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starry-bi-sky · 1 year

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Childhood Friends Danny and Jason

(cw underage smoking / smoking as a form of bonding) (cw Jason thinking Danny killed himself but its only for a moment) (cw depictions of murderous intent? Danny wants to murder the Joker and he's a little descriptive about it)

Now on ao3 :) (and with a response and a third one)

AND ALSO A REMASTERED VERSION THAT YOU SHOULD TOTALLY GO CHECK OUT BECAUSE I WORKED VERY HARD ON IT.

This is… aha. Massive. Word count check: 9k+

this has probably been done before but hey, everyone loves a good trope and I wanted to share my take on this idea. 👏👏 So, Danny Fenton and Jason Todd being childhood friends. The Fentons lived in Crime Alley for a good long while during Danny's childhood. Nobody wanted to fund their research and Jack and Maddie struggled to keep any form of work for a multitude of reasons. Jack worked in construction due to his big build and Maddie had another job elsewhere.

Danny and Jason were friends during that time, really great friends. I'm not super solid on how they met yet but I do know it involves Danny committing petty crime and Jason deciding to jump in and help when he sees Danny struggling. Danny was distrustful (as all crime alley kids ought to be) but they eventually became thick as thieves, committing petty crime together.

While it's all too easy to make Danny the weaker one of the two with Jason protecting him, I actually really like the idea that they protected each other. Growing up (essentially) on the streets means Danny forcibly had to grow a backbone unless he wanted to get trampled all over. He is just as willing to scuffle with the bigger kids as Jason is, and he and Jason regularly fought each other whenever they needed to let off steam, or just because. They were a duo, having each other's backs in tough situations.

(Sometimes the pair of them would sneak out at night and try and get a glimpse of Batman and Robin while they soared through the air. It was like a game between the two of them to see who could spot the dynamic duo first. When they were a little older, Jason would steal his dad's cigarettes and share them with Danny while they searched for Batman and Robin)

So when Danny has to move away when they're eleven years old, it's pretty safe to say that Jason didn't speak to him for a week afterwards. Nothing Danny did could persuade him to otherwise, even when Danny insisted that it wasn't his fault and that he didn't want to move away either, but he didn't have a choice in the matter.

When the week was over, Jason climbed through Danny's window and sat in his room, dead silent and looking upset. he didn't speak until Danny fished out a stolen pack of cigarettes from his bed and handed one to Jason.

(It was a ritual they had where if one of them was upset about something but wasn't saying anything, the other one could then hand them a cigarette -- whether it be the one they were using or a new one -- and that would be an open invitation for the person to vent. The other one who handed him the cigarette wouldn't speak until the venter handed back the cigarette. Then back and forth it would go until the cigarette was gone.)

Jason ranted about how pissed he was about Danny moving, and they promised to try and stay in touch after he leaves. Neither of them had phones, but Danny was determined to send him a letters.

Danny moves to Amity Park and it's... an adjustment, that's for sure. He's angry, grumpy, upset, and every other negative feeling under the sun. He was going to a new middle school with new people he didn't know, away from all of the people he did know and away from his best friend.

(He does however keep his word about sending letters, and mails one out to Jason at the first opportunity.)

He refuses to get along with anyone, butts heads with the teachers, is combative, rude, and openly smokes in class -- which gets him plenty of detentions and a bad reputation. He speaks in a thick Gotham street accent and wears hand-me-down clothes that are too big and baggy on him. (His parents have yet to replace any of their wardrobes as they settle into their new life, and Danny is hesitant to spend the money to get new clothes.)

He only manages to befriend Sam and Tucker because one of the football kids was bullying Tucker and Danny stepped in. It was some blond jerk named Dash and when Dash threw the first punch, Danny broke his nose. Tucker found him later that day and reluctantly thanked him for his help.

Sam and Danny do not get along for the longest time. Sam questions Danny about his upbringing, his accent, his smoking. She judges him for talking back to the teachers despite doing it herself and for ruining his lungs with cigarettes. Danny tells her to fuck off, and when she tries to judge him and Tucker for not being vegetarian, he calls her a privileged brat.

Sam doesn't even look at him for two weeks after, and Danny refuses to apologize. Tucker is caught between a rock and a hard place as his old friend and new friend are feuding with each other.

They... sort it out eventually.

Danny and Jason send each other letters near religiously. Danny complains about Amity Park, and Jason complains about how Crime Alley isn't the same without him. Danny talks about the school and what he's learned, about Sam and Tucker, and how he's been getting into the astronomy books in the library. He steals Jason a book and sends it to him.

When Jason tells Danny that he was adopted by Bruce Wayne, Danny calls bullshit. There's no fucking way Bruce Wayne would even look at Crime Alley, regardless of his charity efforts towards it. But when he checks Gotham news later that week, he's hit in the face with every single news article announcing Bruce Wayne's newest ward; Jason Todd.

Cue freaking out. Jason talks all about living in Wayne Manor and what it's like there. He says that there's a monster library in a part of the house that Bruce says he has free reign over, and that Jason can have anything to eat as long as he asks Alfred to make it and it isn't a desert, and that he has his own monster-sized room that he got to pick out himself and decorate.

(When they both get phones, the first thing either of them do is add each other's numbers.)

When Sam complains about having to go to a Wayne Gala that her parents are dragging her to one weekend, the first thing Danny asks is if he can go with. It surprises Sam and Tucker; Danny was the last person they would have thought wanted to go with. HE hates the rich even more than Sam does. Danny stands firm in his decision, and refuses to elaborate.

"Besides." He says to Sam, with whom he's begun to get along with via 'the enemy of my enemy is a friend'. "Would you rather go alone or with someone you can tolerate?"

She brings him with and convinces her parents to allow Danny to come along, citing that she'll be on her best behavior if they do. They agree, and buy Danny a suit when he says that he doesn't have one of his own.

(He discovers that he hates wearing suit jackets and ties, but vests he doesn't mind. He doesn't like that he has to comb his hair back, but he does to make Sam's parents happy. They give him a crash course in etiquette that Danny's going to forget the next day, and soon enough off they go in a private jet to Gotham)

(he does not tell Jason he's coming.)

he feels mischievous and nervous as they touch down, his stomach swirling as Sam's parents usher them to a high-profile hotel that Danny's only ever dreamed about going into. He feels largely out of place as they walk through the lobby, and falls back on old habits: square shoulders, set jaw, make yourself look like the biggest person in the room.

They get ready in the hotel room, Sam's parents primp and preen for the night incoming, and Sam is dragged into it by her mother. Danny does only what's required of him, and fiddles with the sleeves of his fresh-ironed button-down that's been tailored to his body. He's itching for a cigarette, and didn't bring any with.

Sam's dad helps him with his tie, a bout of kindness that Danny doesn't think is one. Just obligation to prevent Danny from looking like a mess. Sam pesters him again about wanting to come, and his reasons for it, and Danny keeps mum.

He's stone-faced with anxiety as they get closer to the gala, and before they leave the limousine the Mansons rented Sam links arms with him. A form of solidarity that Danny needs as he squeezes their arms together and smiles weakly at her.

The paparazzi are loud, bright, and demanding, shouting questions over questions at them like overlapping tidal waves. Danny ignores them all and focuses on the front doors instead. Sam's parents whisper at the stairs that they are to greet the Waynes first, and Danny's heart leaps to his throat.

His heart is in his ears as they drift closer, Mister Wayne is preoccupied with another rich couple, smiling that charming billionaire smile that Danny saw on every billboard in Gotham, and then some in Amity Park. Getting so close to him feels unreal.

And there by his side is the one and only Jason Todd, who isn't even trying to hide the bored look on his face as he watches Bruce interact with the other adults. He's gotten taller in the year they've been away, and healthier. His hair looks like its been cut professionally and he doesn't look as street kid skinny.

Danny's arm, hooked with Sam's, tightens up, and he resists the urge to rush forward and hug Jason. He watches Jason's eyes sweep left, away from him, and then right, towards him. The air stills for a moment as their eyes lock.

Danny grins toothily at him, lopsided and playful in nature, and sees the moment Jason processes the sight before him. His arm starts slipping out of Sam's at the same time as an ecstatic smile stretches across Jason's face.

His lopsided grin fills out on the other end. "DANNY!" Jason yells, cutting off whatever Bruce Wayne and startling everyone within earshot. There's barely a moment for Bruce to look down when Jason shoves past him and runs at Danny.

