#mobile tumblr fucking sucks i will never use it

[autisticiyami]

ok dude whatever. deltarune beam

[vulture-bone]

my tumblr’s getting to the point where its almost unusable. it lags so bad because of the huge autoplaying ads, i haven’t updated it since before the ios ban, and videos are only working about 65% of the time. if it forces me to update i straight up wont even use mobile anymore

[many-but-one]

So, our system spent a looooong fucking time trying to reblog a post by someone that goes by @system-junk-spam but after typing it out it became unrebloggable, and then upon restarting the app we found that either they spontaneously deleted their blog or they somehow blocked us while we were typing something up, despite us having never interacted with them before. That, or tumblr mobile just straight up sucks. Highly probable.

Anyway, we worked really hard on the post and still want to share our thoughts, so we’re gonna put them here. We may get eaten alive for this take, but we’ve learned to not care what others think of us. We are allowed to believe things differently than our followers do and that’s okay. Hate will not be tolerated on this post. If I see it, you are blocked.

This is our theories on how endogenic plurality can possibly exist. We’ve talked about this before but not in great detail. We are literally just gonna copy-paste our response because oh my god it took so long to type out and then transfer to our notes app because the tumblr app was messing up. To TLDR the OP’s post, they were asking for genuine examples of endogenic plurality that wasn’t just someone actually having a CDD and thinking they are endo.

—

So, for starters, I used to be anti-endo. Kind of a dick about it to be honest, but not overly hateful towards endos. I have a post explaining that situation, where I also came forward with explaining that when I was a teen I thought I was an endo because I didn't have trauma—except I did, I just didn't know it yet. I also used to do roleplay—though not as a system, for the record. I just had characters I made that I later realized were heavily based on real alters in my brain and it was that alter's way of expressing themselves before they could be known by the host part at the time. So to say I understand where you are coming from, I understand where you are coming from. I have been that person. I went hard anti-endo at first, but slowly as I've begun healing and deciding "I don't really care what people do in their lives and it's not up to me to police that" I have become what I consider "syscourse neutral" but "fine with endos, I just don't interact with the community much because I'm not endo." Mainly with the feeling of "live and let live" and "they're people deserving of respect too" driving that stance.

I start with all of that preamble because at the end of the day, whether endos "really exist" or not just…doesn't matter. They're not actually taking our resources, they're not seeking out DID specialists because most of them know they don't have DID, and the whole narrative of them "making a mockery of the disorder" is pandering to fake claimers, who are the ones who point and laugh at the disorder whether you are endo or not. Endos are not the enemies of DID systems here, fake claimers are. And whether endos exist or not, fake claimers will still fake claim people with DID no matter what.

If you make this post with the concern that people who say they are endo may actually have a CDD and that can be damaging to their healing long term (it was for me personally) or they may take longer to realize they have a CDD (happened to me), the thing is, they will eventually discover that they have a CDD if that's what they really have. You have all of these examples of people realizing they actually had a CDD because those people eventually realized that's what they had. No matter what, at some point in someone's life, if they have a CDD and the right support, they will eventually realize they have a CDD—even if they initially think they are endogenic.

To go on a personal tangent, it was actually a very good thing that I thought I was endo for so long and got completely alienated from the entire CDD community because if I had discovered I had a CDD at the time, that could have had catastrophic consequences to my safety. When I finally started questioning the system thing again my first year of college, I not only nearly ended my life multiple times (other parts attempting), but I also ended up returning to my abusers and getting hurt again (callback programming, l'm a RAMCOA system). If I had discovered that as a teen? It could have been much worse than it was when I was an adult. I could have been retrafficked if I went back, rather than just reprogrammed and sent on my way, because I was still young enough to be “good product” as a teen, but as an adult they weren’t interested in my “service” anymore, they were more interested in making sure I remained programmed so I wouldn’t report them and they wouldn’t get in trouble. (Joke’s on them, I’m reporting them to the FBI. Suckers.)

My system finally allowed itself to be discovered in my final year of college because I was a mere month away from moving out with my then-fiancée at the time, who we believed could keep us safe should we display harmful behaviors. And we were right, even if she did end up being an abusive POS later. However, I still found out I was a CDD system and did get the help I needed. And even if the situation is not quite as dire for others, if someone who has a CDD believes they are endo, chances are, the system wants that for the time being. And who are we to try to disprove that endos exist just so people will be more accepting of themselves having a CDD? You said it yourself, that people knowing before they are ready can be damaging, so it's really not such a big deal whether or not endos are "real" if that's a way for a system to exist without having to hide while also still kind of "hiding" in a way.

HOWEVER! Now that I have become more open to the concept of endogenic plurality, I have put a lot of thought into "what if it really does exist? How would that happen??" Because gosh, how brains work is exceptionally cool, and if there is a way for endos to be real, that's pretty fucking neat.

So, for the record, I am not endo and I am not fully in their circles nor do I know much about origins whatsoever, so if anyone wants to chime in their thoughts or correct me on something, please do! For this next part, I'm calling endo alters/headmates "parts" just to keep the vocab streamlined and succinct.

Some common themes I notice in endos (for the most part):

They have basically no amnesia between parts

Some can create parts at-will, while others feel like they can't just create parts at will, but their parts just kind of exist

They usually can switch at-will or control switching to some degree or even completely

Some folks usually have some kind of trauma, but that's not saying much because all humans have trauma to some degree or another. Something I've noticed, though, is that this trauma is usually not in early childhood, but in later childhood, teen years, or adult years. (Please know this is not indicative of everyone, just what l've noticed in endos l've spoken to, don't come at me if your situation looks different please!)

All of these aspects come into play for my “theories” on how endogenic plurality can exist. For the record, my “theories” are more like…my own ponderings on the subject rather than something that should be taken as fact. Only endos can decide how they exist, not me.

So initially, my main theory with endos (which l've spoken about once, a while ago) is that it is "IFS on steroids."

IFS functions with the belief that all people have parts, and that to create cohesion in everyday life means finding ways to communicate between these parts and reach healing conclusions between them. Kinda like DID treatment except these parts don't have the "becoming autonomous and elaborating" part of DID. This is often seen in therapy related to addressing your "inner child" or "inner teen" but this can also apply to "the part of me that hates my dad" and "the part of me that wants him to love me." Remember, this is a singlet we are talking about, here! Singlets can also have conflicting and contradictory feelings about their family members. Having a "conversation" between these two parts might look like one of them stating all the reasons why it's better to cut him off because he always causes harm, while the other side may explain all the reasons why they want to keep him around. Weighing these "pros and cons" in this sort of scripted conversation between these two "parts" can help singlets come to an agreement between these two contradictory feelings and find a solution that is best for that singlet "as a whole."

However, what if someone who has parts of self like any singlet does finds a different way to converse with their parts? Or maybe not just converse, but imagine them? Consider that their "responsible self who is good at keeping on track" is the self that they kind of "dial into" at school or work, so that they stay on task—so then later, the part of themselves that prefers to goof off and have fun can have more time to do that. (These may be labeled as a “school/work self” and “home self” by singlets)

Maybe that responsible side of themselves feels like a guy whose name is probably like, Richard. And he's a boring, middle aged, office worker looking dude. And that fun and goofy version of themselves that would rather ignore homework feels like a teen named something funky like Rainbow. Well, the side of themselves that's responsible (Richard) is probably gonna get into a lot of arguments with the fun-loving side of themselves (Rainbow), which can look and feel like an internal debate or struggle of "well I can totally skip this assignment because I have a good grade and my show's season just dropped and I don't wanna fall behind while my friends are caught up" being answered with "um, no, if I don't stay on top of things, I'm gonna fall behind on my schoolwork, which is WAY more important than my show"

See how that can feel a bit like CDD but not actually be a CDD?

These endogenic IFS parts of self might even become slightly more autonomous (or seem slightly more autonomous) than a normal singlet's IFS parts over time, especially if having these internal conversations are a major coping skill during stressful times. These "stressful times" can literally just be "being a teenager" because holy shit being a teenager is stressful!! Does this mean every teen who is an endo in this sort of “IFS way” will grow out of it? No! If this is a positive coping mechanism that doesn't cause harm, they may still have these parts of self well into adulthood or even their whole life. Because guess what? Being an adult is also stressful as hell. It would make sense that these parts would follow them into adulthood.

They may even have traumas they have to address in therapy that these parts of self can help them address. This doesn't mean that trauma is held within a singular part to keep the others safe from the knowledge of said trauma like a CDD system, (even if that trauma is repressed—because even people who are traumatized as adults and non-systems can have repressed trauma) because most likely, all parts of self in this IFS situation are probably either totally aware (if it is not repressed) or totally unaware (if the trauma is repressed) and when it comes time to address said traumas, the parts (while maybe not quite as fully autonomous with completely separate experiences and memories like a CDD system) can still likely be quite elaborate and be very helpful when processing these traumas or negative experiences. Brains are cool! Brains are weird! They do weird stuff to cope with shit! I totally think it's plausible for someone's IFS parts to elaborate to some degree if it helps that person cope with life, even if they don't realize it's IFS or a singlet's version of plurality at all.

Does this mean they would technically be a singlet since they don't have a “genuinely” fragmented consciousness? Maybe?? Who are we to say, you know? If they feel like they are plural even if their consciousness is not fragmented in the same way a CDD system's would be, why not let them say they are plural? They are experiencing some kind of plurality, just completely differently than someone with a CDD-related fragmented consciousness would. Which is kinda neat, if you ask me.

I recently saw a tiktoker who explained they were misdiagnosed with DID, that they'd been re-evaluated by MULTIPLE CDD specialists and been told they do not have DID, but they have some kind of parts influenced by them being schizoaffective. They genuinely have parts of self that feel like they kind of "step in" to handle certain things, with names and appearances to boot, AND this person is very dissociative based on their scores on dissociative scales— which is why they were misdiagnosed by a trauma specialist (not a CDD specialist) in the first place. Their parts are coping skills based on their delusions. Does that make their parts any less real to that person? No, they still exist and they have for a long time, but they are not dissociative parts like in DID. They have some kind of parts that get them through daily life even though they do not have a dissociative disorder. How cool is that!!! They don't cause harm, so they're not something that has to be done away with or anything. This person can just BE schizoaffective with parts. And the therapists are cool with it. Go figure.

I haven’t even gotten to the part where someone with BPD can have schema modes that are kinda like parts. Not to mention that just because people with CPTSD and PTSD may not have fully autonomous ANPs and EPs like people with CDDs do doesn't mean that the person with BPD/CPTSD/PTSD may not try to “purposely” (or accidentally) semi-elaborate those parts by assigning names or identities to help them cope.

For example, if someone has an explosion of anger due to a trigger and that non-autonomous EP is responsible for it, they may associate that non-autonomous EP's anger with someone like, I dunno, Bakugo from MHA. (I know nothing about this anime I just know this is an angry guy don't come for me please lol) So every time this person gets triggered into an anger spiral, they may assign that behavior to a version of themselves that gets really angry like Bakugo, even though it's really just the ANP being influenced by the emotions of the non-autonomous EP. “Bakugo" may never “truly” be autonomous like an EP in a CDD system would be, but that person who has CPTSD or PTSD may feel like they "become Bakugo" every time they get triggered and angry because of that non-autonomous EP's influence. Eventually, the ANP may learn how to communicate with that non-autonomous EP Bakugo and learn coping strategies for “his” anger and process the traumas that caused that emotional response, which can actually help that person heal in the long run. I think non-CDD parts can totally be a helpful coping mechanism for trauma healing. Consider how much easier it is to be kind to someone else rather than yourself. A lot of trauma survivors are incredibly hard on themselves, but may do a 180 for their friends and uplift them when they are struggling with the same thing. If someone with C/PTSD finds it easier to communicate and encourage healing to “Bakugo” rather than themselves and it ends in them healing in the long run, I’d call that a net win.

Like sure, you can say "but they're not actually endo, they just have CPTSD" but like…if they don't have a fragmented consciousness but they feel like they "become Bakugo" every time that angry non-autonomous EP is triggered, wouldn't that kinda mean that they don't have CDD alters but still experience SOME form of plurality? They may have an extremely anxious non-autonomous EP that is like a different blorbo from their shows, or they might name a non-autonomous super depressed EP after Sadness from Inside Out. While they aren't experiencing CDD plurality, one cannot really argue that they aren't experiencing some kind of plurality, right?

And gosh, what about the folks who genuinely don't have serious enough trauma to have PTSD or CPTSD and aren't really needing the IFS parts to cope, but created their parts just because? Why not? Especially if they aren't trying to demedicalize DID a la Astrea's Web or purposely trying to throw vitriol into the community, what is the harm in it? I already mentioned that they really aren't making a mockery of the disorder, fake claimers are. So what’s the big deal, really?

Why can't we as traumagenic systems just let endos exist without concrete proof? From what l've gathered, there have been studies on non-traumagenic plurality (I believe @sysmedsaresexist has shared these studies before but I may be mistaken...sorry for the tag, SAS) so clearly scientists have noticed this is a thing that happens.

Aren't you, as a traumagenic system, fucking sick of fake claimers CONSTANTLY questioning your existence, your reality? Don't you think endos probably feel the same way towards us? Like yeah, we have a lot of scientific proof we exist, but fake claimers will straight up ignore that shit and say the scientists are wrong. Why are we doing literally the same shit? Like come on, put yourself in their shoes! Let them exist whether there's a bazillion studies on them or not! As long as they aren't trying to cause active harm to others or the community (most endos just wanna exist in peace without being constantly fake claimed and harassed, for the record—just like us traumagenic systems!), just let them be! Live and let live. We cannot dictate how they experience their life, whether it's real or not. (I personally think it is, it's just not the same as a CDD—our experiences with plurality are inherently different as a traumatized system of parts.)

I hope my very long ramble was of help to you and others?

Since opening up to the possibility of endos being real and not being so stressed about whether it is or not, l've just been a much happier person overall—not to mention have a much greater appreciation for how cool the brain is and what we as people do to cope with shit. Plurality as a whole is really fucking cool from a scientific perspective. I think being more open-minded and accepting in general will also just make you feel better as a person. We don't need to be asking all these questions, we can just let it be! It's way less stressful, tbh.

[carlyraejepsans]

briefly updated my tumblr app to see how the new version was looking (normally I'm on v20.3.0.01) and jesus christ. jesus fucking christ. what is with this ui. why is there so much empty space everywhere. why is every color eye-searing. I can't refresh my notifications before the barest movement of my finger along the x axis catapults me into the DMs page. why is there a shop in my notifications. why can't i go to the prev rb like before. why do i have to use the fucking kebab menu. that wasn't an issue. that was never a fucking issue. if you wanted the most recent post you just refreshed the page you daft cunts how do you do something so wilfully inconveniencing for no fucking reason or gain or compromise. there is ONE good thing that came out of 14 fucking major updates and that was putting all the blog specific settings in the mobile app. which you should've done from day fucking one.

suck my dick. I'm going back to the original

[hellaverseconfessions1369420]

Long confession ahead, apologies in advance.

Look, I don't get heated about shipping. I like what I like, and I look at things I like. If I don't like whatever someone is posting, I'll filter the tags, and if they aren't using the tags appropriately, I will block them. It's fairly easy for me to avoid ships I personally dislike most of the time. I do all of the things I'm supposed to, and yet I'm still having this problem.

There is one singular ship on God's green earth that kills all of my enjoyment for both of the characters involved, and it is radioapple. I have never felt such strong emotions about any other ship before in any of the fandoms I'm part of. It's fucking everywhere. I genuinely cannot use this website if I want to see Lucifer or Alastor fanart/fanfic, and I'm not moving sites.

But God. I'm so fucking sick and tired of seeing "this post contains filtered content: #radioapple." When S1 first came out, I counted 37 blocked posts in a row on top of #Alastor on one given day. I had to scroll through 37 blocked fucking posts before I found ONE that wasn't about fucking radioapple. And that isn't counting all the OTHER Alastor ships, because of course that's all anyone gives a shit about anymore.

I'm on mobile, so I can't use browser extensions to make Tumblr's filtering system actually do what I want it to (delete every radioapple post, forever). I also don't feel like buying a laptop for fucking Tumblr. I've been getting back into HH after falling out of it for a while for related reasons, and I forgot how much angrier and more unhappy I am coming out of #Alastor or (to a lesser extent) #Lucifer than when I went in. Which is super awesome considering they're my two faves.

I wish I was kidding when I say I have actually cried real tears more than once over this. I'm aroace, and I thought maybe for once I'd get to feel at least a little bit included and represented in fandom as a whole. I thought having a canon aroace character would be that for me, at least one tag I could semi-comfortably browse and feel like I'm actually part of shit and not a spectator for once, but obviously not. I don't even get to look at fanart of a character I enjoy without being constantly reminded of how different and alone I am, even when that character is different in exactly the same way as me. Even characters like Alastor that are written to be like me aren't written for me. Because why would anyone create anything for someone like me to enjoy when they could instead jam a little more sex and romance in there?

I once scrolled through #Alastor blocking all the radioapple posters for so long that I reached the bottom of the page. Tumblr would not show me any more posts and I had to reload it. I blocked 209 different blogs, and it barely made a dent. 209. I can't curate my way out of this. I genuinely think I just don't get to like those characters anymore, and it fucking sucks. I want my deer man back.

