maybe it doesn’t matter. Anyway. Purple. Regal and mystical. That’s the kind of vibe that I always want her to give off as a first impression, so purple is an obvious choice. I think there’s also something to purple being a kind of cool, somber color- she’s become a more mischievous character than originally planned, but I think it’s right for her to have a certain self-serious gravitas. This is a bit of an open and shut one I don’t have much more to say ^^;;

🌍 - What are this oc’s religious views?

Oh good god.

Carmen’s religious views are Very Different in Wrath from her original tabletop iteration (where her schtick is generally kind of inverted from part of Wrath), so I’m going to preface this by saying I’m answering for the Wrath iteration of the character. Carmen is a dogmatic atheist. You know the goofy edgelord atheist dialogue in this game? Honestly totally on point for her. She doesn’t believe that people should rely on the gods, and she believes that gods are ultimately all self-serving and tend to use mortals as proxies for their conflicts and the most extreme expressions of existence. The affairs of mortals should belong entirely to mortals. She’s not a person who sees the good gods as fundamentally better than the evil. In the end, they’re still imposing the same manipulative systems on their followers. They still inspire violent, irrational conflict. And they don’t “inspire” their followers. They breed helplessness. They make people reliant, cause them to wait and pray for salvation instead of searching for it themselves. The gods are cowards and parasites. And one day, it would be nice to see them torn down from their thrones.

I had to look up/double check FR lore for this one, which was half the time spent on this whole thing if I’m being real with you. Anyway. Ismene’s upbringing obviously meant a lot of exposure to gods of knowledge, and she tends to regard these deities with a reasonable level of respect. Knowledge, to her, is the highest power; those who reign over it are the highest Powers. She identified particularly strongly with Savras, Alaundo’s patron, from a precocious age- one of a number of ways she has taken aspects of the life of the one true prophet for herself. This seemed like a bit of childish fancy when she was young, but the release of Savras during the Time of Troubles gave it more gravity- another uncanny bit of foresight from the girl. For her, it seemed a sign in and of itself- thought not a person of deep devotion, she quietly claimed the returned god as her patron, developing a personal belief that her prophetic abilities had been an omen of his return and deepening her sense that she was personally connected to Alaundo. In the years between the Time of Troubles and the revelation of her Bhaalspawn heritage Ismene developed a conviction that she had a destiny to take up Alaundo’s mantle as a true prophet of Savras in the new age. Her personal dedication to the god is partially responsible for her aversion to outright lying- to speak untruth is anathema to the All-Seeing, though she never quite internalized his dedication to wholly avoiding misdirection and deceit. The revelation of her divine blood shook her faith deeply- in some form or other, her abilities originate in truth from Bhaal. Of course, with pride and precocious self-importance as the origins of her devotion to the Lord of Divination, she’s certainly able to adapt to the idea of being a demigod given time. I don’t want to say more when I have yet to y’know. Finish the original Bhaalspawn Saga. But I certainly have an idea of the trajectory of a hubristic young wizard who gets to live with the smug satisfaction that she can outfox a god.

🐉 - Very serious question… are they more like a dragon, or a unicorn?

Carmen is an easy dragon. It’s the fire thing. And the knight thing. What’s the opposite of a noble knight? That’s right, a dragon. And also being very cool despite objectively killing a lot of people, which isn’t so awesome.

Ismene is like a unicorn because she’s just so goddamn special. I wrote that sentence as filler for later but you know what? I’m right. What else needs to be said, really. And also it’s the princess-y thing. The maiden-y thing. The magic-y thing. Like. Y’know.