Danny yanks his arm out of Sam's, "JASON!" He yells with just as much enthusiasm, and Jason nearly topples them right over when he collides with Danny. His arms wrap around Danny's shoulders, holding onto him tightly, and they're both laughing, spinning around like tops out of joy.

"You didn't tell me you were coming!" Jason cries, sounding accusing. Danny hugs him just as tightly, and laughs when Jason pulls away momentarily to punch his shoulder.

"I wanted it to be a surprise!" He defends, laughing between words as their spinning comes to a stop. They're both reluctant to pull apart, but they do and clutch the sleeves of their elbows tightly. "How could my best friend be adopted by the Bruce Wayne and have me not come confirm it with my own two eyes?"

"I sent you newspaper clippings!" Jason says, narrowing his eyes while his smile betrays his face. Danny quietly notices that his Gotham street accent is faded slightly.

"Oh that's what it was?" Danny's grin turns again, edging into a smirk. He feigns innocence, "I thought that was fire kindling." He has the newspaper clippings hung on the corkboard in his room, proud beyond words about his best friend.

Jason punches him in the shoulder again, hard enough to leave a bruise. "You jackass." He says, ignoring Danny's laughter even when he's holding back his own.

There's a soft, sharp clearing of someone's throat, breaking their attentions away from each other to the one that made the noise.

Bruce Wayne was a tall man, taller than Danny expected, and he looks exactly like his billboards. If less promiscuous than his perfume ads. Danny expects him to be upset with them both for disrupting his pretty rich gala, but instead he just looks gently amused, with an arched eyebrow. Overall though, he just looks fond.

Danny would be the first to admit that Bruce had taken in Jason as a charity case, something to fill the void after his other kid Dick Grayson finally moved out. But Danny’s a good judge of character — or he likes to assume he is — and those are not the eyes of a man who would take Jason in as a charity case. Those are the eyes of a man who actually, genuinely, cares about one Jason Todd.

The wriggly protective thing settles in his chest.

He doesn’t let go of Jason, but he does twist his smile into something a little more polite. Mister Wayne’s eyebrow arches higher, and he turns his blue-blue eyes onto Jason. “Who’s this, Jason?” He has that fancy Gotham Elite accent -- something that sounds like a mix between old transatlantic and faintly British -- that Danny's only heard in passing when he and Jason snuck up to the nicer parts of Gotham.

Jason stares at Mister Wayne, his grip on Danny tightens as his eyes flick to the other onlookers in the room. “This is Danny, B.” He says once his eyes turn back to Mister Wayne. “We grew up in Crime Alley together, he moved to Illinois last year."

Danny can see the uncomfortable expressions cross every rich person's face, murmurs sweeping across the room as soon their uncomfortable gazes turned judgmental and flinty. He's kept track of the tabloids after Jason's adoption, the ones calling him a charity case and looking down on him for being a street kid.

He inches a little closer to Jason, straightening up instinctively, as if they were back in Crime Alley and facing a pack of kids that didn't like them. He can see Sam's surprised expression from the corner of his eye -- he never told Tucker or Sam about where he grew up, although he's sure they had their suspicions.

He looks back to Mister Wayne and meets his blue-blue eyes, his smile has slowly begun to fade. Mister Wayne doesn't miss a beat however, and his smile stays plastered to his face. If anything, it gets a little softer, a little wider. "It's nice to meet you Danny -- Daniel? I'm so glad that Jason has a friend here." He holds out a hand.

Danny eyes him unsurely, and then takes his hand. "It's jus' Danny, Mister Wayne." He says, some of his old accent slipping through as he shook his hand firmly. He would have done it harder, but this was Jason's new guardian, and from Jason's letters he didn't sound too bad. "It's, uh, nice to meet you too. Jason's told me lots about you."

Mister Wayne's brows jump momentarily, he looks intrigued. He looks between Danny and Jason, and claps his hands together softly. "Well, Jay, how would you like to stay with Danny for a while, hm? I'm sure you too have a lot to catch up on."

Hope simmers in Danny's heart, and he glances to Jason to see that same hope on his face. "Really?" He asks, and Mister Wayne nods with a laugh.

"Of course! How could I keep two friends apart? Go on ahead, chum. I'll come get you when the gala ends."

And just like that, Bruce Wayne leaves Jason with Danny, diving back into a conversation with one of the rich gothamites and taking the attention with it as if he were the sun and everyone else a planet orbiting him.

Danny and Jason share grins, and throw their arms around each other with laughter. Danny is on cloud nine, pressing his nose into Jason's shoulder and breathing him in, fingers digging into the back of his suit hard enough to leave wrinkles in his jacket.

Sam demands answers when they finally, for real this time, pull apart. Why didn't he tell her that he was friends with Jason Todd!? Danny slings his arm around Jason's shoulders and keeps him close, and tells her that it was because he wanted it to be a surprise.

Sam's parents have unreadable expressions on their faces, part greed -- Danny is their in to the elusive Bruce Wayne -- and part disdain -- a Gotham street rat. Danny ignores them, they're unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

He introduces Sam to Jason, and Jason to Sam. And off they go to a corner of the room near the buffet table where they can eat and shit talk everyone else in the room in peace.

At some point in the night Sam is called back to her parents to meet some other fancy rich kids her parents want her to get along with, and Danny and Jason go off to the west end balcony to avoid anyone who may try and approach the new Gotham ward.

Danny hops up onto the balcony railing, kicking his feet as Jason pulls a cigarette pack out of his inner jacket pocket, and grins. "Don't tell Bruce," he says, handing the box to Danny first. "He's been trying to get me to quit."

"Hah!" Danny takes one just as Jason slips out a lighter. "That sounds like Jazz. She's been trying to get me to stop since we moved to Amity." Granted, she's been trying ever since she found out before they moved, but now she was even more insistent. "She hasn't found my stash yet."

At the end of the night when the Mansons are leaving and Danny has to leave with them, he walks back to Mister Wayne with Jason to tell him that he's leaving. Mister Wayne mourns his going, and tells him that he's always able to come visit.

"Any friend of Jason's is always welcome to the manor." He says with a blinding grin, pulling Jason close to his side and squeezing him tight. Jason's nose scrunches up, but he doesn't push away.

It becomes a new routine for them. The Mansons are all too happy to bring him with to the Wayne Galas (of which they start receiving more invites to due to their connection with Danny) and Danny is all too happy to spend the evening with Jason again. No matter what, they always end up on the balcony at some point in the night.

And, eventually, Danny is invited to stay at Wayne Manor either for a weekend or for a break. He jumps at the chance when winter break rolls around and his parents start their debate over Santa Claus again.

Danny and Jason stay up late into the night talking or playing video games during their sleepovers, and in the warmer nights they climb out and onto the roof to stargaze. Danny points out constellations - - things he can find in neither Gotham or Amity -- and rambles on and on about space.

There are plenty of times during the Wayne Galas that the event gets attacked by a rogue. More often than he'd like he loses Jason in the crowd, and has later stopped Robin or Batman in his panic to find him.

The first time it happened, he was in tears with terror. He grabbed onto Batman's cape, stopping the man from going back in as he babbled that his Jason Todd was still inside, that he disappeared during the chaos and he couldn't find him. Batman took his hands and calmly told him that he'd find Jason for him, and that he was sure he was okay, but he needed to calm down.

He found Jason later once everything had calmed down, and he screamed at him for disappearing during a rogue attack, if he ever did it again he'll kill him. Then he cried.

The second time it happened, Danny didn't even realize that Jason was gone until everything was already over. They'd been separated before the attack happened. He stopped Robin and Batman before they could leave, trying to keep his breathing under control as he asked again, if they had seen Jason Todd.

"That- that asshole keeps fucking ditching me when these things happen." His voice has an embarrassing wobble in it. "Please-- please tell me you've seen him, that he's alright."

Robin this time steps up to reassure him, that Jason Todd was out of the building. He got him out. "He's probably looking for you too, uhhh..."

"Danny" Danny says, and eyes him up and down. "You're the new Robin right?"

Robin stilled up, and Danny could understand it a little. He'd seen the thoughts on the new Robin online. He wasn't very popular at first. Robin nods curtly, and Batman was shuffled a little closer to him, almost protectively.