TL;DR: I cannot enjoy these characters I deeply relate to with how prevalent and fucking inescapable this one ship is, and I'm not sure how to fix it. Frankly I'm not sure it's fixable, but I would love it if this wasn't something else I just don't get to have like everyone else. Someone tell me what to do about this. I want to have fun too.

I understand why you would think that. I’m probably aroaceflux and I can see some alastor in me (aroacewise, not serial killer wise) and why you wouldn’t want to see the ships you don’t like. Unfortunately that’s how many fandoms work, they’ll just keep shipping.

to be honest, I don’t know what to say, but thanks for the confession and I hope things get better for you

[britcision]

Gonna try and sneakily post after dnd let’s see how fast I can yeet this up 👀 new chapter!!

(I was kinda considering pushing out the porn parody to push me over one million words on AO3, but I have to be in the mood to write good smut, whereas I’m damn near always in the mood for crack, so here we are

The porn parody has been started though, and the first chapter is edging its way to completion. I will be starting an entirely new taglist for the porn parody though, so do say in the comments here if you would like to be tagged in the first chapter of that!)

I got to use a little of my actual real life work knowledge for once in my life, instead of my unending stash of random knowledge 👀 it’s a bold new world and I bet you ANYTHING Bruce never documents his code

Eleven million backup plans for if marshmallows take over the world, but someone else sits to debug the batcomputer? Zip. Nothing. Fuck them if they can’t read Bruce they aren’t authorised to touch it

As may be rather obvious… We’re right up in the bats again this chapter, and Bruce is going to make some Inadvisable Decisions 😈

I’m sure this will have absolutely no consequences whatsoever! This chapter also came in a little short, since there’s not quiiiiite enough space left to squeeze in our next scene, Danny Attempts To Make Jason Kill Him In A Motorcycle Accident

This means we should not brick ANYONES’ tumblr! (Like that’ll happen, my poor mobile using fellows)

Note: there is a reason why I’m choosing when to use our various vigi’s human names while they’re masked, I didn’t miss one on the “edit” that is formatting this mess for Tumblr 😁

First Chapter and AO3 link:

Previous Chapter:

——————

One Fine Day In The Middle Of The Night

About twenty minutes after dropping Danny off at his dorm, Jason was suited up and ready to go.

Well, he’d stayed outside until he’d seen Danny shut the door behind him first. Jason had some fucking manners, though if pressed he couldn’t name who’d taught him them.

It was a habit older than the streets, watching to be sure his friends got to safety.

Danny’s dorm was about fifteen minutes from one of Jason’s better safe houses, as it happened. Jason had never been to a dorm, but from Danny’s stories?

A step below Teen Titans’ bunks, and those had sucked. Less privacy, smaller rooms, and more people? Who weren’t even part of the same team?

Maybe next semester Jason could offer to let Danny move in. He didn’t need need the safe house.

Red Hood could always buy the building. There were other apartments and while they weren’t luxurious, they beat half his other spots. The neighbourhood wasn’t bad either.

It’d be nice to pay Danny back a bit. Not have him closer. Just. Repay some of the debt by giving him a place to stay, rent free.

And maybe, just a little bit, the part of Jason that enjoyed the romanticism of his period novels kinda liked the idea. An estate for the king on your lands was a big deal back then.

A slightly more modern part of him thought being a landlord for his ruler would also be pretty funny. He figured Danny would enjoy that side too.

And it wasn’t like the guy could complain, since he’d literally given Jason back himself. Yeah, Jason was gonna pull that one out if Danny tried any familiar “oh I can’t accept this” on him.

Fixing his core was pretty damn god level on the favours spectrum. Jason could do whatever the hell he liked and Danny would just have to deal with it.

It cheered him up a little more, kept him in a good mood on the ride back to his safe house. It was more time where he couldn’t help Cass, but seriously?

Danny could change in a matter of seconds and be at her side not much slower. Walls, cars, goons, Jason had this feeling that none of it would slow Danny down.

And yeah, knowing that helped, but there was still a piece of him that only unknotted as he slid his helmet on and headed to the window.

“Hey, Black Bat. Busy?” He asked as the comms switched from earpiece to helmet display.

Of course he wore both. People kept trying to steal his damn helmet. That was also what the internal explosives were for.

The others all piped up when they heard him, Harper and Steph calling cheerful greetings around an ongoing conversation.

“Shit, Hood’s in, this mean I can go back to bed?” Bluebird teased. Spoiler cut her off immediately.

“Hell no, it can’t be a school night, Robin’s here! Great timing though Hood, we’re planning Red Robin’s eulogy and you have some experience there,” Spoiler chirped brightly, and Jason hesitated.

Sucked in a breath. He wasn’t gonna judge anyone else’s coping mechanisms until they got past “heads in a bag” levels.

Best to ignore it, since she wasn’t actually trying to set him off.

What the hell had Tim done since they’d left the manor?

Shaking his head, Jason settled into Red Hood and hopped onto the fire escape, scaling easily to the roof.

“Black Bat?” He repeated instead of answering, and half smiled when Spoiler groaned dramatically.

Black Bat answered in the considerate group pause.

“Not busy. Why?” She sounded amused, not even particularly tired, and Jason relaxed enough to slip all the way in.

“Thinking of going a little out of my way tonight. Wondered if you’d mind a tagalong?” Red Hood asked, hoping he sounded casual.

It wasn’t like he’d been planning to patrol the Alley anyway; his guys had already been told to handle it. He’d have to run around tomorrow night to keep the creepers scared, but he could have a couple off.

The tiny pause before her answer didn’t quite feel like judgement, but Jason muted before blowing out the sigh as she did. It wasn’t like the others needed to know he’d been stressing.

“Sure. Meet at library?” She’d had his tracker up. Hood nodded, turning and running for the edge of the roof.

“Sounds good.” And they’d probably wound Spoiler up enough, she’d start plotting vengeance for being ignored soon. “So what the hell did Little Red do?”

“Brought Too Fine to the Bat Cave,” Spoiler told him with relish, not noticeably put out by the delay.

Not necessarily a good sign, since she was also this enthusiastic while actively plotting against him.

Wait.

Too Fine was Tucker’s hacker name.

“But he doesn’t know about us,” Red Hood said with a frown, catching an outcropping and swinging on.

“Oh, now you tell me,” Tim groused while the others snickered, “what a shame you didn’t think to when it’d have actually been helpful!”

News to Hood that he was on, probably still in the cave.

“He knows now,” Nightwing chimed in brightly, probably also travelling from the slight strain in his voice.

Hood paused for a moment, letting that sink in before attempting the next jump.

“Is he on comm?” He asked warily, because if Tim brought Tucker to the bat cave, it was entirely possible that they were all outed.

And that Tucker might tell Danny he was Red Hood.

Shit, he still had to text Harley. Resolving to do it once he hit the library, he set back to running, throwing himself across another street.

Black Bat would probably take a little longer to get there.

“He’ll be back, he’s in the bathroom,” Tim explained with a heavy sigh, shaking his head. “It’s not all bad, he’s given me the full story on what happened in Amity Park. Witness account and all.”

“From a witness you let down to the bat cave~” Spoiler sang sweetly across the air.

Red Hood could hear Oracle rolling her eyes as she cut in.

“Tone it down, Batgirl. Bluebird, if you’re still thinking of heading in, could you swing past one last site on your way?” She said firmly, then lightening her tone for their current guest.

“Batgirl who? I’m Spoiler,” Spoiler grumbled, but didn’t push beyond that. None of them did when Oracle invoked the name she’d had before any of them masked up.

Bluebird snickered at her before answering the question, a hint of exertion suggesting she was on the move too.

“I’m not actually in a rush to go home, O, I got all dressed up so I might as well enjoy one last hurrah.”

Right, because she’d be going back to school probably when Danny did.

Harper had always been a damn good hero in Jason’s books, but she valued her retirement and none of them really wanted to ruin it. Unless, apparently, seven bats just had to stalk Jason’s new friends.

Hood would have apologized, but frankly if she’d said no, some of the others couldn’t have come to the gala to be a pain in his ass.

And then he couldn’t have had so much fun fucking with them.

Fine. One cool fruit basket for the Row household, and some rainbow cupcakes for Cullen. He needed practice on frosting roses anyway.

Although that also reminded him.

“Hey Bluebird, have the others filled you in on Phantom?” He asked, cutting off some more background chatter from Spoiler and Tim.

Nightwing and the girls had had hours by now.

“What, your new boyfriend?” Bluebird asked sweetly, and Hood rolled his eyes.

Probably hit the important shit then.

“Sent you a picture?” He asked instead, decidedly not entertaining that question.

Nightwing and Spoiler snickered. Hood flipped off their general directions, settling himself comfortably on the roof of the library to wait for Black Bat.

There was a short pause, the others now wondering what he was getting at. Good.

“In and out of suit,” Bluebird agreed, curiosity tinging with mild suspicion. Being out of retirement clearly wasn’t good for her.

Hood nodded, pulling out his phone and shooting Harley a quick text. It might be moot now, asking her not to mention Red Hood shit in front of Danny, but he might as well.

He still had to ask if Waylon knew. Might as well ask. And see if Tucker knew when he got back.

“I know you’re outta the game, but keep the light show to a minimum if you see him around, okay?” He asked, scanning quickly over the list Danny’d cleared for public discussion.

He didn’t know if Tucker would have mentioned it, but he might as well. Cause of death was good, but Jason personally would veto “and the effects it may have now”.

Because fuck Bruce and his need for everyone to show him their weaknesses.

Bluebird definitely sounded curious now, and possibly like she was punching someone.

“Oh? He not big on the electricity?” She wondered aloud, and Hood grimaced.

Because if they were both at Gotham U in engineering… there was actually a chance Harper and Danny would run into each other.

Danny was older, but Harper skipped a couple years and he had no idea what year Danny was in. Fuck, they might be in the same classes. He couldn’t believe he’d never thought of that.

“Not exactly. You mighta seen him around actually, he’s an engineer too. But he’s not a fan of the electricity flying around,” he explained, Nightwing making background noises that told Hood he hadn’t put the pieces together either.

Good. At least he wasn’t alone.

Bluebird made an interested hum, and probably a finishing blow considering the satisfaction when she spoke next.

“I thought he looked familiar. But then, he’s total Wayne-bait. Yeah, I can keep the good stuff under wraps if I see him around. Gonna guess he’s had some bad shocks in the line of work?”

Hood hesitated and in exactly the same instant Black Bat landed on the roof. Sam had given them all the warning about talking about a ghost’s death, so he could leave it at that.

But…

The way Danny had looked when he explained about Vlad. Yeah, he’d rather they took this seriously. He didn’t want any of his family to hurt Danny, even by accident.

“It’s how he died. He won’t spontaneously combust or anything, but it’s a bad memory.”

Silence reigned while the others absorbed that particular detail, Black Bat crossing to crouch on the roof beside him. Hood leaned over enough to bump their shoulders together.

He could almost feel concern radiating off her, which was an extra weird experience after literally feeling all of Danny’s emotions half the day.

Guess that was where Cass’s liminality was going. It made sense, kind of; despite her occasional trouble speaking, she was pretty much the clearest communicator in the family.

Having another back up way to make herself heard would only fit.

On a whim, he tried projecting comfort back to her. Black Bat didn’t seem to notice, though whether that meant more on her part or his was the question.

She leaned in and bumped him back, her expression unreadable between the full face mask and the shadows.

“Heard and understood, Hood,” Bluebird agreed after a minute, her tone unusually solemn. Hopefully Dickie would take it to heart too.

The odds of Danny running into Nightwing weren’t great if he stuck to Blüdhaven, but Dick was a nosy bastard and there was always one “emergency” or another.

Better than the odds of running into Bluebird, although Harper would almost definitely look him up at school.

Maybe Jason should warn him.

“Maybe you could build him a faraday suit,” Spoiler mused, and Red Hood snickered.

“Handy, but then we couldn’t contact him,” he reminded her and she groaned loudly.

“Hey, if we’re both techies he’ll probably have his own idea. I’ll look him up out of costume, it’s my turn to say hi,” Bluebird decided, and Hood shot Danny a quick text.

Just a heads up.

A picture of Harper, captioned “beware of sibling. May be looking you up in class”. Black Bat giggled beside him, head cocked to watch the screen.

Harper wasn’t technically one of the Waynes, but if Waylon counted she definitely had to, and it wasn’t like Bruce picked his family. Asshole.

A few minutes later he got a message back from Danny.

‘DannyP: !!!!! I know her! 😳😳🤯 She does the cool nanobots! Half our year is betting if she’s a rogue or a vigi 👀 inside info??’

Which was fair, since just knowing Jason wouldn’t be much of a hint either way.

“He knows you,” Black Bat reported to the others, Bluebird immediately bitching that she’d been ratted out.

Red Hood mostly ignored her, texting Danny back.

‘JTodd: Neither anymore. She was a vigi, but she’s retired and getting her degree. No idea if she’ll come back after.’

“Odds you’ll change sides and go rogue, Bluebird?” He asked into a pause, and very much enjoyed the momentary stumped silence. “Apparently there’s a hefty bet.”

Momentary, because everyone had an opinion on that and had to share it. Everyone except Bluebird herself, who seemed to be thinking it over.

“What’re the odds for rogue?” She asked thoughtfully, immediately defending herself as the group booed. “What! I have student loans!”

“You are my villain arc, Red Hood,” Spoiler declared as solemnly as she could through laughter.

“I’m my own villain arc thank you so much, go find your own,” he refuted with a half grin.

“Ask Phantom,” Black Bat advised Bluebird in the meantime, which was probably fair. They weren’t good at staying on topic.

She then gave Hood another gentle nudge, probably for the same reason. Flicked off her comm for a moment.

“Wanted to talk?” She asked, and yeah, they probably should get back to it.

He gave a shrug, hauling himself up and holding a hand back down to her. Definitely not feeling guilty.

They’d tell her before anything became relevant. It just.

Well.

They were a family of fucking detectives, who could never leave well enough alone, and Jason really didn’t want them questioning his humanity.

Just once, he’d like to know something about himself before anyone else did. To have time to understand and come to terms with what he was before Twenty Questions.

Cass was very good at not asking questions though. And Black Bat turned off her comm first. Tim was distracted, probably with Tucker coming back because he’d been quiet.

No better opportunity was likely to come up.

And really, she deserved the same courtesy. Knowing about herself before the others did.

Maybe she’d have some ideas on how to tell them.

Making up his mind, Hood tapped his comms and hauled Black Bat up with his other hand.

“Hey O, gonna be offline for a minute. Text if you need me or BB, we gotta be radio silent.” There were enough possible reasons for that, he didn’t bother giving one.

Just so long as they knew.

Usually he’d just turn the comm off and swear at her if she turned him back on if he wanted peace and quiet, but… well, it was nice to hear the background chatter.

Nicer when the big Bat himself wasn’t in the field to tell them to focus.

“I always need you, baby!” Nightwing called just before he clicked off, and Red Hood rolled his eyes under the helmet.

Dramatic bitch.

He looked back to Black Bat, wondering where would be the best place for this talk. She was watching him patiently, not moving.

It had been her patrol.

“Is there anywhere on your route we can talk privately?” He asked softly, a little surprised at himself. He’d been the one who wanted to wait.

But that just made it his call who he decided to tell what, and when. And Cass… he trusted Cass.

Besides, it wasn’t like he was liminal. It’d give them something to think until he was ready.

Black Bat regarded him for a moment longer, then nodded and made her way to the edge of the roof.

“Follow.”

**

The night was wearing on, but Bruce was darkly satisfied that they were finally making progress.

Constantine’s pacing (replacing his smoking; Bruce may not have bothered arguing in the cave, but even Constantine knew better than to light a cigarette in space) had finally slowed.

Something terrible had happened in Amity Park, but even the magician was grudgingly admitting it was probably over. Left permanent scars, but getting no worse.

Unless it was on a cosmic level and would be a slow seeping problem for millennia, but Alfred had Opinions about Bruce concerning himself with issues on that time scale.

There was only so much they could do in the moment.

Another survey of the city was required, and in person since even the League’s best couldn’t take clear pictures of Amity Park.

A fact which didn’t seem to have stopped the Amity Parkers from photographing and sharing pictures of each other, according to his children. Constantine hadn’t actually argued when Bruce compared it to background radiation, so it must be close enough.

He also hadn’t done more than grimace when Bruce asked if he wanted to undertake the survey personally. That was as good as an enthusiastic agreement.

First, though? First they needed to call a meeting of the Justice League, primarily the heroes located in North America.

They had been horribly uninformed of what was going on right under their noses, and if Constantine was right… Amity Park’s problems had begun to spread.

To Gotham.

To his children.

Constantine’s grumbling that it was the miasma of death that hung over the city drawing them in had not inspired confidence, and Bruce resolved to have Zatanna over at her soonest convenience to explain.

Helping Constantine put together a report on Amity Park itself had more than convinced Bruce not to ask Constantine, even if he could have done it today. The man was…

Well. Bruce wasn’t looking forward to having to run him through the JL’s classification system again. Maybe one of his children would want to go and handle the technical side.

All he had to do was finish preparing the presentation, call the League, and he could rest. It would likely take a day or two to put a full meeting together, but he could at least fill Clark and Diana in tonight.

He could sleep in between. Just for a little while.

Right after he showed Constantine how to configure the alerts from Amity Park to direct to the Justice League Dark, not the spam folder. They hadn’t sent one in years, but he was determined not to miss any changes.