Danny grins at him. "Cool." He says, "Me and Jay used to sneak out onto the rooftops sometimes to try and spot Batman and the first Robin, we made it a game." He holds out a fistbump, "Thanks for doing what you do, man. I might not live in Gotham anymore, but I mean it. You're a living legend."

Robin looks like there's something stuck in his throat, and after a beat he returns the fistbump tentatively. "Th- uh, thanks." He stumbles out awkwardly, and then turns away, "Me and B- uh, better go."

Before Danny could even respond, Robin already had his grapple in hand and was grappling away. "You too, Batman." Danny says before Batman can follow.

When Danny sees Jason after that, and weight lifts off his chest and he hits him in the arm again. And then complains that he should have gotten Batman and Robin's autograph, it would have been epic.

By the fifth time it happens, Danny is cussing up a storm when Robin saves him, cursing out Jason and claiming that he needs to put that boy on a fucking leash. "We're a duo!" He scowls when Robin gets him outside, "I got his back, he has mine! I can't have his back when he's got no back to fucking have."

The eighth time it happens, Danny gets held hostage by one of the henchmen. He's become a recognizable friend of the Waynes, and when the Waynes are nowhere to be found, then the next best thing was up to offer. Danny isn't even mad this time around -- just relieved that Jason was fucking off somewhere where he couldn't get hurt.

Robin, however, seemed furious when he arrived, and broke the hostager's jaw with a single flying kick to the face. Jason found him rapidly quick soon after the situation had settled, and apologized over and over again.

Danny slings an arm around his shoulder and laughs that it was fine, Robin saved the day! His legs were shaking with the worn off adrenaline, something he tried to hide from Jason. "I'm just glad it was me instead of you, Jay." He grins. Jason looks like he swallowed a toad.

Jason stops disappearing as often after that, sticking close to Danny's side until the attack was over.

When Danny is fourteen, Jason dies, and his world unravels.

He calls the manor on a late night in April after Jason had stopped responding to his texts. Danny knew that Jason was just recently in a fight with Bruce, but he knows that Bruce loves Jason. He would know where he is, right?

When he calls, Bruce answers with a hoarse "hello?" as if he'd been crying all day, and Danny's blood turns to ice. The anxiety he'd been feeling beforehand doubles in size, and he feels himself stammering.

"Mister- uh- Mister Wayne? Um, I'm calling because Jason--" he hears Bruce inhale sharply on the other line, and his anxiety skyrockets into fear. "--hasn't been answering any of my texts and- and I'm gettin' real worried."

There's silence on the other end, and Danny feels a rock forming in his throat, gross and heavy like he was on the verge of throwing up. "Mister- Bruce? Mister B?"

There's a shaky breath, and then Bruce's voice crackles through the phone. "Um-- Jason, he, he's--" there's a sound like rustling, "he's been killed."

Danny's vision whites out with skyrocketing terror, his mind skidding to a stop. His body rapidly grows hot, and then chills, like a blacksmith striking a heated weapon. "What?"

When the phone call ends, Danny screams himself hoarse. Jazz and his parents come running into his room, his parents equipped with ghost weapons. Instead, they find Danny curled up in his bed, sobbing hoarsely.

Danny almost -- almost -- refuses to attend the funeral, nearly paralyzed with grief. Jazz coaxes him to go, to find closure if anything else, and he drags himself out of bed to go.

He feels numb the entire time. It's closed casket, so he can't even see him for one last time before Jason is buried in the ground. He's silent, and if he think he looks bad, then Bruce looks even worse, like he hadn't slept since Jason died and worse.

Danny grabs his sleeve before he leaves, and when Bruce turns to him with a dull look in his once vibrant eyes, he clings to him tightly. And cries. Bruce clings back just as tight, Danny feels tears drip into his hair.

"Who did it." Danny whispers, voice too hurt to speak any louder, when he pulls back. His fingers curl around Bruce's jacket tightly, desperately. His eyes hurt with tears. "You said he was murdered, B. Please, who did it."

Bruce looks down at him, and for the first time it really does feel like he's looking down at him. His face is blank, and his eyes close in grief. There is no answer, a silent no.

Danny's face twists up all ugly like, and he shakes Bruce's jacket. "Bruce, please. Tell me who did it."

Bruce refuses, his face full of grief.

Danny never returns to Gotham.

Prior to Jason's death and post their reunion, Danny had slowly begun to improve in school. He started caring more, he was putting in more effort, he was doing his homework and was actually enjoying class. There was the bullying from Dash and the A-Listers, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle, he was ignoring them for the most part.

Come Monday after the funeral, and Danny breaks Dash's nose when he starts up with his shit. He withdrew into himself, and it was like he was back to square one again, except this time it was much worse.

Everyone knew Danny was close friends with Jason Todd. So when news of his death finally reached the ears of Amity Park, the students of Casper High School kept their distance.

That following Friday, Danny dies in the portal and comes back. A month later he becomes Phantom, the ghost-fighting ghost. the ghost Phantom wears his hazmat suit partially undone, showing a tanktop he didn't wear in death under the initial suit while the sleeves are tied around his waist. Vicious, glowing lichtenburg scars travel up his arm and neck and torso, covering half of his face while a pair of scientist-like goggles covers his eyes. He's bitter and angry, showing off his death.

Look at me, Phantom's form says, I am a dead child. Look at me look at me look at me. Mourn me. I am a dead child. LOOK AT ME. MOURN ME.

A few weeks later he enters the ghost zone and realizes that he could find Jason. And he spends a weekend scouring the ghost zone for him. He finds Gotham in the zone, and rather than finding Jason, he finds Robin.

Danny didn't know he'd died. And he flies towards him, asks him if he's seen Jason, reveals that it's him, Danny Fenton. Robin stares at him, mouth agape, and peels off his mask to reveal Jason Todd.

They both cry, and when Danny tells him how he died, Jason looks pale in the face. "You didn't- you didn't kill yourself because of me, did you?"

Danny fervently denies it. No, no. He didn't, he didn't. It was an accident. Totally unrelated. But enough about that, what the hell happened? Bruce wouldn't tell him anything at the funeral.

Jason clams up, his ghostly face losing its color, and Danny curses himself. He tells Jason that he doesn't have to tell him, he doesn't have to say anything. They sit in silence.

"It was the Joker." Jason says.

That's all Danny needs to know. He nods quietly. 'I'll kill him.' He thinks to himself, a stubborn set in his jaw. "Okay."

It had always been a plan; a thought wriggling in the back of Danny's mind ever since Bruce told him that Jason had been killed.

Not died. Killed.

Danny wanted the fucker dead the moment he realized it. He just needed to know who did it. He thinks Bruce knew it too, could probably see it in his eyes the moment Danny asked him who did it. He isn't sure if he should hate Bruce more for keeping it from him now.

They spend hours together, just soaking in each other's presence. Danny tries to take him through the ghost portal, to bring him back to the land of the living. But much like Kitty, Jason's form is tied to the zone. Danny promises to visit every day.

And he does. Or he tries to. The grief doesn't go away, but with the comfort of knowing that Jason was on the other side, Danny feels a little better. He tells Jason about being Phantom, and Jason helps train him. It feels like they're kids again and are fighting just because they want to. Its a bout of familiarity in a place that feels unfamiliar. All they need are cigarettes.

And then six months later he loses him again. Danny scours the ghost zone for him for the second time, and this time he doesn't find him.

His haunt is still in the zone though. He didn't move on. He's still here, somewhere.

Danny is convinced that Jason was in the Elsewhereness, and looks for him in between ghost fights and his social life. He visits Jason's haunt every day, knowing that Jason should be able to feel when another ghost enters his home. He does not show up.

(He never thinks that Jason came back to life, and Jason doesn't remember his time in the ghost zone)

When Danny is nineteen, Vlad Masters blackmails him into going to another Wayne Gala. Begrudgingly, Danny goes. He's taller than he used to be, having inherited his dad's monstrous height and his mom's leanness. He has piercings, some of them he got after a lost bet from Sam and Tucker, and he's given himself an undercut.

He still prefers vests over suit jackets, and he still smokes. A little less than before, he sneaks a pack into his pocket before he leaves, along with a lighter. Vlad gives him a dirty look the whole time - he knows.

"Don't give me that look." "That stuff kills, you know" "I'm already dead."

It's like deja vu when he arrives; an awful bout of deja vu, that is. The paparazzi is still as bright and loud and annoying as it always was, and they don't recognize him at all. Something he thinks of as a soft mercy up until one of the reporters asks Vlad who he is.