That should have been the easiest part of this whole mess. It was just a simple form, with a basic test button to ensure it worked.

Nothing too complicated even for a man who’d decided “no reply needed” meant the same thing as “too dangerous for anyone but JL Dark”.

Fine. It was fine.

Bruce loved making training videos to highlight the most basic functions of a system and ensure that people actually understood what the various controls meant. Wonderful.

It meant that they could work in parallel for a while, Bruce on the presentation for the League, Constantine to fix his mistake. In a blissful silence, even.

It couldn’t last.

“It’s not working, Bats,” the magician declared, pushing back and away from his computer. Probably to pace again.

Bruce closed his eyes, breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth, and made his way across to frown at the monitor.

“Did you save your changes?” He growled, doing his best not to let the irritation show. It was getting harder every time.

Constantine rolled his eyes, definitely not helping, and pointed at the screen.

“See for yerself. Look, JLD Top Priority, like ya said. And then ya hit the top button to save, and the red button to test it, and nothing happens.”

He waited impatiently while Bruce clicked through the buttons, seeing it for himself.

Constantine wasn’t wrong. That was unexpected.

Brows furrowing under his cowl, Bruce checked the deleted requests. Three test messages from “Amity Park”.

“Hn.”

“Someone’s fucked ya system,” Constantine commented dryly, sounding unduly pleased that it wasn’t his fault.

Something other than his haphazard filing had apparently been causing some of their problems. Bruce… just didn’t have the time tonight.

He nodded over to his screen instead, pulling up his wrist computer to send a private message to Tim in the cave. How long could a tour take?

Tim could find what was going wrong long before he’d have the time.

“I’ve compiled most of the presentation on creatures of the Realms. Is there anything important I should add?” He asked gruffly and Constantine sighed dramatically and flounced over.

Bruce firmly ignored Steph’s voice in his ear.

Not because he didn’t agree, whatever a “woobie” was.

He just needed Constantine’s once over to confirm he had all the pertinent information, and then he could call Clark and Diana.

Head home.

Get to bed.

“Looks fine. I should check yer damn revenant some time soon too though.”

Bruce froze, finger just above the send button on that tech request to Tim.

His fucking what.

**

Black Bat led them easily across the city, along what was probably her normal patrol route. Taking her cue from Red Hood, she didn’t rush, but soon indicated that they turn off into a small alley between two warehouses.

Hell, not even a proper alley. A gap where the buildings hadn’t quite smushed together.

Red Hood recognized the area from Nightwing’s bitching; there’d been a bust here last week, and something had cloaked the whole block from surveillance.

These days, he was almost tempted to check what Danny knew about it. Ghosts fucked with technology in ways none of the bats would find.

Black Bat stopped them half way down the gap, feet braced against one wall and her back to the other, leaving her “sitting” about twenty feet off the ground.

Hood matched her a little further down, grumbling a little at the crush. Almost a foot taller, it wasn’t exactly a comfortable position for him, but he’d held worse.

They were stable, and damn near impossible to observe. This was as good as they’d get.

“So,” he began, and immediately realized he had no fucking clue what to say.

Black Bat’s flat, expressionless mask was not helpful.

Hood wished he could pull his helmet off, just to run his hands through his hair. But they were on patrol.

Black Bat just waited, silent and patient while he wrestled with himself. Finally he decided to just spit it out.

“Danny died, and came back,” he said in a rush, glancing over to her.

Black Bat nodded.

“Like you.”

“Like us,” Hood corrected, groaned, and switched off the voice modulator. Actually, fuck it, he had his domino on.

He pulled the helmet off, balancing it in his lap. He could shove it back on if it came time to go.

Black Bat was beside him now, almost close enough to touch. Close enough to lean in and bump their shoulders together.

“One main difference,” she noted thoughtfully, then tapped her chest, “no skin change.”

Which, yeah, Jason had been hoping to emphasize before any of the family got too far down the right track.

“Right,” he agreed, leaning back to stare blankly into the smog of Gotham above them.

Fuck. How do you even say it? How do you tell someone they’re not fully human anymore?

Someone like Cass, who’d been raised to believe she’d never been human, by force. Just a weapon.

Her hand was in his now, and he couldn’t be sure if he’d reached out or she had. He stared down at their laced fingers instead.

“You know how people get when they spend too long around the pit water,” he began slowly, trying a different path.

Cass had been raised around the League of Assassins. She knew.

And took the change of topic fully in stride, nodding and giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Erratic,” she mused softly, her face tilted to the wall across, “unpredictable, especially if they went in.”

No one was going to say Ra’s Al Ghul was an unstable mess of a man, but no one had to. Still, how controlled he was was impressive, especially after you saw what mere exposure to the fumes did to other people.

Red Hood nodded, sighing softly.

“Danny’s parents kept it in the fridge. He was… exposed long before he died,” he explained quietly.

If he was talking about himself, he’d say “contaminated”. Hell, it was the word Danny used when explaining it to the bats.

Jason just couldn’t use it about Danny. It just wasn’t right.

Black Bat stilled, almost enough to be mistaken for a statue instead of a living being. Was that her liminality too? Or just her training?

Red Hood couldn’t stand it either way, giving her hand a gentle tug.

“He told me… being around it too long can change a person, even if they never get dunked,” he said slowly, trailing off again.

“We got dunked,” Black Bat said quietly, her hand curling more tightly around his. There was no hint of emotion in her voice, and Jason hated it.

Pulled her closer, doing all he could to project comfort-sorry-concerned-love you. Wishing he’d asked Danny to teach him to do that first.

Neither of them had really considered he’d need it, since Danny was so good at reading him. But he needed her to know she wasn’t alone.

Her shoulders hunched suddenly, body tensed to spring until her head snapped round to focus on him.

He could… he could feel surprise from her. Maybe it was working.

He gave a graceless half shrug, grinding his shoulders against filthy bricks.

Tried to project yeah it’s weird for me too, but wasn’t sure how well it came across. Anything beyond pure feelings was a little tricky for him to push, though he could usually work out what Danny was saying.

“We got dunked,” he agreed quietly, resolving instead to wrap her in love-protect-safe-safe-safe, “and sometimes… that changes you even without a flashy transformation.”

It was an awful explanation and he knew it, could practically feel her eyes darting all over his face, his posture, reading things he probably wasn’t aware he was showing.

Then she relaxed all at once, settling in and leaning part of her weight on him as well as the wall. He braced automatically to take it. He wouldn’t let her fall.

“He called it being “liminal”,” he explained softly, working an arm around her shoulders above the wall to coax more of her weight onto him. “I don’t know what it means for you yet, BB. But nothing bad. He was sure it wouldn’t be bad.”

Black Bat made a soft humming sound, obediently shuffling so he could wrap his arm around her. Looking down at their still twined hands.

“Can feel you,” she said softly, hand rising to tap gently against the red bat on his chest. “Big brother.”

It startled a bark of laughter out of him, because… well, yeah. A good way to sum up everything he’d wanted to tell her without words.

Felt a quick rush of satisfaction from Black Bat, and tried to answer it with relief-agree-protect.

“Yeah, that’s the fuckin’ weirdest part,” he agreed dryly, almost felt the rush of her giggle more than he heard it. “Apparently some liminals get this… aura around them. Sharing what they feel. I didn’t know if you would…”

What? If she’d notice? If she’d be able to feel the same things?

Black Bat nodded, head tipping up to meet his gaze once again.

“Robin? Batman?” She asked, and Jason hesitated.

He couldn’t talk to either of them about it. Not yet. Bruce would fucking push, he always did, and wouldn’t stop until he tore the secrets out of him. Damian would just run to Bruce.

But it was a valid question. And they did sort of deserve to know just as much.

For now he took refuge in what he knew, shrugging it off.

“Danny thinks they’re liminal, but… not as far along as we are.”

Not as close to death. Not as close to not being human, although technically they were both legally non-sentient, so that was fun.

“D’you really think either of them have the emotional bandwidth to share?” He tried to joke, covering the moment.

Black Bat just stared at him until he fell silent. Then nodded.

“Should tell them. No rush,” she added almost before Jason could tense, leaning back in and resting her head on his shoulder, “have been for a while, yes?”

Jason paused a moment longer, shook his head, and snickered.

“Cannot believe I ever doubted you’d be able to do the whole “emotional telepathy” thing,” he grumbled good naturedly, and Black Bat glowed with gentle amused.

“Better than you,” she told him archly, sounding for a moment like Steph when she was teasing Tim. Jason gave her a squeeze.

“Don’t I know it. But yeah, it’s not a new thing, and won’t mean anything to anyone unless one of us dies again.” Which he wasn’t going to think about.

Shit, someone said Robin was out tonight.

Nope. Not thinking about it. Robin had been patrolling for years, and as much as he whined about his solo patrol route, he never deviated.

Not after Oracle had highlighted his route on his wrist computer for him and proved she could see every footstep. She wouldn’t necessarily tell Bruce, but she’d always know.

Black Bat nodded, resting against him for a moment longer before sitting up again.

“You want to wait.” It wasn’t a question, but he felt compelled to answer.

Picked up his helmet, turning it over slowly in his hands. But of course she’d understand. She always did.

“I want to know what this means to me before I have B poking and prying into every part of my life,” he said quietly, staring into the eye slits of the helmet.

Black Bat ruffled his hair.

“Can wait,” she agreed gently, switching her position to have a hand and foot on either wall. Ready to move on. “No rush.”

Red Hood pulled his helmet back on and matched her, the pair climbing quickly out of the crack between the warehouses. It almost wasn’t worth saying, but…

“You can tell the others if they ask. I just…”

“Don’t want questions,” Black Bat agreed lightly, flipping up onto the roof. “Can ask Danny when the time comes.”

“Yeah,” Red Hood agreed, crouching beside her. “Mind if I stick with you on patrol tonight?”

He sort of hoped she’d think it was unrelated, but another moment of stillness passed across her as she regarded him.

“Until we die again,” she repeated his own words, and Hood was pretty happy she couldn’t see his face anymore as he grimaced.

Not that it mattered, another shot of amused shooting between them, followed by a much softer appreciated.

At least she wasn’t judging him for being a mother hen.

“Understand.”

**

Tim and Tucker had made quick work of the interview, and Tim was pretty much running out of questions when the batcomputer pinged with an incoming message.

Tucker gave it a longing look and Tim chuckled softly, wheeling himself over.

“Hang on. Might be one of the others out on patrol,” he explained, right clicking to pull up the monitor that tracked the bats’ various dominos out and about.

Tucker stared up at it politely, diverting his attention from what Tim was doing on the other screen, no matter how curious he was. Showing trust and all that.

It was actually really cool too; he’d not really seen a map of Gotham, and having one superimposed with little glowing lights of the various heroes on patrol was really cool.

It wasn’t really zoomed in enough to tell if Bluebird was actually in a fight, but the little blue dot seemed to be the only one standing still, so Tucker assumed she was.

How cool would that be? Watching just normal human vigilantes fight and take down bad guys?

Although off the top of his head, he could already think of a couple of things to add to the monitoring program. They might already be there, he hadn’t clicked around, but like.

Vitals were all well and good, down in the corner next to each hero’s name and the colour of their dot, but just the heartbeats? That wouldn’t tell you enough.

Tucker preferred brainwaves, because then you could tell if they’d been hit with something or overshadowed.

Although maybe it was because he’d spent his time keeping track of a guy who pretty regularly did not have a heartbeat. And it also gave him more data points for some of his cooler side projects.

Understanding the different brainwave patterns an individual made in different situations was a key part of neural mapping, and adding it to the bat’s routine would get him a ton of data.

And then they could really play Mariokart.

He’d have to ask Tim if they tracked any of that later. Not all the bats wore helmets or cowls that would support the electrodes, apparently. Although if Danny could get his hands on a domino…

Tucker was snapped back to the here and now as Tim pushed back from the batcomputer, a wry grin on his lips.

“Actually, I think this might be something you could help with, Tucker. If you don’t mind a little work on your night off?” He teased, back to Tucker’s complaints about a night of fun and tech.

Like getting to play on the batcomputer did not absolutely count as fun and tech.

Tucker beamed, excitement welling up in him and cracking his knuckles. It’d be pretty cool to assist a human vigilante too. And on a tech problem!

Gotham was fucking great. If Tim really meant it about getting him an internship, Tucker might have to see about switching schools.

MIT was great, but it wasn’t Wayne Enterprises, personal meetings, or personal tech demonstrations with Tim Drake Wayne!

“Sure! What’s going on?” He asked, shuffling over to look at the other screens now that he had permission. Making sure it was obvious he hadn’t been looking.

Resisting temptation had been hard. He deserved credit.

Tim nodded to the screen, and that? That was a message from Batman. Bruce Wayne. Batman.

Tucker scanned the message, eyes widening even as Tim spoke.

“Wanna help debug the Watchtower?” Tim asked, and Tucker clutched at the back of his chair as his heart leapt, swooning just a little.

The Watchtower. The actual Watchtower. In space. Oh he was shoving that in Danny’s face for not telling him he was friends with the Bats!

There was only one real question left.

“Will Oracle be here?” He asked eagerly, looking around the rest of the screen.

A soft chuckle played from a speaker in the bottom corner, and Tucker jumped half a mile as a masked voice spoke.

“You boys have fun with this one, I’ll keep an eye on the city. If you finish early you could walk me through that server of yours?”

Oracle.

The Oracle.

They were real, they talked to him, they wanted to talk about his locked down servers! Tim lunged to catch him as Tucker collapsed, knees giving out under the swell of emotion.

All of his dreams were coming true, all at once.

He’d never been happier.

**

Danny was having a pretty quiet night in. That didn’t used to be unusual while he was in Gotham; having time to himself was still pretty much a novelty, and he wasn’t exactly a party boy.

Of course, it was a night in with some of his parents’ inventions and recently one or two of his own, so the actual “quiet” part was negotiable.

Quiet enough not to piss off his dorm mates, but luckily most of them were engineers too. They may not always know what he was doing, but they were usually interested.

Tonight, he was alone, most of the floor still being home for the holiday. That had been one of the things he’d looked forward to most about staying behind, but…

Well, after his noisy and action packed few days… he was lonely.

He wished he’d asked Jason to stay. Just because he’d said he was going to bed didn’t mean he had to do anything of the sort.

It was just that Jason had been… tense. He’d not even gotten off the bike when they arrived, just pulling over and chatting for a minute before heading out.

Like he wasn’t fully comfortable going into Danny’s place, which was kinda fair. Unlike Jason’s apartments, Danny’s dorm was a communal space.

Even if most of his dorm mates weren’t home, there was still a chance one of them might turn up. And then Danny would have someone else bugging him about his “boyfriend”.

Nope.

Besides, he’d see Jason again at 11am (he had this horrible feeling Jason might be a morning person), so it wasn’t even all that long. He should probably just go to bed.

He should check his class schedule, actually. Work out what days he’d have free, work out when he and Jason could skip to the Zone for fight club.

Wait.

Would Jason be free.

What the hell did Jason do for a living? He’d have to ask at some point, Danny mused, logging in and taking a screenshot of his class schedule for the new year.

For now, it was probably best just to send Jason the picture so he’d know when Danny was free, and then Jason could work out a good time for them to go and it wouldn’t be Danny’s problem.

Excellent. Sheer genius.

Humming happily to himself, Danny pulled up Jason’s number and sent the picture of his schedule, with the caption:

‘Let me know when ur free for field trips 👊🏻💥👻’

Eyes closing for a moment, Danny let his awareness drift out across the city. It wasn’t something he’d done a lot; Gotham wasn’t his haunt and he didn’t want to step on any toes.

Usually he’d just expand his conscious aura if he was looking for someone, but knowing how much Jason didn’t like it… well, his passive aura covered most of the state, so reaching through the same city couldn’t be all that hard.

Right?

Frostbite could find anyone, anywhere in the Far Frozen with little more than a thought. And was convinced Danny would be able to do that with the entire Zone, some day.

Danny was a little less convinced. Past the background awareness that he was no longer in Amity Park that had taken months to fade, he’d never really paid attention to his passive aura.

It’d be too tempting to feel out the rogues, or at least react to the sudden surges of aggression and danger. But he hadn’t had anyone to protect before, and he knew Jason would feel better knowing Danny could.

That was kinda why Danny hadn’t mentioned how theoretical this particular ability was, although he had no doubt he’d recognize Cass’s energy if she came close to death.

Which meant he should totally recognize it while she was alive, well, and had more energy, right?

He had no idea where she was, which parts of Gotham fell on her patrol route, but that kinda helped. It meant he couldn’t trick himself by focusing on a particular area.

Surprising precisely no one though, he found Jason first. The other halfa almost glowed when Danny was focusing on his energy, a bubbling little ball of yellow and red.

He… was maybe with Cass? Danny’s brows furrowed, nose scrunching as he tried to focus without changing his aura.

He was definitely with one of the liminals. And that quiet little light, almost blue, felt sort of like Cass. When he forced himself not to be distracted by Jason’s brighter glow.

Eyes snapping open, Danny’s concentration broke and he frowned up at the ceiling.

Well, that explained why Jason was in a hurry to get going. He was no expert in Gotham herself yet and had no idea where the two of them were, but if he tried again he could probably work it out.

Did Jason still have a suit? Or did he call Cass in, find something he could do as a civilian to have her help?