Vlad smiles and tugs Danny into the camera frame, "Why, this is my godson!" He crows, and shoots Danny a look that is downright smug I'm sure many of you may know him as Daniel Fenton?"

If looks could kill, Vlad would be ash. Danny isn't quite sure why he still agreed to this -- blackmail or no. He felt itchy being in Gotham; jumpy. He's never forgotten his vow to kill the Joker, in fact it was something he still desperately wants.

But the threat of Rath, the name he chose for his evil future self, haunts him just as much as his murderous intent. If he kills the Joker, would he stop?

Danny's almost afraid of what he'll do if he ever lays eyes on the Joker in person. He doesn't think he'll be able to stop himself from wrapping his hands around that stupid clown's neck and watching the light leave his eyes.

He pushes the thoughts to the side, and smiles lopsidedly as cameras and microphones flood his face, reporters yelling over themselves as they clamor to get a shot of the old Wayne family friend.

Danny turns and walks inside without answering a single question, flexing his fingers in and out of fists. Vlad gracefully hurries after him, and Danny can hear his glare burning into his back.

"You told me to come," Danny hisses to him once he's beside him, meeting Vlad's gaze piercingly, "not that I should play nice."

"Don't embarrass me, Daniel." Vlad hisses back, trying to look the upmost calm as eyes turn onto them. "I'll make you regret it."

"You embarrass yourself, fruitloop." Danny shoots back, walking away before Vlad could get a retort in. He sees Bruce Wayne on the other side of the room.

His heart seizes with nostalgia. He hasn't seen Bruce since Jason's funeral, hasn't spoken to him either. He doesn't know how to feel about him, but he'd been keeping tabs on Bruce both as himself and as Batman.

Danny's feet carry him forwards before he can think about it, silently weaving between the throng of rich people vying for his attention. It's only when he gets closer does he see the little shadow clinging to his side: Damian Wayne.

The newest little bird, Danny realizes, and stifles a smile at the surly expression on Damian's face as two older women coo over him. He reminded him of Sam, who had long since stopped coming to these things the moment she was able to.

The feeling of eyes on him turns Danny's attention away from Damian, and instead finds them back on Bruce's, who stares at him with a little furrow between his brows. As if he recognized him, but he wasn't sure from there.

Danny grins crookedly the moment he's within earshot. "Mister B!" He exclaims, slipping into what remained of his Gotham street accent. Recognition flashed in Bruce's eyes, and the man smiled widely. "Long time no see, old man."

"Danny," Bruce says, his name breathing out like relief. He slips between the crowd surrounding him -- who are now watching Danny -- and pulls Danny into a close hug. "It's good to see you again."

Danny hesitates for a moment -- he wasn't expecting Bruce to hug him -- and returns the gesture. "It's good to see you too, Bruce." He admits. Bruce was still using the same cologne that he did when Danny was a kid. He blinks heavily.

He pulls away quickly, clapping Bruce lightly on the shoulder as Damian quickly latches onto his father's side again. Damian glares daggers at him, fingers digging into Bruce's pantlegs like a possessive little kid.

He made Danny's ghost sense tingle in the back of his throat, creeping up slowly like a spider before stopping suddenly before it reached his mouth. It hummed, and then disappeared.

Danny smothered a frown. Since when did Batman work with ectoplasm? “This must be Damian." He says to Bruce, and holds out a hand to Damian -- he doesn't crouch, he had a feeling that Damian would be less than appreciative if he did that. "You've really expanded the nest since the last time I saw you."

Damian's eyes narrow at him. Bruce laughs lightly, "Ah yes, Tim is around here somewhere. I'm sure you'll see him soon."

"Father," Damian says, his voice layered with an accent. He glares up at Danny with piercing green eyes. "How do you know this man?" He sounds distrustful, Danny respects that and drops his hand.

"This is Danny Fenton." Bruce says, and Danny lets him introduce him. "He was Jason's friend."

An expression similar to bewilderment flashes briefly over Damian's face, and he eyes Danny in disbelief. "Todd had friends?"

Oh. So that's how he wanted to be. Bruce had a little elitist on his hands. Danny's smile drops like a deadweight, and any lingering endearment he had hardens like ice in his chest, fury slowly taking its place like a flickering candlelight. "It's not polite to speak ill of the dead, Mister Wayne." He says coldly, his voice made of chips of ice.

Damian blinks, the disbelief disappearing from his face. The closest thing to a recoil Danny thinks he's going to get. He doesn't care. No one speaks about his best friend that way.

"I grew up with Jason, actually." He continues, breathing in slow and deep, trying to keep the ghostly possessive-protective-rage under control. "I was his best friend."

He turns, almost robotically, towards Bruce, and tries not to look so angry. "I'm going to go find Tim, Mister B." He says, and tries to offer up a weak smile for the man. It comes out as a grimace instead.

"And..." he pauses, flicks his eyes towards Damian, and then looks at Bruce. "I'll... try and keep in contact, B. Tell Dick I said hi, alright? I'll see you in a little bit."

Bruce nods, looking vaguely disappointed and sighing slow through his nose. Danny walks away as Bruce turns to address his youngest, and doesn't bother listening in on what he has to say.

He does, eventually, find Tim Drake. He spots him in a crowd instantly - it's hard not to, and he makes his way over to him. He's not sure Tim Drake would recognize him, Bruce didn't at first and Danny had been around him constantly.

Except Tim Drake does recognize him, much to Danny's surprise. They lock eyes and Tim immediately makes his way over to him. "Danny Fenton!" He says and stops in front of him, "What a surprise, we weren't expecting you tonight."

"Tim Drake," Danny replies, smiling a little as his earlier hurt begins to fade away. "I'm surprised you know me."

"There are pictures of you in the manor with Jason." Tim explains, stuffing his hands into his pockets with an easy-going smile. "It's hard not to know you."

"It’s hard not to know you too,” Danny retorts, a sly smile slowly spreading across his face. “Although you’re a lot taller than you used to be, when you were lurking around Bruce and Jason and I.”

Ohhh Danny recognizes him alright. One part due to all the news articles and tabloids on him after he was adopted by Bruce, and the other part because he remembers the little shadow lurking near plants pots and table legs that used to follow him and Jason around at galas just like these.

Knowing that Jason was Robin, he wonders if Jason knew he was there too.

The effect is immediate: Tim’s eyes grow comically large, and a red tint glows at the tip of his ears as he shrinks back like a turtle trying to hide into its shell. “You— you noticed that!?” He hisses.

“I did!” Danny grins, large and wide, stifling a laugh as the red tint spreads over Tim’s cheeks and nose. He looks mortified. Danny coos. “Aww, I thought it was adorable that Jason had a little shadow. I’m sure he would have loved you if you had just come over and said hi. He had a big soft spot for kids.”

Tim snorts and it— it almost sounds derisive? “Sure he would.” He looks sad, and the mirth in Danny’s chest shrivels up like a flower without light. The smile fades from his face, and all that’s left is a strange, staunch reminder that Danny and Bruce weren’t the only ones that probably mourned.

He touches Tim’s shoulder lightly, “Hey, I’m sorry.” He says, trying to look as apologetic as he feels. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I’m sorry, I miss him too.” Like a fucking limb he missed him.

There’s something that flickers in Tim’s eyes, passing through too fast for Danny to realize what it is. He assumes its gratefulness, because Tim relaxes a little and offers him a weak little smile. “I wish I had talked to him.”

Danny sees an out and takes it, he forces out a short laugh, grinning widely. “I can tell you all about him if you’d like,” he offers, “I told Mister B I’d keep in touch anyways. I’ve missed him and Alfred quite a lot in the last few years.”

“Not Dick?”

“That dipstick wasn’t around often enough for me to form any sort of emotional attachment to him.” Danny says in a half-complaining tone, placing his hands on his hips. “Although I did like his puns.”

Tim snickers, “I’ll tell him you said that then. Nobody likes his puns.”

“Go on ahead,” Danny grins, laughter swirling in his chest and making his core thrum with warmth. Damn, he’s missed this family. “I stand by my decision. Puns are funny.”

“Let’s get a photo then.” Tim says with a hand already fishing in his pocket for his phone. “He’ll be devastated to know that you were here and he didn’t get to see you.”

“Sure.” And Danny sidles on next to Tim, throwing an arm around his shoulders — and making a noise of surprise when his arm was able to fit comfortably — as if he was just resting it on a counter.

He totally forgot how tall he was compared to Tim. Forgot that he’d been looking down the entire time they’d been talking. “Why’d I get my dad’s height.” He complains, and bends his knees as Tim raises the phone with the front-facing camera on.

Tim snickers under his breath, and takes the picture while they’re both smiling wide. Danny immediately stands up, and peers over Tim’s shoulders to look at the picture.

It’s a good one, with the fringe of Danny’s curls falling slightly over his left eye and making the dimple on his right cheek more prominent. He could see the barely-there smattering of freckles he had across his nose, the ones that became more prominent when the sun was out. His smile was lopsided, Danny’s favorite kind of smile.

He whistles lowly, “That’s a good one,” he says aloud, and smiles impishly at Tim when he looks at him. “You should send that one, I look hot in it.”

Tim snorts, his ears reddening as he looks down at his phone. “Yeah sure, no problem.” He says quickly, and Danny looks away when he pulls up the messenger app. He’s never felt comfortable looking over people’s shoulders when they were on their phone.

“I’m gonna go take a smoke break.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and curls his fingers around the box and lighter inside. “I’ll—“

“Be on the west-end balcony.” Tim finishes, the red in his ears darkening as he glances up from his phone to smile embarrassedly. “I know.”

Danny snorts, “Okay.” His voice is thick with amusement. “Let me know how Dipstick reacts, alright?” He backs up slowly, awaiting Tim’s response. Tim merely waves a hand at him, a weak gesture of “yeah yeah” that makes Danny grin before he flips around and marches towards his favorite smoking balcony.

———————

(Tim pulls up the family group chat and loads the selfie into the text bar. His face feels warm with embarrassment even as his thumbs fly across the screen.

Tim: look who i found at the latest charity gala :) [image]

Hee awaits eagerly a response, and finds he doesn’t have to wait long. Dick’s thought bubble appears on screen, then Cass’s — of which it only exists for a moment before disappearing.

Dick: holy shit, is that who i think it is?

Tim responds quickly, and his message sends.

Tim: yep. He wanted me to tell you that he thinks your jokes are funny.

Dick: they are funny

Tim rolls his eyes and thinks for a moment, really thinks. He weighs his pros and cons. And then his fingers fly across the screen again.

Tim: hey Jason are you not gonna say anything?

There’s no response for all of thirty seconds — of which it stretches on to an uncomfortably long minute — and then Jason’s thought bubble appears.

Jason: what do i have to say to a bunch of idiots blowing up my phone in the middle of patrol?

Tim: harsh. do you recognize the guy in the photo?

Jason’s response is instant. Too fast for him to have actually looked at the photo itself. He’s just trying to spite Tim then. Tim doesn’t care, he has the upper hand here

Jason: no and I don’t care, i have patrol

Tim knows he didn’t look at the photo, and yet he can’t help stifle a shit-eating smile and feign innocence

Tim: really? You and Danny used to be so close, color me surprised

His teeth dig into his lower lip, he doesn’t need to in order to hide a smile. But it gives him something to do. Jason is worryingly silent for a long, long time, and Tim can almost imagine him staring long and hard at the selfie. Tim knows he will be later.

Finally, Jason’s text bubble shows up. It exists for a long time, before finally Tim’s phone buzzes with his message alert.

Jason: that’s danny?

Tim feels all too gleeful. Smugness swirling in his chest like kicked up sand as he types his response: yep! Apparently he showed up today, although I’m not sure with who since I don’t see Miss Manson around here.

Damian: Father says to get off your phone, Drake. We are at a Gala and your behavior is most unbecoming

Tim: can it demon spawn, I was just telling Jason that his friend Danny is here

Damian: He can’t be too important if he doesn’t even know Todd is alive

Tim: how would you know that?

Damian: When Father introduced him as Todd’s friend, I expressed my surprise that Todd even had friends, considering how unpleasant he can be. Fenton became quite cross with me after that and quickly excused himself thereafter

Dick: you said what!? Damian that’s not okay

Damian: Father made that quite clear after Fenton left in a huff. My mistake for thinking that Todd had told his ‘supposed best friend’ that he was alive.

Dick: he didn’t even tell us we were alive at first

Damian: He did eventually, didn’t he? Clearly Todd doesn’t seem to care too much about Fenton if he hasn’t even informed him of his being alive at this point.

Jason’s thought bubble quickly pops up, and then dissipates, then pops up again. Tim quickly pockets his phone before he can see Jason’s response. He doesn’t feel smug anymore, just uncomfortable.)

———————

Stepping out onto the west-end balcony feels like a blast from the past. A painful one at that. Danny’s fingers dig into his cigarette pack, and he pulls it out with a sense of bittersweet familiarity.

It feels like a lifetime ago that he once stood here with Jason. The package clunks dully as his fingers scrape against the side, and he fishes a cigarette out of the box before stuffing it back into his pocket.

“Quite the night isn’t it.” He says to nothing, to ghosts of the past, to himself. He turns and sits on the railing, sticking his legs out like a tripping hazard while Gotham’s hot city wind blows through the air.

He looks up and only sees the ugly pollution yellow sky looking down at him. It’s an unfamiliar feeling to him. He loves the stars and yet when faced with a smog that covers it, he feels more at home.

Danny’s fingers find the lighter, and with a few clicks a small open flame appears in existence. There’s a poem here, he can feel it. But he feels too tired to find it.

The cigarette lights, and the lighter dies in response. Returning back to his coffin-like pocket until he needs to use it again. He pulls a leg up, resting his chin on his knee with a heavy, tired sigh.

He soaks in the sounds around him. The ugly city warmth nips at his jaw. The music inside is muffled by the force of two glass doors and walls on all four sides, and Danny can hear late night traffic coming by on the road nearby. It’s a special kind of ambience you can only find on the west end balcony.

Half a decade ago, Danny had played a part with that ambience with Jason. Now it was just him, and Jason was nowhere to be found. It left a hopeless kind of feeling in his chest. An all-suffocating kind of fear that filled him head to toe with an intensity only ghosts could have.

His body winds up like a spring, and Danny holds his breath. When he exhales two minutes later, the spring stutters and jolts, and his body relaxes with a tremble.

He misses Jason. He misses Jason.

Ghosts are emotional creatures. They feel it from their crown to their soles. And emotional wounds never really heal. They scab over and fester, waiting to be picked at again and again so it can bleed as fresh as it did when it first opened.

Danny’s grief is never going to go away, he thinks. It’s clung to him like a parasite; shaped him and molded him. The wound was too close to him when he died, and now it will stay with him forever.

He opens his eyes when his ghost sense tingles, a heavy feeling in his throat that is neither nicotine nor grief. It’s just like Damian’s, but stronger. Potent. Older. It reaches the top of Danny’s throat and sits at the base of his tongue, like a hand about to suffocate him.

He looks up, cigarette hanging off his lips, and the Red Hood drops down beside him. He stands in the same spot Jason once did, and that alone makes the ghostly core in Danny seize possessively.

Don’t you dare stand where he stood, it hisses, coiling around his lungs like smog. Danny grits his teeth and feels his ghost sense evaporate. He pulls the cigarette out of his mouth, and nicotine smoke pours out like a cheap version of his ghost sense.

“Red Hood.” He says plainly, his free hand coiling and uncoiling like cat’s claws against the railing. “A surprise to see you here.”

Danny knows through process of elimination who most of the Gotham vigilantes are: Dick is Nightwing, Bruce is Batman, Tim is Red Robin, Damian is Robin, and Cass is Orphan. There are a few who he doesn’t know, however. Like Batgirl and Red Hood.

It’s fine, he doesn’t need to know. Danny of all people understands the importance of a secret identity.

Red Hood doesn’t say anything, just stares at him as if he’s a deer in headlights. His body all tensed up like he isn’t sure what to do now that he’s here in front of Danny. Like he wasn’t expecting Danny to be here at all.

Danny’s brows furrow. “Sorry, am I in your spot?” He asks, and begins to push off the railing. “I didn’t think vigilantes used the Wayne Hall west-end balcony, I can leave if you want.”

He’s already begun to move towards the door.

The Red Hood lurches in his spot, “No!” He yells, and Danny stops in place with raising eyebrows. Red Hood’s fingers cringe, and he straightens up.

He’s shorter than Danny, he notes. Which isn’t much of revelation. Everyone is shorter than Danny.