Shrugging to himself, Danny dismissed the question and hauled himself up. Might as well get to bed; they’d be back together in the morning and he could always ask.

**

Tim was scrolling through the code for the alert messaging system itself while Tucker went through the sections that pertained to Amity Park specifically on his PDA when the other boy made a sudden, startled squeak.

Tim considered pretending he hadn’t heard, but there was a chance he’d found the answer. So he glanced over.

“Any luck?” He asked, noting Tucker’s sudden strained expression. Maybe the guy needed the bathroom actually. They’d been down here a while.

Tucker laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“So… uh… what exactly does the bug we’re looking for do?” He asked in a small voice, looking more embarrassed than Tim had ever seen.

Which… was not a proportionate response for that noise. And a question that they both probably should have thought of sooner.

He’d meant to mention it, since they’d have to explain it to the Amity Parkers at some point.

“So… remember how the Justice League never responded to an alert from Amity Park?” Tim asked not a little sheepishly himself.

Tucker nodded, not actually looking any less embarrassed himself either. That was definitely a great sign.

Tim sucked in a deep breath and forged ahead.

“So, it turns out there’s a bug in the Watchtower’s systems, where anything coming in from Amity Park gets marked as spam and funnelled straight into trash. We fixed the marking as spam thing, which I guess was user error, but it’s still-”

“All going to trash,” Tucker finished with a sigh, grimacing and shaking his head, “aaaaand I think I know why. But the timeline doesn’t make sense?”

That… that wasn’t even on the same continent as what Tim’d expected he’d say.

“The timeline?” He asked, brows furrowing, sliding over to peek at Tucker’s screen.

Tucker shook his head again, angling it so that Tim could see… a section of code that shuddered faintly in and out, almost disappearing entirely every few seconds.

That.

That was not a thing that should be happening.

Tim would have loved for it to be a simple screen glitch, but it was only that one small section of code. The lines above and below were fine, and Tucker could move the flickering chunk up and down.

“Yeah, this is your problem,” the Black man sighed, wiggling the section demonstratively, clearly aware of Tim’s shattered hopes.

Heartless man. Genius man.

“You’ve had ghosts in your back end. Probably wouldn’t even show up on an uncontaminated device. Which, by the way…” he trailed off, and Tim shook his head immediately.

“Not tonight. No changes to the batcomputer without Bruce’s say so,” Tim said firmly, since he’d already fucked up once. Might as well limit the damage.

Tucker shrugged and nodded back to the section of code.

“Okay. But this… this was definitely Technus. And that makes no sense? He’s a spirit of technology, we’ve fought him a bunch of times, but if he got into the Watchtower’s code he wouldn’t just… hide,” he tried to explain, adjusting his beret fussily.

It totally wasn’t adorable.

Tim did his best to keep up though, nodding along and thinking back over everything they’d been told about ghosts so far.

“You think we’d have noticed?” He asked, and Tucker snorted.

“He likes making giant robot bodies out of toasters, you’d definitely have noticed him on your space station,” he agreed dryly, then sighed.

Frowned down at the tablet again.

“I mean, Danny could make him do it and behave himself now, but if these changes were active during the whole Pariah Dark thing… I dunno, Technus should have been a way bigger problem. He’s not subtle.”

Tim frowned, thinking about what Tucker had said and then pausing.

“Danny could make him behave now?” He asked and Tucker pulled another face. Like he hadn’t meant to say that.

“Well, yeah, Danny’s miles out of Technus’ league now,” he tried to brush it off with a laugh, “the guy knows he’ll lose any fight so he’s really not a problem anymore. We have hackathons,” he added and Tim really wanted to know more about that.

There was just. Something off about Tucker’s answer. Not the content itself, just the way Tucker clearly wasn’t saying something.

That was a problem for future Tim though. Present Tim had a job to do.

“So can you fix what he did?” He asked the important question, and Tucker made another face.

“Dude… whoever or whatever made Technus do this, will probably notice if we fuck with it,” he said warily, and Tim shrugged.

“Whoever or whatever made Technus do it couldn’t do it themselves. How would they know?” He shot back, and Tucker chewed his lip.

Shook his head.

“Lemme text Danny. He’s the ghost expert, he’ll know how much we should worry about this,” he explained quickly, pulling out his phone and shooting off a short message.

Tim gave him his very best deadpan expression.

“How much we should worry about technology ghosts getting into space and fucking with Justice League HQ. I have the feeling the answer is “a lot”?” He offered sweetly, and Tucker snickered.

“Yeah, well, we’ll see. Might actually be alright, if this is all he touched. And, since you won’t let me juice the big computer, we’d have to scan the whole thing through my PDA. Every line of code,” he added, like Tim wasn’t already dreading it.

Tim sucked in a slow breath, weighing his options.

Touching the batcomputer? Ultimate no-no. But Tim’s personal laptop… it had access to the Watchtower’s systems, and was under Tim’s personal control.

And would let Tim go through the sensitive data himself, which the core code of the Watchtower was full of. The question was, did he trust Tucker not to install anything dangerous?

That question had been answered the second he asked Tucker to help him debug though. Clearly the guy could already put what he wanted, where he wanted, and with their current tech?

None of the bats would ever know. At least if Tim’s computer got the update, he’d have a chance at spotting ecto-infused code.

There were other computers they could use of course, old or unnetworked computers that Bruce would probably insist they start with.

Which wouldn’t be able to access the Watchtower’s servers, and couldn’t hold the whole thing to be able to run a useful check.

The answer really was kinda obvious.

Tim looked to Tucker, who’d been texting away while he thought things through.

“We can’t do the batcomputer, but is there anything you could do for my laptop tonight, or do we have to wait on Danny still?” He asked, deeply regretting that they’d gone to video games instead of the tech upgrade.

At the time he’d been planning on having a burner laptop done though, so it probably wouldn’t have been as useful.

Tucker shrugged cheerfully and slid his phone into his pocket, cracking his knuckles.

“Well, I can’t give you the full infusion to let you open Amity’s encrypted data, but I can write you a little something that should expose Technus’s code even without it,” he offered, and Tim brightened up.

“How long?” He asked eagerly, wondering if Tucker would let him watch. It’d be fair if he didn’t, Tuck had been cool about not looking when Tim played on the batcomputer, but…

Tucker smirked, flicking open a new screen on his PDA.

“How long will it take you to get the laptop down here?” He asked smugly.

Tim booked shit to the elevator.

**

Private Chat: DannyP & TooFine

2:15am

‘TooFine: Danny when tf did u have Technus hack the JL’

‘DannyP: ……. 👀 u cannot prove i did that 🚫🚫’

‘TooFine: I’m helping Tim debug the Watchtower’

‘TooFine: double fuck u for not telling me about Batman btw’

‘TooFine: someone sent all the Amity alerts to trash’

‘TooFine: if we keep talking about this I might accidentally send something to the group chat 🤨’

‘DannyP: FUCK FINE DONT TELL SAM 🏳️🏳️🏳️’

‘DannyP: after the pd thing’

‘DannyP: cw called’

‘DannyP: they hadnt been reading the messages anyway i just’

‘DannyP: shitty people track the jl y’know? and i didnt want em knowing about us’

‘DannyP: let em all think its a joke and then no one else comes an tries to use our portal to harness the realms and blow up superman or whatever’

‘TooFine: dude u fucking told me to tell them what actually happened??’

‘TooFine: pretty sure anyone tracking the jl will work that out now’

‘DannyP is typing’

‘DannyP is typing’

‘DannyP is typing’

‘DannyP: ok so maybe i didnt think that through 😔😔😔’

‘TooFine: no shit. I’m fixing the code in case any new alerts come through but it’s not like they’ll bother to call’

‘DannyP: not like they need to, frighty’s got em covered 🗡️🗡️🎃’

‘TooFine: yeah yeah. I’ll set it to ping u too’

‘DannyP: ur the best tuck 🙇🏻‍♂️🙇🏻‍♂️🙇🏻‍♂️’

‘TooFine: better than u deserve’

**

Across the city, Red Hood and Black Bat had stopped for smoothies. Patrol was quiet, and word on the street was that Bluebird was mostly to blame.

Nobody wanted to know why she was back and taking no prisoners, so even the docks were almost deserted.

Then again, with Riddler and Waylon snapped back off the streets, Penguin lying low in fear of Harley, and Batwoman making Two Face’s life a personal hell?

Yeah, no wonder the smaller players were lying low.

Hood had pulled his phone out to check in on the Alley in case they’d be more useful there when he noticed a message from Tucker’s private chat app.

It was from Danny.

Danny had sent him his class schedule. Told Jason to let Danny know when he was free. Like class was the only thing that’d stop Danny from wanting to see him.

Jason was so lost in staring at his phone, utterly swamped in the implications, that he didn’t even notice Black Bat finish her smoothie and swap out her empty cup for his.

Danny wanted to see him again.

He’d have to work out a proper schedule of his own.

**

Bruce was having a Bad Day. An extended bad day, one that was fast approaching 48 hours long.

As if everything with Amity Park wasn’t already bad enough, both in the past and the present, now Constantine believed there was something wrong with Jason.

That his son wasn’t fully human anymore.

Now, Bruce’s best friends weren’t even a quarter human between them, and no matter what everyone seemed to think he was perfectly happy with meta humans.

So long as they kept themselves safe.

Preferably where they wouldn’t be mind controlled, kidnapped, or held hostage every few days. Frankly being a meta was probably stressful enough even in a normal city.

But he’d keep Gotham’s metas as safe as he could, just like Duke.

But Jason… Jason had been born human. Had lived as a human, died as a human, and Constantine seemed so sure he’d come back as something else.

“Revenant” the man had called him. An animated corpse that haunted the living, powered by rage.

Bruce might even have believed it two years ago, when Jason first returned. Jason had been so angry, intent on destroying Tim when the other was just a child.

When Jason was little more than a child.

But… that wasn’t all he was. He was himself, truly Jason Todd in ways Bruce hadn’t wanted to believe. He’d fought his rage and won every day.

Most days.

And being around Amity Park, being around Daniel James Fenton, might be enough to push him back over. To drag Jason closer back to death.

Halfas could act as psychopomps, bringing lost souls safely to the other side.

Jason had only just become himself again. They had only just begun healing the rift between them.

Bruce couldn’t lose him again.

They had to keep him away from Amity Park. It was as simple as that really; something in Jason’s resurrection had gone wrong and they all knew it.

Even Jason himself wouldn’t argue with that. Something about his death clung to him, poisoned him with that violent green rage.

His children’s reports told him that Danny was claiming to help with the pit rage because he had also been exposed. But what if he was just helping the pit?

Even if he didn’t mean to, exposing Jason to that much power that closely tied to death couldn’t be good. Constantine hadn’t exactly said as much, but Bruce could read between the lines.

Death magic was contagious between those who’d been infected. Who’d died and come back.

That wasn’t fun to know. Not with how many of his children, his friends had all died before.

Even he himself had. He’d have to investigate Amity Park personally. Take the risk himself, to keep it from the others.

Tim and Duke could help, but they were both so busy with their own lives. He would have to wait and see.

His meeting with Clark and Diana hadn’t gone well either. They’d both been gratifyingly concerned with what he’d learned and had recognized the threat.

Clark had promised to keep an ear out for Jason, to listen in on his heartbeat and make sure he was okay. Bruce would have been grateful, if Clark hadn’t also told him that Jason’s heart was noticeably slow.

Easy to pick out, even if they hadn’t spent much time together.

Just how close was his boy to dying again?

Diana had advised caution. Wanted to speak to Danny herself, see the hero who had shouldered the burden of this small town. See if he had turned under the pressure.

Pressure that should never have been his. Pressure they should all have shared, protecting the child and the town together.

It would be his fault if Danny had broken. Had given in to whatever in the Infinite Realms had stolen a whole town away.

Bruce knew that with a leaden certainty, felt the weight of it settle in his chest. The same way he knew he was responsible for most of his rogues.

He could see the wisdom in letting Diana talk to the man first. She was wiser than most of the League, and a good judge of character. Even without her lasso, it was hard to lie to her.

But if what Constantine said was true, he didn’t want to tip their hand. Zatanna and Shazam had both agreed to attend tomorrow and give their own opinions.

They could afford to wait one night. Perhaps two, if Danny couldn’t be found tomorrow.

Just about the only thing Bruce wasn’t worried about was Danny running. If he had ill intentions, he wasn’t the sort to give in and disappear so easily.

He’d threatened Bruce to stay out of things between him and Jason. And certainly wasn’t afraid of a fight.

Bruce was also quite sure that he and Diana could take the boy if it came to it, even with the abilities Constantine ascribed to the realms. He would find a way.

But not tonight, he reminded himself firmly as he strode into the zeta tube. Tonight he would go home, update his children, and get some sleep.

Maybe waiting a day or two to speak to Danny directly would help. This concussion had passed frustrating and was beginning to affect his decision making.

Shaking his head to clear it, Bruce hit the button to send him home. Soon he could rest. At least for a little while.

**

A gentle buzzer went off in the cave and Tim yelped like he’d been stung, clutching at Tucker’s arm in an entirely unmanly way.

“SHIT he’s back hide the candy canes!”

Tucker stared at him wide eyed, but to his credit the other man didn’t hesitate to sweep the pile of different flavoured canes off the desk and into the front of his shirt.

“Where?!” He asked, and Tim hesitated for half an instant.

The zeta tube was down by the cars. Bruce would be up in less than a minute. Spinning Tucker by the shoulders, he shoved him towards the infirmary.

“Get in there! Don’t come out til I say!” He hissed, already hearing the zeta tube’s door whoosh open.

Tucker obediently scurried away, and thank fuck he was quick on the uptake enough to drop his voice below a whisper.

“What?! Tim, what?! Am I not supposed to fucking be here?!” He hissed, and Tim pulled the infirmary door almost shut before darting back to the table.

He’d cleared it with Bruce, had texted about giving their guests a tour, but since it turned out that Tucker hadn’t already been in the know… well, he wanted to prime Bruce with the good news first.

The tube only pinged once though, so Constantine hadn’t come back with him. That was probably good. Bruce would be less cranky.

Tim wasn’t exactly back in his seat by the time Bruce reached the batcomputer, but he was close enough to watch him note the second chair.

Tim didn’t let him ask.

“I have a first hand witness account of what happened in Amity Park.” That was the important thing, right? That they had answers.

Bruce stared at him for a long moment, eyes narrowed and the whiteouts narrowing with them. Tim stared him down, refusing to look away.

He’d fucked up just like, a tiny bit. But he’d gotten results. Better results than anyone else. So was it really a fuck up?

He watched Bruce’s eyes widen as he realized, and was a little surprised when the man’s shoulders slumped. He dropped gracelessly into the swivel chair, elbows propped on the table and his head cradled in his hands.

Tim was growing a little alarmed now, hurrying forward to Bruce’s side. Was he injured? Had something happened?

His hand was just reaching out to touch when Bruce sighed and sat back up.

“Tim. Who did you bring to tour the cave?” He asked in a tired, heavy voice, and Tim’s brows furrowed.

What? He’d said, hadn’t he?

“Tucker Foley?” He said cautiously, wondering if he should call Alfred. Maybe switch out Bruce and Tucker and get the big guy into the infirmary.

Bruce was very still. Tim forged ahead, hoping to get to the good news.

“He was a vigilante back in Amity Park, part of the support team. I have his statement going back to the beginning of the ghost attacks, and he’s already answered most of our questions.”

Leaning past Bruce, he hit a couple of keys and brought up the sound file of Tucker’s interview.

Bruce was still a little slow as he turned to look, but it seemed to hearten him. Which was when Tim realized.

“Wait. Who did you think I was bringing?” He asked, brows furrowing in confusion.

Bruce shot him a sidelong frown, pulling off his cowl.

“Not a stranger,” he growled, though his heart clearly wasn’t in it. He just sounded tired.

Tim carefully patted him on the shoulder, still thoroughly confused.

“What? But I said…” he paused, pulling out his phone and staring at the texts.

Nope. No he didn’t.

Oops.

Groaning, Tim let his head drop.

“Ah fuck, and I thought we were doing so well!” He sighed heavily and Bruce made a grunt that might have been a laugh. “Alfred’s going to be unbearable.”

That shut Bruce right up, as it should, and then Bruce sighed again. They were moving past it then. Probably for the best, since Alfred would lecture them both on the importance of communication later.

At least it wasn’t only Tim’s fault. The only person who wasn’t a stranger or a bat had been Harley, and he wasn’t actually sure if Harley had cave privileges.

Well. She did now. Since that was what Bruce must have thought he was asking.

Then Bruce straightened, eyes determined and steely.

“I have new information from Constantine. The risks of the Infinite Realms.” It definitely heartened him to talk about, skipping straight to the debrief part of the day.

Maybe they could just skip right over the Tim-fucked-up-and-brought-a-stranger-to-the-cave.

“I need you all to keep away from the Amity Parkers until I know more.”

Ah.

No then. Nope, not skipping over it, because Tucker was actively still fucking in the cave. It was for the best that they’d hidden him then.

Tim shook his head firmly, hoping that if he seemed certain that would help.

“That’s not gonna work, Bruce. I couldn’t have fixed our Watchtower problem without Tucker, and we can’t look at any of the Amity Park data without an Amity Park device.” It was the theory they’d been running with, but they’d had it confirmed now.

Never mind that Tucker had already downloaded most of what was publicly available for them. Bruce would always want a primary source anyway.

Tim pretended it didn’t affect him when Bruce’s head jerked, eyes narrowed as he scowled at Tim.

“You let him into the code for the Watchtower?!” He exclaimed in a hiss. Which was interesting, since Tim had kinda figured the bat cave thing would be more personal.

Then again, the Watchtower could compromise more than that.

“Bruce, read the report on Tucker. We literally couldn’t stop him if he wanted to hack in, because his tech runs on levels that slide right past ours. Tech he’s already sharing,” he added sharply, reaching behind him without looking to hook his laptop forwards.

Bruce, mouth already open to argue, quieted at once. Yeah, new toys always helped. Tim nodded to the batcomputer.

“The update’s ready to go live, but I waited because you need to see this. Open the third window,” he nodded over, pulling up the corresponding section of code on the laptop.

Bruce’s expression pinched but he did as requested, clearly not willing to put another step between himself and the answer. A quick glance up to confirm, and Tim nodded to himself.

Fuck, he needed a laser pointer.

“So it all looks good up there, right?” He pushed and Bruce frowned, but nodded, eyes scanning quickly across the screen.

“Is this your update?” He asked but Tim was already shaking his head, pushing his own laptop towards the man.

Bruce’s eyes widened at the glitching sections of code. Tim nodded, satisfied he’d gotten Tim’s point.

“Tucker Foley wrote me a program so that I could access this ghost code. In half an hour. From scratch,” he added for emphasis, and yeah, he could already hear the lecture about “compromised tech”.

He tried to shut that one off too, pointing up at the screens.

“That? That’s apparently the work of a ghost. One called Technus, who likes to possess technology, and now Tucker and I are going through every line of the Watchtower’s code looking for changes.”

Bruce’s lips thinned to a tense line and he gave a short, harsh nod. He very obviously didn’t like it, but the presence of a bigger threat did wonders for calming him down.

Tim patted his laptop.

“We’re waiting on you to upgrade the batcomputer, but we’re gonna need to check every program on that too. Everything, Bruce. These ghosts could have been rewriting everything. And we’d never know if I hadn’t asked Tuck to help me with the Watchtower.”

Honestly, Tim was just hoping none of their rogues had made any ghostly connections. The implications made his head spin, but he stubbornly kept himself on track.

They needed Tucker’s help. Never mind that the ghosts themselves were reportedly allergic to subtlety and would always go big over going home; that was a tendency, not a guarantee.

Hell, if Tim had a say, he’d get Tucker’s upgrades for the ghost code, improved firewalls, and Danny’s ectoplasm into all his own gear by tomorrow.

He wasn’t going to, Bruce’s paranoia being what it was, but he was already uploading Tucker’s program to his suit’s wrist computer. It wasn’t like there’d be any hidden malware.

Tim had watched over his shoulder as Tucker wrote it, direct on the PDA. And watching him work had been… it was just…

He so rarely got to talk to anyone that was actually on his level. Rarer still that they weren’t a direct member of the family.

And Tucker, for all he currently had a tech advantage? He’d invented that advantage himself. All on his own, he was incredible. Maybe even better with some aspects of software than Tim himself.

The things they could do together… even the internship was pretty much a formality at this point. Just get Tuck through college and see if he’d accept a job at WE.

Hell, if he wanted to found his own company Tim would invest. That kind of brilliance deserved everything it needed to grow.

He had to wrench himself back to the present moment, the “introduce new genius to Batman” step still looming large, but honestly? Tim wasn’t worried. Bruce would see the potential.

Here and now Bruce’s gaze had gone distant, and Tim could easily have kept going, but he stayed quiet. Let the man absorb new information, stop and think.

And if he still wanted to make dumbass decisions, well, Tim could argue with him literally all night. They’d all picked up Bruce’s stubbornness too.

**

It was hard to focus on the screen through the throbbing of his head, the lights too bright even at their lowest setting. He’d checked.

Luckily, it was an issue he’d been dealing with for years, and Bruce pushed it aside with the resigned acceptance of long practice.

He’d pay for it later. That night of sleep was probably going to be a day of sleep at this rate, but he’d get at least six hours. More if Alfred caught him.

For now… Tim felt very strongly about this. Had good reason to, if he was even half right about the scope of the problem, or Tucker’s uses as a solution.

After hearing from one member of the Justice League Dark, Bruce was desperately hoping Tim was right. They sorely needed an ally, one they could trust to guide them through these dangerous waters.

Of course, Fenton and Foley were close. That may skew his judgement, but it could be accounted for. Wasn’t worth more than an ally whose skillset Bruce understood, and could trust.

Tucker Foley was a tech expert, which put him above any occult master in Bruce’s book. Magic had no rules, not that could be relied on, and Bruce wouldn’t touch it if he didn’t have to.

And Tucker’s tech would work with his own.

There’d be a review period of course. He’d have to meet Tucker himself, speak to him a little, get a sense of the man. See how far his opinions would be based in fact, not feeling.

Tim’s vouch was a good first step. As little as Bruce liked that Tim had brought an outsider down to the lab. And then let him use Tim’s computer.

And honestly, it certainly wasn’t Tim’s fault that Bruce hadn’t asked. He’d been lax, not checked properly, and it was that damned concussion slowing him down.

He needed sleep. His thinking was dangerously clouded. But one thing was always true: he trusted Tim’s judgement. Probably more than he trusted his own at the moment.

They could review the situation in the morning, come up with some suitable punishment and protocol to introduce new vigilantes to the cave (which they’d never needed, because other heroes usually came through the League and were already vetted).

A thought struck and Bruce almost smiled. It would be a fitting solution on three separate sides. Maybe the punishment would be easy after all.

“Alright. I’ll need to speak to Foley first. And you will be writing out fresh protocols to address when a new hero but not a league member can be introduced to the cave,” he added, and Tim groaned loudly.

Bruce ignored him. That was just the start of his troubles.

“You will also be responsible for running John Constantine through the full reporting system, and updating the training materials so this doesn’t happen again.” It was a weight off his shoulders, really.

And a fitting punishment, because Tim would definitely think twice before pulling this stunt again. The man himself threw both his hands into the air.

“What?! Bruce! You said you fixed it!” He whined, and Bruce resisted the urge to smile.

“And I fixed Amity Park. But I highly doubt this was his only error, so the two of you will have to review every case he’s reported on before you go back on patrol.”

It was probably several hundred since they’d had the new system alone. Tim groaned like Bruce was sucking the soul from his body.

Bruce levelled him with a stern look.

“I take the secrecy of the cave seriously, Red Robin. This will not happen again.”

“Because I’m gonna die of old age sitting at a desk with Constantine,” Tim grumbled, folding his arms and scowling.

It wasn’t even something he could write a program to fudge for him; every case would need Constantine’s personal input to be sure it was filed correctly.

Bruce was quite pleased with this solution. But he made sure to hide the smile from Tim, who wouldn’t appreciate it right now.

“Tucker Foley may end up working out for us all, but that’s no guarantee a future mistake won’t be fatal. And Tim…” even if it was a formality at this point, he had to ask. “Do you trust him?”

The answer was obvious, this was Tim’s personal laptop, this was the Bat Cave, and as expected Tim nodded immediately, the sulk from his punishment vanishing.

“He’s a good guy. He’s even made a clean set of Amity Park data you can look through until Danny fixes the batcomputer.”

Ah. And there was the problem. With a solution wrapped around it though, so Bruce focused on the cleaned set of data.

If Tucker was anything like Tim, it’d be extensive enough to keep him busy until the Justice League came to a decision.

Until he could speak to Danny. Speak to Jason.

He was so tired.

Bruce nodded, leaning back in his seat.

“Alright. Tucker Foley is exempted, but I need you and the others to stay away from the rest, and particularly Danny Fenton until the League has made a decision.”

It was just a little heart breaking watching Tim’s face fall from hope and happiness straight back into worry.

“But Bruce… he’s helping Jason with the pit, he might need to see him,” he argued, arms folding again.

Bruce shook his head. That was exactly what he was afraid of.

“I know… and I know how Jason feels about following orders. I’ll tell him myself, tonight.” Luckily he was still in the batsuit, if not the cowl.

Raising his wrist to his face, Bruce activated his secondary comm on the group channel. He’d turned both off when his children headed out, fully aware Oracle would override it if they needed him.

He didn’t need to be distracted by the noises of a normal night.

“Everyone, return to the cave before heading in please. There have been developments I need to update you on.” Nothing to worry them, but hopefully interesting enough that Jason would still drop in.

No talk of protocols or anything. No, that was Tim’s future.

Tim, who was looking at him oddly.

“Who told you Jason went out tonight?” He asked, and Bruce frowned. Looked up at the batcomputer, and realized that the tracker screen wasn’t open.

That could be a problem.

“Didn’t he?” He asked, really not looking forward to asking Dick to ask Jason to drop by tonight. If Jason was actually home, actually sleeping…

But Tim shook his head, that odd expression still on his face.

“He never said he would, but he called in after taking Danny home. He’s out with Black Bat,” Tim added, and Bruce frowned.

Why even bring it up if Jason was out? What did it matter?

Tim, clearly seeing and understanding his confusion, groaned and tugged at his hair.

“Bruce. Please, just… listen to me. Danny isn’t the threat here. He’s been nothing but helpful. He’s the one who picked up the ball when the League dropped it, who dealt with all the ghosts we can’t. He saved that town-”

“We don’t know that, Tim,” Bruce cut him off, shaking his head sharply. “We can’t take that risk.”

He could see Tim getting frustrated, temper flaring, and in an odd way, it made him feel better. Calm. In control.

“Bruce, you stubborn… so what? We just tell Jason to keep away from the only person who makes him feel better?” Tim asked sarcastically, and Bruce could see exactly how he’d missed the point.

This was what he’d have to watch for with Tucker Foley. But the technical advantages would be worth it.

“We don’t know that he’s making the pits better,” Bruce said darkly, and fuck it felt good to even voice the thought aloud.

Made it feel real, less like paranoia.

Tim gaped at him, but didn’t argue.

Bruce raised a hand, counting the points off on his fingers.

One.

“None of us heard anything about him a week ago. Not even a few days. Fenton has been here over a year and only just ran into Jason?” It wasn’t possible.

It didn’t make sense. Gotham was a large city, sure, but for two people apparently so closely linked? No.

A second finger rose.

“Danny himself claims that he is helping with the pits.”

“Jason agrees,” Tim cut in, clearly looking to break his train of thought. Bruce silenced him with a stern glare.

“Danny claims he is helping with the pits. Jason claims to have noticed the same thing, but we already know the pits affect his mind. He may not understand what’s being done to him.”

That? That made perfect sense. The pits had driven Jason into those uncontrollable rages, made him do things he’d never have wanted to.

Who was to say they couldn’t have a more subtle influence? More dangerous? More like Ra’s himself.

Even Tim couldn’t argue with that, and Bruce nodded his satisfaction at the boy’s silence, raising a third finger. This… he wasn’t looking forward to this one.

But its weight had been sitting in his chest since the possibility came up, and he didn’t want to hide anything from his boys. They deserved to know the risks.

No matter how much he’d rather protect them from it.

“The little f… Constantine believes there is a chance that even being close to Danny may have dangerous side effects for Jason, purely accidentally.”

Tim’s eyebrow rose at the aborted description, and Bruce was glad he’d clamped down on it. Couldn’t quite meet the boy’s eye as he continued to explain.

“Danny’s connection to… his death,” the words were hard to even speak, another child lost, “is what gives him his power. It’s strong, and may have radiating effects Danny doesn’t even know about.”

Because that was kind of the worst part. There was a chance that Danny truly meant everything he’d said in earnest. That he was Jason’s friend, wanted to protect him.

Wanted to help Jason come back to himself and be free of the pit rage. That they did truly care for each other, and wanted to make each other better.

And none of those good intentions would matter if Danny’s mere presence risked Jason’s soul.

He could see Tim realizing it too, eyes widening and the aggression slumping from his shoulders. But he’d decided to be honest.

Clear, open communication. They could try.

“The way Jason came back… we still don’t know how it happened, or why. But anything half living and half dead can have side effects on the world around them, especially for those who have already died.”

Danny might be here to take Jason away. Back to the dead.

He’d meant to say the words, to lay it bare, but in the end he choked on them. Couldn’t even face the thought.

Tomorrow. After he slept. If they still needed convincing, he’d try again tomorrow. Which did neatly bring them to point number four.

Steeling himself, Bruce shifted his gaze back to Tim, raising his pinky finger.

“And if you are right, if Danny really is helping… it’ll only be for a few days. I meet with the League tomorrow. Zatanna and Shazam will both be there to give their opinions.”

Suddenly Bruce just felt tired. Tired of arguing, trying to make people see things his way. All he wanted was a couple of days. Just to be sure. Just to be safe.

Tim raised an eyebrow again, shifting slowly to lean against the other chair.

“Then why will it be a few days? Why not tomorrow?” He asked cautiously and Bruce chuckled.

Of course Tim knew him well enough to know there would be something else.

“I’d like to talk to him myself first. Perhaps have them meet him directly. Just to be sure what his intentions are in the city.”

“And with Jason,” Tim put in flatly. Bruce just nodded. The boy was right.

“With the city and with Jason,” he agreed, looking back up at the large screens of the batcomputer.

Pulled up the location tracker for his bats and birds, watching their little trails of light run across the city. He wouldn’t let any of those lights wink out.

Tim sighed and shook his head, coming to lean against the back of Bruce’s chair instead. Not quite tall enough to rest his chin on the top of Bruce’s head, and not likely to grow much more at nineteen.

“I still think it’s a bad idea,” he said bluntly, eyes tracking the Red Hood dot in particular. “You’ll only push Jason further away by trying to control who he sees.”

Bruce shook his head, leaning back just a little more into the presence of his son.

“I don’t care if Jason hates me for the rest of his life, so long as it’s a long and healthy one,” he said softly, and Tim snorted.

Pushed away from the chair, and for a moment the distance ached.

“Yeah, well. When it blows up in your face, I told you so. Did you wanna see Tucker tonight or tomorrow?” He asked, and Bruce’s head snapped suddenly around, scanning the cave.

“He’s still here?”

**

Shaking his head, Tim made his way across the cave to the infirmary, pulling out his phone where Bruce couldn’t see it. He shot off a quick text, not looking down.

‘J. Don’t come back to cave. B has mega bitch face just let him cool down’

**

Across the city, the message flashed in the corner of Red Hood’s helmet visor. Groaning to himself, Hood kicked a goon’s gun into Gotham bay and waved to Black Bat.

“You good? I gotta send a text.” He called, deeply offending the eight goons still standing, armed with knives and fucking pipes, and tussling with Black Bat.

Which only got worse when she shot him a quick thumbs up, sat on a particularly tall goon’s shoulders before throwing herself back so far the guy toppled, twisting them in the air so she still somehow wound up on top.

Hood nodded, pulling out his phone one handed.

“Hey! You can’t just text! We’re not done!” A goon protested, rushing in at Red Hood.

Who pulled his gun and shot him in both kneecaps, sending him sprawling to the slick planks of the dock.

This was why he always took out their shooters first. Batman could preach hand to hand all he liked, it was way safer when the bad guys had holes in their hands and no guns.

“Anyone else?” Hood asked rhetorically, pointing the last gun on the dock at the remaining goons in turn. In unison, all six focused their attention solely on Black Bat.

Not because they thought they’d win, but well. She didn’t have a fucking gun.

“Yeah, thought so,” Hood grumbled, sending a quick message back to Tim.

Paused to take a picture when Black Bat actually got three heads at once into a leg lock, because that had to be a record.

‘Is it to do with your big fuck up?’ Cuz honestly, what else could B be pissed about?

The answer came back though, fast and weird.

‘As hard as I also find it to believe this, no. Magician’s got him all twisted around about Phantom. Wants to forbid us all from seeing him.’

The phone creaked in Jason’s grip as he read the last words, a low rumbling growl spilling from low in his chest.

The remaining standing goons whipped around and exchanged startled looks.

That. That definitely wasn’t fucking good. No way.

Black Bat took another to floor as they paused, and the last three fled. Didn’t quite make it to the door.

Jason didn’t notice until her hand landed gently on his shoulder, concern radiating off her. His head whipped round, and he was suddenly glad the full helmet covered his face.

Couldn’t see the way he fucking snarled at her.

Black Bat didn’t move, her head cocked to one side as she regarded him.

“Eyes. Glowing,” she told him carefully, reaching up to touch the side of his helmet.

Jason jerked back in shock, but he could already feel the green rushing away. Receding until his vision purely his own again.

He hadn’t even noticed the green haze.

Black Bat inspected him again, then nodded, going on tiptoes to pat him on top of the head.

“What’s wrong?”

Red Hood sucked in a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment to recenter. He’d never felt the rage come on that fast, from nothing to all consuming before he even felt it.

Even thinking of the messages made angry green tides again.

We will not be kept from the King!

And it was talking to him again. Lovely. Why couldn’t that part have been his imagination?

Shaking his head, he focused on Black Bat’s question instead.

“Just B bein’ an asshole again. I’m gonna pass on the cave tonight, tell him I went to bed.” It was about as much as he thought he could talk about it without screaming.