“No,” Red Hood repeats, sounding sturdier than before, “No. You’re fine. I’m just stopping here for a quick rest before resuming patrol.”

…Danny doesn’t question it. It’s none of his business about other vigilantes and their practices. He shrugs and breathes out more smoke, “Alright.” He says, and walks back over to the railing to sit on it. “I’m Danny, by the way.”

The Red Hood nods, and a silence falls over them. Danny doesn’t care enough to make it feel uncomfortable, but the Red Hood seems unsettled by something. Lost in thought. He leans his back against the railing similar to Danny, and then switches a few seconds later to a new pose.

He does it again, and again, and again. Until finally he flips over and leans his stomach against the railing, arms resting against it. It is starkly like what Jason used to do, and Danny stares at him long and hard.

He frowns. And says nothing.

When Danny’s cigarette is nothing more than a butt of nicotine, he crushes it in his hand and watches the ash flutter down to the ground. The heat stings his hand, but its nothing his ghostly healing can’t fix.

The Red Hood is already holding out another one when Danny’s hand drifts to his pocket for the box.

Danny stares at him, sudden wariness opening up like floodgates that sit at the bottom of his stomach.

His frown deepens, his eyes flicker up and down at Red Hood. His hands hover over his pocket. “I have my own.” He says, and watches subtly as the Red Hood hides a wilt. As if he’d been expecting Danny to take it.

“Alright.” The Red Hood says, trying to sound unbothered. He retracts the cigarette away from Danny, quiet all the way. He’s looking away.

Danny plucks the cigarette out of his hand, startling the Hood enough that Red snaps back to look at him. Danny yanks his lighter from his pocket. “I won’t say no to a free cigarette.” He says, slightly muffled with the stick between his teeth. It lights.

Silence falls over them again, and when one minute stretches into five, whatever hope that had been digging into the shoulders of Red Hood finally pulls away and leaves him slumping subtly.

‘A ciggie for your thoughts?’ Nine year old Jason Todd whispers one night with an impish grin, holding up a cigarette pinched between his two fingers. ‘I stole it from my old man. He won’t even notice its gone.’

Danny is halfway through it when he speaks. “The Joker killed my best friend.” He says, and watches from the corner of his eye as the Red Hood flinches. Is he startled by Danny speaking, or startled by the bluntness of him starting?

“He beat him to death.” Danny continues, staring stone-faced away from Red Hood. His grief claws up his lungs and burrows into his heart again. His fingers dig into the railing. “He beat my best friend to death.”

The Red Hood is silent, his body as still as the grave. Silence stretches out between them both, and like he’d been thinking, the Hood finally speaks: “How do you know?”

He’s not holding the cigarette, he broke his and Jason’s rule. Danny bounces the stick between his fingers. “His ghost told me.” He says, taking a trembling breath. “His ghost told me so, before he disappeared.”

The Red Hood says nothing, and Danny gathers his thoughts. The ones that had been buried deep next to his core, shoved down ever since Danny learned of Rath and a terrible future where a world is destroyed by one ghost’s hands.

Danny has never said it out loud before. His face scrunches up briefly, and then smooths out when his eyes squeeze shut. “I’m going to kill him, Red Hood.” He murmurs when he opens his eyes, turning his face toward the vigilante. The sound is sucked out of the air.

The Red Hood stares at him, but he doesn’t say a word. Danny pushes on, teeth grinding into teeth as he flips his silvery scarred hand back and forth. Palm up, palm down. “It’s why I haven’t been back to Gotham in a while.” He admits, voice still quiet. “If I see the Joker I will kill him, and I won’t feel bad for it.”

“Not today though,” he says, and closes his hand, “today I’m here on a favor to Vlad Masters. Then after this I’ll go visit my friend. I need to apologize for not seeing his grave in a while. I’ll have to stop by a florist to see if they have any zinnias. Jay likes those.”

He takes out the cigarette in his mouth and breathes out one last cloud of smoke. And then he crushes the cigarette stick under his foot and walks back inside.

#….AND THATS ALL I HAVE FOR THIS AU #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #dpxdc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc crossover #dp crossover #dpdc #dp dc crossover #childhood friends au #whats the jasonxdanny ship name again??#Undead ship?#no no wait its dead on main #dead on main #cw cigarettes #cw smoking #smoking tw #oh fuck this got long (story of my life) but onfg i didnt wanna make #more than one part #anyways Danny and Jason are buddies uwu #thank god that tumblr has a seemingly endless word count #one sided timxdanny #tim’s crush on danny is basically the same thing #as a little sibling developing a crush on their older brother’s friend #he’ll get over it in a few months #its a small infatuation not to worry #danny is completely oblivious to it #thanks dc writers for making Tim imortally sixteen #it makes everyone else’s ages a little easier to remember #you can see me running out of steam at the last stretch of this monster thing

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homunculus-argument · 1 year

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I was born and raised American, but with everything that's happened over the past few years I've been considering moving to another country. but I don't know if this is just "the grass is greener". Not sure if this really fits with your blog, but as someone from Europe what's your attitude towards living in the US?

I've visited there a handful of times and most of my thoughts are "damn bitch, y'all really live like this?" People in Finland like to complain about the climate, the taxes, and how stingy the welfare systems are (if you currently rely on them) or how costly they are (if you're currently not relying on them), but honestly most of the time that's because people are used to having it so good, or don't really have a perspective of how bad everyone would be doing without the infrastructure that everything runs on.

Sure, nowhere is perfect, and there's always room for improvement, but honestly the people I've met in the US only really seem to think that their system is good because they've never been anywhere else and don't know any better.

Mostly it's stuff that you'd never think about if you hadn't been to both places, like being able to trust that tap water is drinkable or that you can safely walk/bike to wherever you need to go. The US really doesn't have the kind of ability to just hang out in public places, just walking to the town and sitting on benches. Having public parks and libraries isn't really the same if you can't just walk there, and you genuinely need a car to go anywhere.

I moan and lament a lot about how the winters here are hard to endure - at the darkest time of the year the sun rises at 9 and sets before 5 pm - but I wouldn't move from here just because of that, mainly because of how reliably everything is structured here. Sure, it's all run with funds from relatively high taxes, but that is a self-feeding loop on its own. The tax-paying workforce isn't a disposable resource that's wrung dry once and tossed out when it's broken, but even when you're just another cog in the machine, you're one that's maintained, not replaced if broken.

I had a lot of breakdowns when I was younger, largely due to depression and other mental issues I had due to the undiagnosed ADHD. When I started breaking down at work in my old factory job, they couldn't just fire me on the spot because of the workers' union fought tooth and nail to make sure that you can't throw people out for getting sick, and mental illness is treated no different from other health issues. I was allowed to take two years off work in order to study into a career I thought would fit me better. That didn't turn out well either, but I was still allowed to bounce back and forth between odd jobs, sick leave, and studying - all on government pensions during the spots when I wasn't working a wage - until I found the right diagnosis, the right medications, and the right job.

It's not a hyperbole to say that I owe my life to the ample and studry social welfare systems that Finland has in place. Sure, you're just another brick in the wall, a cog in the machine, but if you keep breaking down, it takes a long time until they completely give up on you if you can somehow make them believe that you're trying, because it's cheaper for the tax system to figure out how to make you fit into the machine than just toss you out. A human being is an expensive investment and if getting you to the right job, education, diagnosis, medication or even arranged housing is what it takes to get your ass back into the workforce, they'll at least try.

I'm perfectly happy to pay the taxes here to fund the system that helped me onto my feet when I was in no condition to function, and to support the people who never do recover, find their place, or be able to support themselves on their own. And I can live with the peace of mind that even if I fall apart again, that safety net is still there. It's brutal, pragmatic, and regards your health and welfare as a means to an end - to get you working and paying taxes again - but they still do prioritise your welfare. Cogs are cheaper to maintain than replace.

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loveinhawkins · 1 year

Text

The birthday gift Robin gets from her parents is that they’re gonna help her fund a three month solo trip to Paris. Steve thinks she should be delivering this news with much more excitement than she currently is.

“Okay, but you’re going, right?” he says, as she bites her nails for the third time. When she doesn’t reply, he lifts his eyes to the heavens, despairing. “Oh my god, are you kidding? Robin, you’ve wanted this for—”

“Years,” she confirms, so quietly. “I want—” She swallows. “I want it so badly, Steve.”