Almost forgot that Black Bat could read him too, her aura still soothing and open to him as she nodded. Rested a hand gently on his shoulder.

“Go now. Rest,” she told him firmly, turning back to the downed and groaning goons.

Red Hood hesitated, looking around the dock. It was getting early, nearly time to turn in anyway, and they were done here. Just a routine drug shipment.

The last lot too dense to be cowed by the mood on the streets, or counting on the hour to mean the bats went to bed. Cuz that went so well for them.

He nodded and moved to help her, flipping the biggest goon over and zip tying his wrists to his elbows, and then his ankles.

“After I help you wrap your presents,” he agreed, heard Black Bat let out a soft huff of laughter.

One of the still conscious goons shot him a glare.

“Y’could at least pretend to take us seriously,” she grumbled, then yelped as one of her fellow goons kicked her in the shins.

Clear message: do not push the crazy bat.

Red Hood snorted.

“I’ll take you seriously when you’ve fuckin’ earned it,” he told her, going for the next biggest body.

Black Bat could take every one of them out of the fight, but bagging and tagging a dead weight was much less fun for her. He could handle that part before turning in.

He had a big day tomorrow.

**

Private Chat: DannyP & TooFine

4:30am

‘TooFine: dude Tim just shoved me in a closet I don’t think Batman knows I’m here?????’

‘TooFine: dude’

‘TooFine: dude wake tf up I might need emergency evac 🚨🚨’

4:35am

‘TooFine: that fucking Constantine guy’s put a bug in Batman’s ass’

‘TooFine: told u we shoulda hunted him down 😤’

‘TooFine: and after all I did to help!! Ungrateful bat!!’

4:46am

‘TooFine: okay Batman fucking hates u specifically ur screwed 😳’

‘TooFine: I’m good tho 😇’

‘TooFine: I think he likes me now 😏’

‘TooFine: he wants all my sweet tech upgrades’

‘TooFine: they’re gonna let me play on the batcomputer!!! 😳😳😳’

5am

‘TooFine: u are missing vital updates bitch’

‘TooFine: he’s gonna fucking ground Jason from hanging out with u’

‘TooFine: AH SHIT HE KNOWS IM HERE ABORT ABORT ABORT’

8am

‘TooFine: u may have been right going to bed early man this shit sucks’

‘TooFine: didn’t even get to see what happened’

‘TooFine: they sent me to bed like a naughty child! 😤’

‘TooFine: I’m changing all his ring tones to Funky Town’

10:59am

‘DannyP: okay miette’

11:02am

‘HalfBitch: OKAY IM SORRY TUCKER AT LEAST TAKE THE MAGIC MIKE THEME OFF’

——————————

Next Chapter:

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

[underworld-park-offical]

CRAIG: Hey homos

CRAIG: Remember when I said I made a Tumblr like

CRAIG: A year ago?

STAN: Yeah, that thing is more inactive than my Myspace

KYLE: You still use Myspace???

STAN: Uh…

STAN: Maybe…

STAN: But making fun of Craig is more fun than making fun of me

KYLE: Oh yeah

CRAIG: Wow, okay, first of all, fuck you guys

CRAIG: Second, we got an ask I think? 

KYLE: What do you mean you think ???

CRAIG: I don't know! Tumblr’s ask blog stuff usually sucks on Mobile

CRAIG: But I was thinking…

CRAIG: What if we like….

CRAIG: Use the questions on the blog to like uhm….

CRAIG: Ask the ghost or demon or whatever the questions?

CRAIG: Since we’re all probably too high to think clearly

TOLKIEN: No, that's just you and Kenny

TOLKIEN: The rest of us are fine

CRAIG: Haha lmao me when I lie

TOLKIEN: Shut up

CRAIG: Ew, Tolkien don't touch me

TOLKIEN: I am literally not, bitch

JIMMY: Am I w-w-w-witnessing a l-lovers q-q-q-q-quarrel?

TOLKIEN: God no

CRAIG: I would rather put a bunch of nails into a blender, sprinkle in some thumbtacks, blend it together with my hand STILL IN THE BLENDER, drink up the nails, thumbtacks, AND MY HAND AS I AM BLEEDING OUT, than EVER date Tolkien

CRAIG: Besides, he’s stupidly dating Clyde anyway

CLYDE: I CAN'T REACH THE BOARD I HAVE BIG FAT SAUSAGE FINGERS

KENNY: Well don't squish my HAND with your SAUSAGE FINGERS

CLYDE: I CAN'T HELP IT CLYDE: I CAN'T HELP THAT MY GENETICS CURSED ME WITH BIG FAT MANLY MAN HANDS

KENNY: You are the straightest gay person I've ever met

KENNY: I bet you watch Andrew Tate videos in the Home Depot shelves

CLYDE: HEY!!

CLYDE: …They kicked me out so I can't do that anymore

CARTMAN: I hate this so much, I hope all of you know that

KYLE: Shut up, like actually

STAN: What's the first question, Big Supreme Man?

CRAIG: ….

CRAIG: Never breathe those words in my presence ever again or I will twist you like an Auntie Anne's pretzel

STAN: Well butter my biscuit and call me Popeyes

CRAIG: Hey Kenny, Do you think you could fight a demon?

KENNY: HELL YEAH!

KENNY: In fact….

KENNY: HEY!! If there's a spirit watching, I bet I could kick your ass!

JIMMY: K-K-K-K-K-Kenny, d-d-d-don't you kn-kn-know the f-f-f-first r-rule of h-horror m-movies?

JIMMY: D-don't p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-piss off th-the ghost

KENNY: The ghost can go Sugondeez

KYLE: Sugondeez?

KENNY: SUGONDEEZ NU-

CRAIG: WAWAWAWAWAWAIT SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP

CRAIG: I wanna ask something

CRAIG: Is anyone there?

TOLKIEN: That is the most vanilla shit you could ever ask

CRAIG: Fuck you

(silence)

KYLE: Nothings happening

STAN: Lame

STAN: We did this for nothing

JIMMY: Uh, f-fellas?

JIMMY: L-l-l-l-look at th-this!

CLYDE: WAHHHHH WHAT THE FUCK WHOS DOING THAT?!

CLYDE: I'M GONNA PISS AND SHIT MYSELF!

KENNY: Does anyone wanna trade places with me?

LITERALLY EVERYONE: No

CRAIG: (pulls out phone)

KYLE: ARE YOU FILMING THIS RIGHT NOW????

CRAIG: If I'm gonna die, I wanna die famous

KYLE: UGHHHHHHHHHHH

STAN: H……..e……..y?

CRAIG: Woah, cool

CRAIG: This is gonna look so cool on my Google + account

STAN: ....Excuse me??

KYLE: Google + ?????

STAN: Who in their right mind still uses Google + ????

CRAIG: Me, your super totally cool and awesome famous friend who you should stop bullying

CRAIG: Anyways, what's up Ghost? Say hi to my fans

CRAIG: .....This is gonna get me so much clout

LITERALLY EVERYONE: (ANNOYED GROAN)

(EDITS BY @pissblanket)

[souji-upseta]

yo my name is nyx, it's my birthday today (2/3). my birthdays have sucked SHIT the past few years for reasons that are depressing—

—cringe is also dead, i killed her myself, and i'm still grieving her loss. its been very hard for me—

—since i am the protagonist of Me and can do st abt this, this year i turn 31, and i will at some point turn 31.4, with all of this in mind, what do i want for my birthday? i'll tell you:

to talk about homestuck.

i'll do that, anyways, but you'd be doing me a gift by giving me a prompt to follow, and to feel slightly more validated in my inability to shut up about my hyperfixation.

so i'm asking YOU to talk about homestuck with me.

talk to me abt homestuck? ask me my headcanons. my thoughts. my relationship to the work. tell me yours. expect nothing that's profound, and plenty that's stupid.

i'm even turning anon on, for the first time in 6 fucking years. where making this happen.

this never expires btw. today is my birthday, but, for story purposes, let's say that it's still my birthday after it isn't, bc i will still want and, if i am honest, NEED you to talk to me about homestuck for years onward. i'm very metatextual like that.

i get the feeling it's going to be a long day.

>Nyx: Be the other guy.

You are now the other guy! What will you do?

>Web Tumblr User: Inbox Tumblr user souji-upseta?

>Mobile App Tumblr User: Do that, but hyperlink is unavailable?

=(n×∞)>

FOURTH WALL BREAK!

you are now nyx again, and i am now me, and i need to exposit some lore.

as in, some starting points to get u going, since "homestuck" is a very broad subject:

•i'm a massive massive slut for the epilogues and post canon content/hsbc. pesterquest is too good for this gay earth.

•dirk is my fav, ALL of the dirks, all of them, and it isn't even close. my fav relationship is the canon platonic/familial one between dirk and dave. i fucking love the striders. dave is my 1.5th fav.

•im more invested in dave's relationship to corndogs (and corn dogs) than you even know.

•mspa reader is my second fav after the striders, bc they are a good thembo friendsimp and also bc they are me and they are You. i might be biased. i love You. i love me. i love us. we're fucking gr8.

•im pretty canon-compliant, so my fav ship is dirkjake as exes (for now), and my fav ship as not-exes is panquadrant (canon) davekat.

i'm also really fascinated by rosemary and would welcome more opportunities to learn abt and talk about them but if homestuck makes a statement about anything it's to let the women and the sapphic characters tell their story (thats a joke, talk to me abt them too)

•june eg(g)bert real.

•i'm fascinated by classpects and the applications of paradox space's classpecting and extended zodiac system when applied to real life, since our only experience of those fictional systems is in linear dimensions of spacetime, and our only experience of astrology is as a species that in-universe cannot experience the sign caste system the same way the fictional aliens that created our species in their own image do. skaia knows, but we sure as fuck don't.

•i'm a former prince of heart (2012-2020) and a current knight of space, and my aspect is light. that is a thing that actually makes perfect sense for the reasons i just said.

don't ask me about vriska serket or (vriska) serket. not bc i'm not willing to discuss dark or problematic characters (hello, lanque bombyx) but bc:

for one, she can speak for her damn self, and has, tyvm.

for two, talking at length about a problematic character in any positive capacity marks you as an enemy of the state if that character is a woman, and being an enemy of the state is way too much fucking pressure for me for reasons i already explained as soon as i told you i'm a knignt of space. i wouldnt make a very good enemy of the state. it'd be an unhealthy blackrom relationship to the detriment of us all.

for three, i can just give you all my opinions/headcanons on vriska that matter:

•JOHN HUGGING VRISKA IN HSBC YESSSSSSSSSS

•she's greasy and gross and unkept af but not unclean or unsanitary, like, she bathes, she smells fine, she changes her clothes, but she's got the troll crust punk aesthetic absolutely on LOCK. she doesn't comb her hair.

•it would have been funny if she did even more bad things

•aradia did nothing wrong. vriska did but the meme is funny even if someone needs to take that meme out back and shoot it for the good of humanity.

•she should beat up ultimate dirk, and my reasoning for that is bc that would, also, be really fucking funny if she did

•john has both punched her in the face and hugged her, and now that john has punched aranea in the face, all that's left is for june—i assume she will have come out of her egg(bert) by then—to hug aranea and complete the circle of stupidity.

•she is trans yeah but she doesn't wanna get into it, she doesn't have to, and neither do i.

•vrisrezi most important relationship in homestuck.

there. you already got me to talk about vriska at length, and you didn't have to try. moot issue.

[menelaiad]

ik you've talked about it before but tumblr blog search on mobile sucks ass so if it's not too much of a bother could you redirect me to your posts on why you dislike emily wilson?

i've never made a post on it. but, here you go:

as a translator? i have no issues with her. her translations are pretty good. so her 'work' i don't have a problem with. don't get me wrong, sometimes i think she toes that dangerous line of 'women good. men bad. feminism.' black and white line very finely. it's a lot more subtle than most modern classicsts but yKNOW.

my issue comes from her introduction to the odyssey. so it's her introduction. her own thoughts. not a translation of something. or outside influence. HER introduction. she says:

The second is piled high with newly acquired treasure, brought by blustering, self-pitying Menelaus. As Menelaus pompously declares ... we meet the beautiful and frighteningly intelligent Helen back home in Sparta, with her wealthy, blustering, and rather less intelligent husband, Menelaus. ...and the rich, narcissistic, uxorious Menelaus.

she then, in book 4, translates the original text in which menelaus is NONE of these things. the only thing he's guilty of really, is the rich thing. cause telemachus is all like 'damn bro ur loaded'. but menelaus is not arrogant about it. he's not smug. he's not narcissistic. he literally says like 2 lines later that he would give away most of his wealth if it meant those who died at troy could come home.

'self-pitying' WHERE?! he cries because he feels GUILTY. the tears are not for him. they are the for the men who died at troy. i'm not getting quotes because it's literally in book fucking 4. he is NOT feeling sorry for himself he is MAD at himself for troy. the only thing i can THINK where he even links his tears to himself is because he says something like, 'every time i think of them i cry because i miss them all' or smth like that. he's not crying for HIM.

'rather less intelligent husband' - you know my feelings on this. menelaus is not stupid. helen is just very smart. and THATS FINE. i love helen being the brains, i'm not against a smart woman and her husband not being as smart. but like. because he doesnt recognise telemachus straight away? or the bird omen? he's stupid? really. we're gonna measure his WHOLE intelligence on that?

'uxorious'. menelaus loves his wife and that's pathetic and funny apparently? tell me. does she describe odysseus this way? hektor in the new iliad translation? i dont think so. 'excessive love their wife' that's what uxorious means. oh im sorry. forgiving ur wife and building a relationship with her and trying to move on together and being nice to her .... that excessive now??? thats??? bad???????

she literally takes menelaus' shining moments in the odyssey. him feeling guilty and remorseful. him showing how haunted he is by the war. him caring and loving helen despite everything. the fact that he is a compassionate. kind. loving man (in comparison to most homeric men) ----- and uses them to insult him. and it just GENUINLEY baffles me. because she wrote that introduction. and then four books later is ENTIRELY proven wrong? im so-----

dont get me wrong. some of this is just very pettty 'you're wrong about menelaus' anger. but some of it is BAFFLEMENT at the fact that she has this in her introduction, those are HER thoughts. and then when you actually get to the text of the odyssey from homer. she is wrong. cause she can't change those greek words too much. translation is a tricky mistress, sure. but she cant go and say 'then menelaus didnt care for those men' because that's just outright WRONG. she has to translate, as faithfully as she can, whats there. and whats there is NOT what she claimed in the introduction.

[apileofpans]

Thanks for the tag @shinyfire-0 !!! ✨✨ also, fuck tumblr for being weird with adding hyperlinks? Sigh, mobile posting sucks

Fanfic author tag game

How many works do you have on AO3

29!

What’s your total AO3 word count

411,837 (also just hit the 1,000 bookmarks milestone!)

Top 5 stories by kudos

Leave Box Five empty for my use - Erik/Raoul, PWP (this was meant to be a singular blowjob in box five…..)

Wishing - Erik/Christine, time travel fix-it

Stranger Than You Dreamt It - Erik/Christine, canon divergent fix-it where they actually communicate after the unmasking

I shall be taking my seat in Box Five - Erik/Raoul, direct sequel to the #1 on this list :) plot with porn !

You Are Music - Erik/Christine/Raoul, AU where Christine and Raoul realise they can just add Erik to their relationship

Do you respond to comments?

Usually, yes! If there’s some substance to the comment I like to reply a thank you :) though my Box Five 2 fic I didn’t do so. I didn’t wanna inflate the comment count idk LOL that fic is the exception though!

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstigst ending?

Why do you curse mercy? - Hey man, wanna see me fucking kill Raoul? Yeah. He’s my baby boy but RumpleTrumple wrote this amazing killing Raoul fic and I got inspired and woof.

We had a taste of joy… the most we ever knew - I forgot I wrote this but, uh. This is literally three chapters of Erik and Raoul dying and leaving the other devastated

Do you write cross-overs?

No. I don’t care for them. I want my blorbos in the right space without interference of other blorbos thank yew

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yup! On my Wishing fic somebody actually commented something along the lines of ‘this is a cool premise that would be way better written by somebody else’ lmfao

Do you write smut? If yes, what kind?

Yes. Just, yes. I wrote a goddamn gangrape fic man, Idk. Some messed up shit

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I know!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope! Would be fun to try it out tho I think!

What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Erik/Raoul. Special shoutout to Erik/Nadir/Raoul—I am the president AND fan of this fanclub I created

What’s a WIP you want to finish but most likely never will?

This fucking LND rewrite I started way back in 2021 when I first got back in Phantom. It’s 31k already and I just. Stopped. It was E/C, too

What are your writing strengths?

I think I get characterisation right most of the time. At least consistent with how I write my boys! Same with the dynamics, I think. I set out a specific way to write a story and/or dynamic, and I usually succeed!

What are your writing weaknesses?

I really ought to describe environments and how somebody looks more. I just like people to envision their own version of a character

What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

Raj/Howard from the Big Bang Theory. Have a singular small fic in the works for them, that’s it! Anything I want to write I usually get to in due time :)

I tag whoever would like to do it!! :3c

[stuffedsand]

Wahey milgram oc time my silly guya

013 - Shiratori Masaki

My boy

- 20

- prisoner number 013 (I slapped them into base milgram cuz I don't wanna make a whole new cast)

- to quote my own character notes: cringefail specimen of a man.

-- fun name thing! His first name means "true, hope" hehe

UNDERCOVER

"Under, oh so aware of all that you say

This makes me sick, so please, go away"

Votes (fabricated lmao)

T1 - INNOCENT

T2 - GUILTY

Songs of Prisoners

+T1 – what…what are you talking about?

+T2 – no…you-you’re lying!

Voice trailer (t1)

Oh uh… Shiratori Masaki, that's my name. 20, uni student. Uhh what else … oh, sorry if I forget anything, i, ah, my memory has never been any good

If I'm being honest…I don't know what the hell you're talking about! No one around me has died recently. At least…not as far as I can recall…

*Takai? Takai! Wake up! This isn't funny..!*

Voice trailer (t2)

Hi, Es-kun, how have you been? Ah, Shiratori Masaki. You didn't forget our deal, right?

*Shut up! I don't want to listen to you and your stupid problems anymore!*

Personality

-- a timid yet stubborn man. It is very difficult to change his opinions on things. Polite, but very quick to turn defensive if blame is turned on him.

He can be a prick at times.

Extra notes

-- a man with really bad memory loss. During T1 interro, he makes a deal that he'll take MILGRAM seriously if Es can tell him who his victim is. And he has to believe it

-- not mentioned but his memory loss is a trauma response. Dead bodies are traumatic I don't think that's a contraversial take

-- the indirect murderer of the pair

Full body:

Please note -- his ugly fucking shoes were not an accident he has a horrible fashion sense

014 - Akabane Kazuko

The She

-23

-prisoner number 014

-based off one of my multifandom ocs (and my favourite of the 2)

--fun name thing! Her name means "gentle/kind/harmonious child". 子 is also(apparantly) male specific. I have fun reasons for that

UNDERCOVER

(pardon the artstyle change this was done on my tablet instead of my computer and was. Rushed💀)

Under, I don't care if I'm in the right or wrong

Songs of prisoners

Full of malice, we will waltz to our doom

Votes (edit)

T1 - guilty

T2 - (?)

+t1 – let's get on with it, shall we?

+T2 – ...you're not very good at this.

T1 – voice trailer

Hello. I am Akabane Kazuko. 24. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Warden.

I am interested in how all this will play out. But nothing will really change the impact of our actions. Remember that, Warden

* My final act… will take your breath away! *

T2 – voice trailer

Good day, Warden. Kazuko, you remember, yes? Seems your choices have caused quite the ruckus.

* You…You know what you've done! I'll make you pay for it!*

Personality

-- a calm and gentle woman. A showman at heart, she is elegant and loves performing magic tricks.

-- some are unsettled by her, but she does her best to be kind and friendly to those she speaks to

Extra notes:

-- Magician coded :)

-- because I can fabricate fan theories, es assumed they killed 2 people in trial one. They have only killed one.

-- the direct murderer of the pair

Full body: (outdated a lil, I changed her vibe. Design still stands)

Please note -- bowling alley socks

Interro qns (please give me some interro questions tho I'm very bad at thinking any up)

Also note: interros are formatted as

--

Question

Kazuko

Masaki

--

Cuz I wrote this when I labelled Kazuko as 001 and Masaki as 002. I'm changing it to reflect their new numbers but editing on Tumblr mobile sucks so I'm not changing the order </3

Q)Tell us your family structure

014 — mother, self, brother,

...it's just me now

013 — parents, me and my twin, Shiratori Takai.

Q)Is there people you hate?

014 — hypocrites.

Don't become one, warden

013 — people who always depend on you

Q)Which prisoner is the most similar to you?

014 – yuzuriha kotoko.

013 – hm...

Probably kayano. He looks like he doesn't know why he's here, too

Q)What was your murder weapon?

014 — what a bold question

It was a bottle.

013 — haha, I'll humour you for this one

Hmmmm...... My words, maybe? I've been told i have quite a sharp tongue

Q)What was your family like?

014 — kind, resilient. They were wonderful. I

loved them

013 — they're ok.

Which prisoner do you get along with the least?

014 — mr mukuhara. Nothing against him, he just reminds me of someone.

013 — ���Kusunoki. No reason, but I do wish she'd stop trying to talk to me. It's annoying.

Q)How has your experience been within MILGRAM ?

014 — quite good, considering we're all in here for murder.

013 — uh… good? I still don't believe you saying we're all murderers.

Q)Do you have regrets?

014 — yes. I should have done something sooner

013 — no? I did argue with my brother recently, but it was nothing, really. I'll apologize and everything will be fine

Q)Is there a verdict you hope for?

014) all I hope for is your honest judgement. I want to see how you choose to judge

013) Well, since I don't think I've done anything… I'd hope to be forgiven, of course.

Who was your victim to you?

014) nothing.

013) eh? Warden, I don't know. We made a deal remember? You tell me!

What is your father like?

014) i dont consider him my father.

013) uh…he’s my dad. What more do you want me to say, really...

What do you think of the prisoner paired with you?

014) Shiratori? Not much opinion. I do wonder what he's done to be here, though.

013) Ms Kazuko..? Shes intimidating, if I'm being honest. Not scary, just...intimidating

[killerqueenofficial]

I feel like Tumblr is taking away the only social media I could still bear to be on. It fucking sucks and it pains me to see the internet being controlled by corporations that have destroyed all the good things about the internet.

I'm so exhausted and there is really no end in sight, I'm sure in 10 years I'll look back and nostalgically yearn for this era of the internet to return because it just keeps going further and further down the fucking drain. A year ago I genuinely believed that the future of the internet would turn back to the way things used to be, but now I see every site optimize exclusively for mobile devices, where 3/4 of your desktop screen is empty because their website is only designed to work in portrait aspect ratios, i see fewer and fewer people willing to leave the dread inducing giants like twitter and instagram.

Hell, kids 10 years younger than me barely ever use an actual computer (and why would they when they were given tablets as toddlers so their parents wouldn't have to waste what little energy they have from working insane hours just to feed their family) and haven't been taught proper internet safety so now even more laws are going to be enacted to "keep the children safe" all the while destroying the usability of the internet for anyone over the age of 18 who isn't a straight white christian mom or dad.

My heart is breaks every day upon reading or hearing yet another news story about how Google is planning to further shitify the web as a whole... or I log on to what was once my refuge to find that they have taken yet another step towards becoming something they were never meant to or designed to be...

Google is unusable, Youtube's algorithm has quickly become the actual fucking worst for both creators and fans, and they know young people especially have nothing outside of the internet so they'll do whatever the fuck they want because they know we have no where else to go and don't have the social skills, or time, or money, or energy, to make connections in real life spaces. I feel like walls are closing in on me, does anyone else feel it?

[gingerylangylang1979]

I am avoiding management positions as much as possible in the future.

I am finally up for two positions in my field that are a step up but not management. Every field I have worked in the only way to move up has been management and I'm honestly sick of it. I have never liked managing but always end up doing it because I'm smart, innovative, dedicated, detail oriented, and organized. I got sucked into thinking the next time would be great and it was a reward for my hard work. It ends up feeling like punishment every damn time. People love to promote me to leadership but every time that happens I hate it and hate my life shortly after.

In my current role I manage two teams totaling 18 people, multiple information sites, and a meeting space. I'm so over it. The next position will not be management, but to move up after that most likely will be again. And I think I will just stay at the level and not care. I would rather have my sanity than be the point person for personnel and resources. I know I've already quiet quit, thus the amount of time spent on Tumblr during the workday, haha! And I don't even feel guilty about it because my shit is still handled. The difference is that in the past I would have added even more projects or found ways to help others and "go above and beyond" and I'm just not doing it any more for a job I hate.

The jobs I'm up for will allow me to use my creativity and work on projects I want to work on, that are scholarly and engaging, all without the responsibilities that come with babysitting adults. All I do now is maintain service and systems. My goal is to become so much of a subject expert that I can be hired for my niche knowledge and skill set without fucking having employees!

This is so stream of conscious ranting. But just a cautionary tale for anyone dead set on thinking management is the end all be all in upward mobility. Most people actually think it sucks but they have no other options so they just do it for more money or think it's going to give them more freedom. The money usually isn't enough or worth it and the freedom is a joke.

[cadavaberry]

WTF, reddit

Well fuck me... I'm back. I never thought I'd come back to Tumblr, but thanks to reddit's idiotic new changes, god knows what's going to happen to the site I joined via recommendation from my university's FB page, and actively participated in since 2011.

11 years on reddit and now they're destroying the site the same way Tumblr got fucked in 2013. Is it still like that? I miss old Tumblr, even if I didn't spend as much time here as I did on reddit.

Good riddance to the site that disgraced Aaron Swartz's spirit by removing him from the list of co-founders (Why though? Just to be assholes? Spez strikes again).

I privated my sub & received an automated mod mail telling me to open it or else. Take it from me then. It's all meaningless now.

Worst part is, the APIs they're charging money for are the same APIs that allow people with disabilities to use reddit in the first place. Because reddit's accessibility tools are allegedly so ass that blind folks have to rely on third-party APIs to make it usable. Apparently reddit doesn't even comply with ADA guidelines completely? Please let me be wrong.

Where is everyone going now? I heard it's Lemmy.world, while others are on Discord or kbin or other such platforms. This sucks. I wish there was one centralized site everyone could migrate to. I'm sure reddit will eventually rebuild itself with shitty new rules once it goes public.

I suppose this rule change is a purge for them to get rid of their old userbase to welcome in a new base of people who are easier to control? The kind of people that don't care about tweaking their reddit experience, and are happy to roll with the changes reddit decides are best for the site and/or advertisers.

Speaking of changes, I've never had the need to use reddit mobile apps or Apollo and such, just the old reddit basic ass vanilla theme from when I first joined the site. Once they get rid of that and force the redesign on everyone, I'll probably end up finding the site frustrating and unenjoyable to use and use it less, hopefully.

Anyway, remember spez faked a lot of posts early in reddit's history to make the site look active? Yeah. Expect the same thing to return. The botfarm issue will only intensify. Expect low-effort ChatGPT-generated comments across reddit.

reddit's death will be a slow one, like Digg's. There will be no mass exodus of users. I don't know when a true competitor to reddit will arrive, but it eventually will.

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

The ratio of like to reblogs says it all.

None of us are asking for this, no one wants anything of this we want you to listen to us.

Anyone who spends any time on Tumblr knows that some sides of it can be heavy as all hell and a chronological feed allows users to choose if they want to see that. Some of us come to Tumblr to get away from that.

You know what we want? Group texts back, not having to deal with problems like we're play whack a mole, we want you to listen to us.

Blaze is a perfect example of how much it sucks to have your space invaded by posts you don't want. When I'm scrolling through Tumblr at four in the morning because I'm too anxious to sleep, I don't want to see a post about something horrible that's been blazed to my feed.

I follow people who post certain material but I'm following that person and therefore I am consenting to see it, it doesn't mean I want to see someone advertising their onlyfans and yet, there are times when near-naked photos of strangers have shown up on my feed because they've been blazed to it. I write smut for fun, I'm not a prude, this is about consent.

This posts talks about so much but there are still links of app that open and the web and can't be used and it's been that was for months.

If you take away chronological feed, you will fuck small creators who don't have numbers and rely on followers for views. You haven't been listening to us because we have told you why creators are leaving and it's because of you.

Creators are essential to the Tumblr community. However, we haven’t always had a consistent and coordinated effort around retaining, nurturing, and growing our creator base.

Then listen to us

The stability and performance of our mobile apps have declined. There is a large backlog of production issues, with more bugs created than resolved over the last 300 days.

So stop giving us new shit we didn't ask for and focus on fixing problems.

You wanna know why AO3 always makes their donations targets and when they go down the whole internet cries? Because they never pull shit like this.

You have misunderstood the fundamental part of creator spaces in that they have a culture. In some fandoms, this created space is the only thing that keeps people posting.

For fucks sake, how much do we need to scream into the void before we get what we want?

Tumblr’s Core Product Strategy

Here at Tumblr, we’ve been working hard on reorganizing how we work in a bid to gain more users. A larger user base means a more sustainable company, and means we get to stick around and do this thing with you all a bit longer. What follows is the strategy we're using to accomplish the goal of user growth. The @labs group has published a bit already, but this is bigger. We’re publishing it publicly for the first time, in an effort to work more transparently with all of you in the Tumblr community. This strategy provides guidance amid limited resources, allowing our teams to focus on specific key areas to ensure Tumblr’s future.

The Diagnosis

In order for Tumblr to grow, we need to fix the core experience that makes Tumblr a useful place for users. The underlying problem is that Tumblr is not easy to use. Historically, we have expected users to curate their feeds and lean into curating their experience. But this expectation introduces friction to the user experience and only serves a small portion of our audience. 

Tumblr’s competitive advantage lies in its unique content and vibrant communities. As the forerunner of internet culture, Tumblr encompasses a wide range of interests, such as entertainment, art, gaming, fandom, fashion, and music. People come to Tumblr to immerse themselves in this culture, making it essential for us to ensure a seamless connection between people and content. 

To guarantee Tumblr’s continued success, we’ve got to prioritize fostering that seamless connection between people and content. This involves attracting and retaining new users and creators, nurturing their growth, and encouraging frequent engagement with the platform.

Our Guiding Principles

To enhance Tumblr’s usability, we must address these core guiding principles.

Expand the ways new users can discover and sign up for Tumblr.

Provide high-quality content with every app launch.

Facilitate easier user participation in conversations.

Retain and grow our creator base.

Create patterns that encourage users to keep returning to Tumblr.

Improve the platform’s performance, stability, and quality.

Below is a deep dive into each of these principles.

Principle 1: Expand the ways new users can discover and sign up for Tumblr.

Tumblr has a “top of the funnel” issue in converting non-users into engaged logged-in users. We also have not invested in industry standard SEO practices to ensure a robust top of the funnel. The referral traffic that we do get from external sources is dispersed across different pages with inconsistent user experiences, which results in a missed opportunity to convert these users into regular Tumblr users. For example, users from search engines often land on pages within the blog network and blog view—where there isn’t much of a reason to sign up. 

We need to experiment with logged-out tumblr.com to ensure we are capturing the highest potential conversion rate for visitors into sign-ups and log-ins. We might want to explore showing the potential future user the full breadth of content that Tumblr has to offer on our logged-out pages. We want people to be able to easily understand the potential behind Tumblr without having to navigate multiple tabs and pages to figure it out. Our current logged-out explore page does very little to help users understand “what is Tumblr.” which is a missed opportunity to get people excited about joining the site.

Actions & Next Steps

Improving Tumblr’s search engine optimization (SEO) practices to be in line with industry standards.

Experiment with logged out tumblr.com to achieve the highest conversion rate for sign-ups and log-ins, explore ways for visitors to “get” Tumblr and entice them to sign up.

Principle 2: Provide high-quality content with every app launch.

We need to ensure the highest quality user experience by presenting fresh and relevant content tailored to the user’s diverse interests during each session. If the user has a bad content experience, the fault lies with the product.

The default position should always be that the user does not know how to navigate the application. Additionally, we need to ensure that when people search for content related to their interests, it is easily accessible without any confusing limitations or unexpected roadblocks in their journey.

Being a 15-year-old brand is tough because the brand carries the baggage of a person’s preconceived impressions of Tumblr. On average, a user only sees 25 posts per session, so the first 25 posts have to convey the value of Tumblr: it is a vibrant community with lots of untapped potential. We never want to leave the user believing that Tumblr is a place that is stale and not relevant. 

Actions & Next Steps

Deliver great content each time the app is opened.

Make it easier for users to understand where the vibrant communities on Tumblr are. 

Improve our algorithmic ranking capabilities across all feeds. 

Principle 3: Facilitate easier user participation in conversations.

Part of Tumblr’s charm lies in its capacity to showcase the evolution of conversations and the clever remarks found within reblog chains and replies. Engaging in these discussions should be enjoyable and effortless.

Unfortunately, the current way that conversations work on Tumblr across replies and reblogs is confusing for new users. The limitations around engaging with individual reblogs, replies only applying to the original post, and the inability to easily follow threaded conversations make it difficult for users to join the conversation.

Actions & Next Steps

Address the confusion within replies and reblogs.

Improve the conversational posting features around replies and reblogs. 

Allow engagements on individual replies and reblogs.

Make it easier for users to follow the various conversation paths within a reblog thread. 

Remove clutter in the conversation by collapsing reblog threads. 

Explore the feasibility of removing duplicate reblogs within a user’s Following feed. 

Principle 4: Retain and grow our creator base.

Creators are essential to the Tumblr community. However, we haven’t always had a consistent and coordinated effort around retaining, nurturing, and growing our creator base.  

Being a new creator on Tumblr can be intimidating, with a high likelihood of leaving or disappointment upon sharing creations without receiving engagement or feedback. We need to ensure that we have the expected creator tools and foster the rewarding feedback loops that keep creators around and enable them to thrive.

The lack of feedback stems from the outdated decision to only show content from followed blogs on the main dashboard feed (“Following”), perpetuating a cycle where popular blogs continue to gain more visibility at the expense of helping new creators. To address this, we need to prioritize supporting and nurturing the growth of new creators on the platform.

It is also imperative that creators, like everyone on Tumblr, feel safe and in control of their experience. Whether it be an ask from the community or engagement on a post, being successful on Tumblr should never feel like a punishing experience.

Actions & Next Steps

Get creators’ new content in front of people who are interested in it. 