He pauses, drops their usual teasing schtick. “Okay,” he says, a little softer. “What’s going on?”

“It’s just…” She moves her hand away from her mouth, tugs on a hangnail. “What if—what if something… happens. And I’m not…” She gestures vaguely. “Not here.”

Steve slings an arm over her shoulder. “Rob,” he says, “nothing’s gonna happen.”

Robin nods. “I know, I know.”

But then she sighs, and Steve understands: it’s one thing to know something objectively, another thing to feel the certainty in your bones.

He has a wave of gratitude for Robin’s parents, for them knowing that she needs this, for letting her have a year out, maybe even two, without judgement. It’s something they all need, really, in different ways: some time to let the weight of everything settle, to catch their breath.

Steve’s honestly been relishing the mundanity of it all, the comfort of routine—easy days where the biggest ‘disaster’ is him being late for their opening shift at Family Video.

“Keith’s keeping your job open for you, right?” Steve asks, just in case that’s a sticking point.

Robin nods again, laughing. “Yeah, mom arranged that all before she even booked the flights. Well, I think she just basically told him that—”

“So it’s gonna be a super long vacation.” Steve gives her knee a reassuring little shake, before tickling the back of it. “Jesus, Robin, if you don’t go, I’ll go for you.”

Robin snorts and wiggles out of his grip. “Shut up.”

“And I’ll speak French so badly that I’ll just get banned for life, like, right outta the gate, it’ll be tragic—”

“I’ve got the picture, dingus,” she says, and she’s smiling—finally, finally there’s a spark of excitement in her eyes.

And that excitement only grows as her flight date gets closer, as she calls Steve the week before, begging him to be the one to take her to the airport, because, “My dad took one look at my suitcase and burst into tears, please Steve, the man can’t do this.”

And then Steve’s pulling up to her driveway, and she’s already waiting for him, perched on her suitcase. She’s wearing a cobalt blue beret, and Steve loves her so much he thinks his heart might burst with it.

For a while, it’s all grins and laughter, Steve giggling every time he edges out of the driveway, and Robin’s mom stops him, frantically waving, asking if Robin’s got everything, did you pack that other coat, honey?

Then it feels like time rushes forward—they’re at the airport, and Steve gets out of the car to fetch Robin’s case from the trunk, but she’s already got it, is already standing in the parking lot, eyes wide.

“What’s gonna happen now?” she whispers.

Steve’s heart clenches; the last time she’d asked that had been as they sped to the hospital, Robin gripping his hand so tightly as Eddie lay unconscious.

Steve puts both hands on her shoulders. “You’re gonna have the best time,” he says, deadly serious, “and then you’re gonna come back and tell me all about it.”

She laughs, right on the edge of becoming tearful. “O-okay.” She blinks several times.

“Don’t,” Steve says, faux-warningly, “or you’ll set me off, too.”

And it’s only partly a joke.

“Okay,” Robin says again, and then she’s hugging Steve tight, pressing a damp kiss to his cheek. “I’ll miss you.”

“God, me too. Every day.” Steve rocks her back and forth, makes sure her beret doesn’t get dislodged with the force of the hug.

When they break apart, Robin picks up her case—she pauses, then grins.

“Now, if you’ll just point me in the right direction…”

Steve chuckles. He spins her around so she’s facing the airport, then pats her on the back.

She starts walking.

Steve stays right where he is; he knows she’ll look back right at the last second—ah, there she goes. He shakes his head, laughs. Waves.

He drives back alone.

When he gets home, he barely has time to even think about it, because the kids have biked over after school, clamouring for him to order pizza from the moment he opens the front door, and Eddie’s shrugging apologetically with a grin, and it’s only later that Steve realises that the whole thing was probably coordinated beforehand.

And he’s fine, really, he’s absolutely fine until he steps into the hall to use the phone, and he unthinkingly orders the pizza him and Robin usually share: one half with pepperoni, the other half with mushrooms.

And then he has to finish the rest of the phone call with a lump in his throat, and when he hangs up, Eddie is watching him with a sad kind of smile.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

“Don’t. Don’t be nice to me, goddamn it.” Steve shuts his eyes. “I was fine, I was fine.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Eddie knocks their foreheads together gently. “I’ll miss her, too.”

And God, missing Robin does hurt, but it’s nothing compared to the joy Steve feels whenever he receives a letter from her. He laughs himself stupid the first time, because instead of just using sheets of paper, she’s sent multiple postcards wrapped in an elastic band, her handwriting all squished so she can fit everything in.

She writes like she talks, all rambling enthusiasm, and Steve cherishes every word.

He can tell she’s having so much fun. She enthuses about little cafés she’s found, a bookstore near Notre Dame; she spends multiple pages on art galleries, how she has the time to wander, to look at a painting again and again until the meaning reveals itself, it was like when I solved that ‘crossword’ in the mall, it suddenly just clicked, you know? I need you here next time, you’ll look at it from another angle, I wanna know what you think.

She sends Polaroids, too. There’s one of her in a white shirt with a trilby hat at a jaunty angle—Steve can tell she’s been in the sun, because there’s freckles all over the bridge of her nose. On the back of the photograph, she’s written Had a carefree kiss!

And Steve cries when he reads it, because he knows what it means: that Robin’s often spoken wistfully about how she’s never got to have that fleeting summer kind of love, where nothing is all that serious.

But she’s still so young, and life is finally light, and she gets to have it now.

Other photographs are sent to Eddie, with instructions that he should translate the French Robin’s written on them, à force de pratique, on y arrive, mon cher Édouard!

“I said literally once that French at school wasn’t, like, the worst,” Eddie says, pouting. “Didn’t realise that meant she was gonna torture me from across the world.” He frowns at a picture of Robin petting a grey cat, a bowl of food at its little paws. “And I tried translating whatever the fuck she’s written here, but I can’t work it out.”

“Not even a guess?” Steve says.

“I mean, yeah, but it sounds so stilted, man, I know it’s wrong. Like, who actually says where the silver cat feeds—you dick, stop laughing! What’s so funny?”

Two months pass, and Robin’s back soon, but not soon enough to catch Steve’s birthday. It’s not like he wants to have a huge party, anyway—he goes to Wayne and Eddie’s for dinner, and discovers Dustin leading a not-so successful ‘secretly bake a birthday cake,’ meeting at Max’s.

Everyone’s on their second slice of cake when the phone rings, and Steve knows instantly who it is from the way Eddie shouts, “Huh? What?”, like there’s a delay on the line. Then he beams and shouts, “Steve! Got a long distance call for you.”

Steve’s over in a flash.

“I promise I’ve got you something,” Robin says, slightly muffled—every so often a word will cut out, but Steve gets the gist. “I swear, I’m not awful, I was gonna post it, but then I had no idea how many stamps I’d need, and I didn’t wanna risk losing it forever to, like, the nightmare limbo of customs, so I thought when I come back, I can—”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Steve laughs, “you didn’t need to get me anything. This is the best present ever.”

“Oh, gross,” Robin says cheerfully. “You’re all sentimental in your old age. Happy Birthday, Steve.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, and the lump in his throat is back, but it’s not so bad; he can breathe through it. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

And then there’s a sound that Steve at first thinks is just from the bad quality of the line, but then he realises it’s Robin trying to stifle a yawn; “Wait, Jesus, isn’t it, like, two in the morning over there? Go to bed!”

She doesn’t listen, of course—they keep chatting, everyone in the room wants a turn on the phone, Robin teasing Eddie relentlessly for his French pronunciation.

And as Steve ends the call, he finds that the hurt of missing her has faded away into something else—knowing that there’ll be comings and goings in their lives all the time, adventures they’ll share and adventures they won’t. But they’ll always, always find their way back to one another.

Steve sets the phone into its cradle, pictures Robin doing the very same so many miles away.

Yeah, we’re gonna be just fine, you and me, Steve thinks, and feels the certainty of it right in his bones.

#steve and robin #steve and robin fic #steve and robin ficlet #robin buckley fic #steve harrington fic #eddie and robin #steddie #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #background steddie

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blackwoolncrown · 1 year

Text

Hey allies - I could use support <3 (Black, autistic, NB femme, orphan of estrangement)

So long story short I've been through the ringer lately- The great part is things that I've been working towards for the past 2 years are finally coming to fruition!

The hard part is that I've been dealing with frequent fees and expenses in the process and Oct-Nov promise even more.