Improve the feedback loop for creators, incentivizing them to continue posting.

Build mechanisms to protect creators from being spammed by notifications when they go viral.

Expand ways to co-create content, such as by adding the capability to embed Tumblr links in posts.

Principle 5: Create patterns that encourage users to keep returning to Tumblr.

Push notifications and emails are essential tools to increase user engagement, improve user retention, and facilitate content discovery. Our strategy of reaching out to you, the user, should be well-coordinated across product, commercial, and marketing teams.

Our messaging strategy needs to be personalized and adapt to a user’s shifting interests. Our messages should keep users in the know on the latest activity in their community, as well as keeping Tumblr top of mind as the place to go for witty takes and remixes of the latest shows and real-life events.  

Most importantly, our messages should be thoughtful and should never come across as spammy.  

Actions & Next Steps

Conduct an audit of our messaging strategy.

Address the issue of notifications getting too noisy; throttle, collapse or mute notifications where necessary.  

Identify opportunities for personalization within our email messages. 

Test what the right daily push notification limit is. 

Send emails when a user has push notifications switched off.

Principle 6: Performance, stability and quality.

The stability and performance of our mobile apps have declined. There is a large backlog of production issues, with more bugs created than resolved over the last 300 days. If this continues, roughly one new unresolved production issue will be created every two days. Apps and backend systems that work well and don't crash are the foundation of a great Tumblr experience. Improving performance, stability, and quality will help us achieve sustainable operations for Tumblr.

Improve performance and stability: deliver crash-free, responsive, and fast-loading apps on Android, iOS, and web.

Improve quality: deliver the highest quality Tumblr experience to our users. 

Move faster: provide APIs and services to unblock core product initiatives and launch new features coming out of Labs.

Conclusion

Our mission has always been to empower the world’s creators. We are wholly committed to ensuring Tumblr evolves in a way that supports our current users while improving areas that attract new creators, artists, and users. You deserve a digital home that works for you. You deserve the best tools and features to connect with your communities on a platform that prioritizes the easy discoverability of high-quality content. This is an invigorating time for Tumblr, and we couldn’t be more excited about our current strategy.

[shinzusdoodles]

'Numb little bug'

Words: 3243 Warnings: self harm, mentions of abuse and drugs, suicidal ideation

There's probably typos but if I kept working on this my brain would become mushy. Formatting sucks ass cause I'm not fighting Tumblr mobile sorry.

---

As guards started hearing the news about the death of Aeloz Smith, the prison became eerily quiet, unsettling Mageil. The residential areas were often quiet especially at night, but nobody dared to speak a word after Aeloz's own son killed him in the middle of the cafeteria during lunch rush.

It had come as a shock even to the one person who'd known Tyru best, the chief warden Jake, who was now locked away in his office with the rest of the wardens and their superiors as they discussed how to handle this.

Before leaving, Jake had said, "I won't let them imrpison him. They won't want to anyway. I just need to negotiate on his punishment."

His face had been sullen, disappointed.

Mageil remembered how delicately Jake explained Tyru's situation to him; cursed to live a life of immortality, given when he was barely a teenager, born to serve the prison under a blood bound contract with their god Keypi. It had been in place for 2000 years, he'd said with a soft, sympathetic voice, and the only way to die was to pass it onto their child.

Since Mageil had stepped foot into the prison officially sworn in as an apprentice, he'd been trying to befriend all of those who would soon be his coworkers. But Tyru rarely spoke to him, and if he did, he'd tell Mageil to fuck off back to his prissy little mansion where his family lived in Province 12. Mageil kept trying, and trying, to do anything that could break that hard shell of his, but truth of the matter was that Tyru did not trust people. He spent his meals alone, his training alone, did all his lessons alone or silently in the back of class.

He didn't even learn Tyru was a host until he'd snapped, and that was the same moment everyone else found out.

And then he disappeared. It had been three days now. Nobody else tried, or even bothered, to find him, and he never showed up.

Mageil had a bad feeling about it though. His symbiont, a three headed dragon, whispered to him that maybe Tyru had finally found a way to do. The head he'd dubbed anxiety, who exuded worry and fear, suggested that he went off to find someone else to kill. He didn't like that disgusting feeling it gave him, anxiety for no reason, and he scoffed.

"That's stupid," he said out loud, ignoring the looks from passersby. "You were a war general, don't play these baby games with me. Besides, he'd never killed anyone before this. I asked Jake."

'That you know of.' All three heads laughed in his mind, rattling his skull.

"Shut the fuck up. I'm going to go find him."

He slammed his meal tray down and left the table.

Most of the guards, upon seeing Mageil's enormous and terrifying dragon form sprinting down the hall, jumped out of the way.

He maneuvered through the maze of hallways in the dorms, glancing in every open room he could. Most were vacant. Even Tyru's assigned room was empty, which he expected, but had hoped to be wrong.

It was unlikely he left the prison at all, so Mageil kept his eyes and ears open. And though it hurt his head, he was able to sort of see through the eyes of all three dragon heads, and commanded that ability at will. His dragon complained about it, but with careful listening the head situated to the far left just barely picked up the sound of sniffling.

---

His hands trembled.

He stood in a pool of his own blood. The blood never stopped flowing from gashes on his arms.

He could not die.

He could not hear the voice of his symbiont. The poor sweet creature who he blocked out with a sedative he'd stolen from his father would have retreated to the farthest corner of his mind.

Domestic dragons watched him from the storage shelves. Some hung in the rafters the chefs used to hang garlic and dried meats. They gave him curious trills, none willing to approach the grizzly scene.

Tyru could only replay the terrible memories in his mind-- Aeloz giving him the cold shoulder since before he could recall. Food being withheld for threatening to report him. The arguments. Brutal trainings that lasted hours with little to no break. Getting called weak. Being backhanded and cursed out for talking out of turn, or at all, really.

The dozens of ways Aeloz found to blame Tyru for his mother's death.

How Tyru's hand wrapped around Aeloz's neck as he pulled out the knife he'd been stashing away for that very moment. Aeloz's eyes were full of fear and then relief- as if he'd been waiting to die this entire time.

Aeloz never fought back.

He dropped to his knees, gripping the handle of his knife tight.

Aeloz was gone, whisked away by an undertaker. He'd planned this for months. He felt no relief though.

What was going to happen to him?

He couldn't die.

He was forced to serve the prison because of his ancestor's mistake.

The first Aeloz. The first host to ever exist and cause the barrier to the soul pool to break.

Aeloz, a cursed name.

Tyru's breaths came short and shallow. Tears rolled down his face. But still he bared his fangs in anger and fear.

He stabbed right through his midsection, gasping in pain. His body shook and his vision swam but no matter how hard he tried to die it wouldn't work.

Death would be better than any punishment the prison and government could possibly think up for him.

/But he could not die./

Yanking the knife back out, Tyru leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the cool storage room floor. It was coated in blood from three days of this... /breakdown/.

What kind of prison warden would he be if he freaked out at the first death be ever caused?

He stabbed his middle again, for good measure he guessed, leaving the knife sticking out of himself as he curled up further.

The dragons frills stiffened and they prepped their wings for flight. Tyru's eyes snapped open; turning too fast to see who was at the door made his vision fuzzier and his stomach lurched.

He kneeled back over, propping himself up with his hand.

"The fuck do you want, /prince/." His words slurred as he became weaker. He wouldn't die, but he still felt the blood loss, especially when he yanked the knife out with dreadfully shaky hands.

Mageil stood in the doorway, a wide, shocked expression on his face.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked.

Tyru didn't have an answer. He got to his feet, wobbly, and tried to throw the knife at Mageil, who merely stepped to the side to avoid it.

The dragons above them trilled louder, some even jumping down to stand intimidatingly next to Tyru. They were a few feet taller than him, with more fangs and sharper claws than he could ever dream of, and in a split second decision he told them to stand down. They were the closest to friends he'd ever had in this god forsaken prison but this wasn't their issue to fight.

Mageil, stupid sickly little prince Mageil, didn't move, his glowing yellow eyes staring straight through Tyru.

Tyru gripped his midsection as more blood seeped into his shirt. His knee gave out, and if it wasn't for the dragon that hurriedly caught him, he thought he'd be face down on the ground.

"Tell me why you're doing this," Mageil said again, "if you can't even die."

"You're not supposed to fucking know that!"

Mageil took a step toward him. A dragon raised its wings. "I want to be friends with everyone I'm supposed to work with. I was concerned about you so I asked why you're like that."

"Like /what/."

"You don't talk to people, you sit alone all the time, nobody even knew you were a host until three days ago."

"Cause that's not their business," Tyru spat.

His bloody nails tried to find a grip on the smooth scales of the dragon to no avail. His other leg started to give out, his vision blurry, and he bit his tongue so as to not vocalize the whine in his throat.

For some reason, the dragons didn't move as Mageil approached. He reached down to roughly grab Tyru by his wrists and yank him up, lifting him a good foot off the ground due to their height difference. Tyru cried out as the gashes on his arms got scraped and agitated by Mageil's claws.

Tyru started kicking Mageil but that stupid man was built like a brick wall. His kicks bounced off of him like a ball of paper. The two foot height difference and build didn't help.

"Just fucking let me go!"

"Answer my gods damned question."

Tyru started twisting his body despite the pain in his arms. He tried to twist enough to slap Mageil in the face with his wing. "Like you'd ever understand wanting to just die! Let me go!"

"You think I don't /know/?" Mageil asked, unbelievable laughter slipping into his voice. "Maybe you'd know if you bothered talking to people!"

"I. Wasn't. Allowed. To." Tyru bared his teeth and kicked again.

Mageil's face fell. "What?"

"You fucking heard me."

He could barely get the words out. His head rung, his arms going numb. He was starting to slip from Mageil's grasp from the blood coating his arms. Whatever strength he'd had left to hold his head up dissipated and his head fell forward.

Mageil lowered him gingerly onto the ground against the cool scales of a dragon. Tyru wasn't unconscious yet, but couldn't keep his eyes open, and could only feel that Mageil was moving his arms around, checking the gashes on his arms and stomach.

Not to mention the scratches he'd dug into his own face with his claws. Mageil's stupid soft fingers brushed over them, making him hiss.

"Just leave me alone," Tyru muttered, barely above a whisper. "I'm not gonna die. I'll just wake up when the skin heals and blood replenishes and move on."

"...you've done this before?"

Tyru stayed quiet. He just didn't have the energy to talk anymore.

He felt himself get jostled around, picked up behind his back and knees as if he weighed nothing. He whined.

"They're gonna put me in my family's own prison," he slurred.

"Jake's making sure they don't. He doesn't think they will so he's looking for alternatives to deal with it. Talk to me if you can."

Alternatives? His heart beat faster.

"Don't have anything to say..."

Mageil hummed. Tyru could feel Mageil's arms trembling.

A young man pampered and spoiled growing up. He wasn't used to seeing someone act like this, let alone blood probably, is all Tyru could think.

"All anyone knows of me is that I was the sick prince," Mageil says absentmindedly. Tyru groaned. "But they never saw that behind the scenes I never saw my parents. My father divorced my mother for giving him a sickly child and I didn't even meet my father until I was almost six. I was taken care of by a hired nanny. I was sick because they didn't know I was a poison host at first and the doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong. When my father remarried, my step mother was cruel to me. My half brother was cruel to me. They only started talking to me when my rare symbiont manifested."

"Spare me the exposition."

"You won't talk so I will."

"Motherfucker just shut up."

"Mm...I don't think I will. You insist I don't know what it's like to want to die when I very much do."

"Shut up," Tyru whined.

He didn't get to hear anything else Mageil said. Exhaustion clawed at him and he drifted into unconsciousness.

---

"He'll be fine," the doctor, Azel, said as he walked out from a back room, having just spent the better part of an hour fixing up Tyru. He tossed his gloves into a trash nearby and sat down heavily at his desk, holding his head in one hand. He looked at the notes Mageil had written for him. "I can't discuss private information. All I can really say is that it will take a day or two for him to wake up, if you want to come visit him."

Mageil's face fell. "I don't think he'd want me to."

"Jake already gave the order that he's to be put on leave for an undisclosed amount of time." Azel sighed. His black jaguar ears flicked. "Once he's able to stand on his own and get the stitches removed, he won't he back for a long time."

"Can I visit him now?" Mageil asked.

Azel was quiet at first. "Do you really want to?"

"I mean what I said," Mageil insisted, already standing up.

He walked past the silent doctor and went into the back rooms without permission, where some large rooms were sectioned off for injured guards being tended to and others were fully private. One door was propped open, the inside illuminated by a dim, warm lamp.

Tyru, one of the smallest people Mageil had ever met, looked dwarfed in the hospital bed made for people much larger than him. Unlike other patients Mageil had passed, he only had a single IV with no other medical devices attached. Pain meds, he guessed, because Tyru was right-- he wasn't going to die. Better to use most of the resources elsewhere, right?

He stood next to the bed, stoney faced and silent. Tyru looked peaceful, more so than Mageil had ever seen him, almost cherub-like with his round face and small proportions. He was pale and cold though, like a living corpse, breathing slow and shallow.

It took almost a week for Tyru to wake up. Mageil visited every day after his lessons until he walked in, just as surprised to see Tyru awake as he was to see someone walk in the door.

The color had returned to his face and the pain meds were gone. His blue eyes were bright and vibrant as they stared each other down. Thick, fresh bandages covered his arms up past his elbows. Bandaids stuck to three spots on his cheeks.

"Oh fuck me," Tyru snapped. He dropped his food onto his tray in protest. "You're like a rat that just won't go away!"

Mageil only smiled. "We're coworkers. You'll have to work with me until we retire. Or I die."

"Fuck," Tyru said under his breath.

---

The Smith family had lived in a large manor for generations now, but as they started to despise the curse more, they had less and less children. Tyru wasn't able to visit his home often until now, greeted by dust, cobwebs, and hundreds of packed up boxes full of memorabilia from generations past.

He didn't know why his father or his grandmother boxed it all up, but it was just him now to do with them as he pleased.

The last direct descendent of Aeloz the first who worked in the prison, all alone at home.

There was no trial as he expected. It wasn't often a warden was killed by someone in the prison itself and usually if one died the apprentice took over. But because of the situation, one of the on call wardens stepped in to fill the job as Tyru was put under a leave of absence.

His superiors asked a lot of questions. Namely about how he was treated, but he kept it short and sweet. They didn't say much about it, but since he was still here and not locked up, he decided not to complain.

They gave him stipulations though.

They didn't want a future warden like him, but since he was born to serve the prison, they let the local psychiatrist decide what to do with him.

1) no sharp objects without supervision

2) no alcohol

3) no recreational drugs or symbiont sedatives

4) monitored medications

Tyru hated it. But how could he possibly say no?

Multiple guards had come with him and spent the better part of a day unboxing everything and confiscating whatever they considered a sharp object. Aeloz's old stash of cheap alcohol was trashed. By the time they left almost everything was unpacked and not put in their correct places. He opted to just go to bed.

He wondered if, had he been born into a normal province under normal circumstances, he would've been left alone. He felt infantilized, like he'd never had a life under his superiors anyway, merely patted on the head like a dog for being unable to die. A curse that they salivated over, because it meant they could use him for whatever they wanted with little to no bad PR.

A few weeks into leave, Tyru found himself sitting at the kitchen table across from Mageil and Samantha, one of their other apprentice coworkers. The dim lamp above them barely lit up the kitchen and he had some easy snacks tossed into the center of the table.

He never had anyone visit before. They stayed for a few hours despite the awkwardness, and Samantha had brought him new coffee and snacks he couldn't get in town or in Scarlet City. Since she couldn't fly, she ended up heading back home earlier than Mageil, and Tyru suddenly felt...exposed under his stern gaze.

Tyru coughed. "What."

"How are you feeling?" Mageil asked. His voice was surprisingly soft and genuine.

The question he was dreading. "I'm fine. I'm not going to try and kill myself again right now if that's what you're asking."

"Right now?" Mageil whined hopelessly.

Tyru held his hands up in surrender. "I swear right now I'm fine." He held out his arms with the gnarly healing gashes and lifted his shirt to show him the stab wounds. Mageil made a face. "I'll be healed soon. They...have me on a lot of medications. Antibiotics n...shit, I guess. You know."

"You don't have to tell me. It's okay."

They fell into an awkward silence. Tyru never really talked this much before, and let his mind drift off to talk with his symbiont as he waited to see what else Mageil might say.

Nothing came.

Tyru suddenly became interested in picking at the edges of the scabbing on his arms and between his scales. Mageil puffed out his cheeks, exhaling slowly. He tapped his hands on the table surface.

"Do you want me to visit more often?" Mageil asked hesitantly. "I mean- I'll visit anyway but I want to hear you say yes."

"Why are you so fuckin obsessed with me?"

"I thought we could be friends. It's not...fair that Aeloz did that to you. It doesn't have to stay like that."

"You're not my therapist."

"Come on, man!"

Tyru clicked his tongue. "Fine. Not like I'm fucking doing anything anyway."

"Do you want me to bring anything from Scarlet City? I can hit it on my days off."

"I don't want anything." He wasn't allowed to really want anything. He stared blankly at Mageil. "Surprise me. If you want. Or something."

Mageil pushed his chair back and stood up, clasping his hands together. "I'll see you next week then alright?'

"I guess. Get out before you make me sappy you asshole."