If you don't know, I was displaced from FL during the housing crisis and just couldn't keep up with what the US was demanding of me for survival, so I moved to another country at the suggestion and helping hand of a friend.

Recently, I've managed to get part of my residency process under way, but the trip to do so cost me ~$2k for travel, food and lodgings, I'd JUST had my car fixed.

When I got back to the country I was told that completing the process would be another $100 fee; my lease is up next month and in order to move I'll need to pay 2x rent wherever I go.

It's just a lot building up and I make a modest income right now; my savings is drained from taking care of things with my business and having to travel back and forth to a town 1.5 hours away bc my place got robbed and I've been having to handle things w the police & my landlord while I stay at a friends (still, unfortunately, paying rent at the place I can't stay at rn). I'd love to focus on my work to help w this but I only do payroll once a month, and I'll need to pay fees & rent sooner than that because next month I have to move AND drive 3 days to pay a bunch of money to import my car.

There's more and I'd be happy to give more detail/proof if anyone wants it (DM me) but overall I have just been really financially drained, burned out, and I need funding to assist w covering groceries, deposit and legal fees for this month into Oct & Nov.

**I am not at risk of being houseless or unfed atm so this is really for anyone with privilege who can comfortably help out***

C***app: $moonseye

!!!PLEASE DO NOT TAG!!!!

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tokoyamisstuff · 1 month

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Sweet Tooth

Homelander x GN! Reader

Summary: Homelander is a regular customer at your little coffeeshop, visiting anytime he craves something sweet - you, in particular. Warnings: Canon-typical violence, cussing, HL is horny and also a douche Words: 1,575

"Seriously, Y/N? Who the fuck drinks a milkshake at 8am?"

Ah, there he is. You almost got worried because he ran late today.

"What are you, five? Grow the fuck up." That said, the gruff man in front of you pulled out a few loose dollar bills, cheekily slamming them on the counter. "One for me too, please."

You smirk, putting the cup down after slurping it in one go. Ouch, brainfreeze. "Good morning to you too, sunshine."

That's what he likes most about you: Finally someone that can take a fucking joke. People he usually surrounds himself with are either afraid of him, or got a damn stick up their asses.

Communication wasn't really his forte without someone dictating the lines he'd have to say. But with you it came refreshingly easy, that back and forth was so enjoyable that he almost felt human.

"Coming right away" you chant, already busying yourself with the ingredients. "With how often you're ordering this drink, I should name it after you."

Homelander snorts at the well-deserved mockery, unable to keep his mouth shut since you look so adorable when irritated. "As you should, considering I basically fund this place."

"Hey!" you put a warning finger in the air, lighthearted voice earnest now. "I can tolerate a lot, but that's no joking matter."

Okay, the location you were able to afford was neither central nor in a remotely good part of the town. It was so small that there was only space for two tables, and the interior honestly decaying.

But at least it was honest work, and you did the best you could.

"With the new Starbucks across the street I'm basically bancrupt." Oh godfuckingdamnit, he fucked up. Homelander here to unwind, and certainly not to listen to you whining about your insignificant little life.

Maybe Vought should send you a check, though - losing this spot would be annoying.

Initially Homelander came to your café out of sheer coincidence, wanting to calm his nerves after his first encounter with Sister Sage. He took a longer stroll through some shady alleyways, hoping to run into some lowlife to rip apart...

...instead, he found you. A pathetic excuse of business and surely not even remotely close to achieving the American Dream, but whatever.

John had found himself entranced with the cheesy decoration, a desperate attempt to make a place like this feel cozy. He secretly admired people with the ability to make anywhere feel like home.

Well, the menu looked good enough that he decided to treat himself with something sweet as matter of exception - and now it had become part of his daily routine.

Things had just settled like this, with you offering him your sincere company while he'd cryptically vent about anything on his mind.

"Here: For my favourite customer!" you cheered proudly as you presented him the shake. "Made with extra love."

"Secret ingredient, huh? You're just nice to get an extra tip" he tries to hide the insecurity behind a sassy remark, but you instantly parry his claim. "What, why, because you're so generous? Nonsense. You're just lucky you're so cute."

It was no lie, really. John had a rough shell and wore his heart on his tongue, but you appreciated his honesty and the good conversations you shared.

As you were rummaging in the kitchen counter, he couldn't help but notice how you turn down the radio despite continuing to hum the song it was playing. He once told you about having misophonia, and how much he hates modern pop music. You actually listen to him, consider his feelings unlike the imbeciles he's used to.

"Woah, maybe tune it down with the sugar, darling" he thought aloud as you poured yourself a coffe. Damn, he needs to save himself after this one - but the only thing he comes up with sounded more like a backhanded compliment at max. "You're already sweet enough, don't ya think?"

"Charming as always, I see." Your face contorts into a mixture of confusion and amusement at his words, and feeling bold you turn around, giving a provocating slap to your own ass. "As long as the fat goes into the right places."

John bites his bottom lip at the sight of your tight leggings framing your curves too well. Yeah, that'd be a great place to dig his fingers into. Some cushion wouldn't bruise or make you whine if he'd become a little rougher. Shit, his pants feel awfully tight right now.

"You're staring." Seeing him being the flustered one for a change sure was a great feeling, considering that he was very aware of his own good looks. So you decide to get him off the high horse, playfully poking his soft belly. "Also, you're one to talk."

Homelander shifts on the barstool, closing his legs so you wouldn't notice his cock twitching in anticipation at the sudden proximity. God knows how often he had daydreamed about slamming you onto the next best surface and fucking you stupid.

"You really shouldn't be mean to someone that could spit in your drink." He smirks, a predatory glint in his eyes as he leaned forwards until his unfairly handsome face was just inches from yours. "Joke's on you - I'd savour every last drop."

The audacity. You physically fight rolling your eyes at him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of reacting. "Sometimes I think you're the most obnoxious person in the world, John."

Liar, he thinks to himself.

Nothing is hidden from his abilities, neither your raised bloodpressure nor the scent of the wet spot forming between your legs. He prided himself on that fact. And yet you stand there all taken aback, trying to play coy. Cute.

Well, it wasn't as if you had no interest in him. He's been coming here for weeks and you're still working up the courage to at least give him your number - but he was so incredibly out of your fucking league that you never considered actually going through with it.

Homelander on the other hand decided he had let the opportunity slip for way too long already. Except for both of you the shop was empty as always, and even if it wasn't he wouldn't care. Hell, he'd already imagined what it would be like pounding you naked against the display window to show every passenger who you'd belong to from now on.

"John, I-"

"Shh" he hushed you, his silencing finger lingering on your lips. You pulled away, just to be caught by a firm hand on the back of your neck. "Tell me if I should stop - but we both know what you want me to do to you."

Oh, he's insufferable.

Honestly, you should just slap him and tell him to go fuck himself - but a primal need had already shut down the rational part of your brain. "Damnit John, will you kiss me now or do I need to fuck that shiteating grin out of your face?"

Shit, what's not to love about you?

"Hands up in the air you two shitheads, this is a robbery!"

Un-fucking-believable.

While you immediately went into panic mode, seeing a weapon up close for the first time in your whole life, John nonchalantly leaned against the counter, an aggravated groan escaping his throat. "Dude, worst fucking timing."

"John, don't provoke him-" He threw a hand up in the air, signalizing you to be quiet. "Stay behind and let me handle this, sweetheart."

You nod quietly, John shielding you with his body as you shakily paced behind the counter. A shot was fired and you shrieked at the sound, apparently the criminal wasn't exactly patient or he just didn't like your customer's tone.

"John! God John, are you alri-" Your words got caught in your throat as you saw the shell fall to the ground. Must be the adrenaline clouding your view, but there seemed to be not a scratch on his body. He winks cockily at you before turning around, using the lasers in his eyes to make a quick end to this before you'd involuntarily get caught into the crossfire.

"So, is the drink on the house or what?" The hero jokes unfazed after just having spread literal brain matter on your tiles.

You were still trembling when he squatted in front of your cowering self, reassuringly patting your back. This shit is like second nature to him, and sadly the little empathy he possessed had dulled over time. "I told you to stay down, silly."

As soon as you've calmed down to a certain extend, you pulled your savior's baseball cap from his head, revealing disheveled blonde hair.

"Are you the fucking Homelander?!"

"Can't deny that after what you've just witnessed" he answers truthfully, offering you a hand to get up. "Took you long enough to figure out, though."

Your strained pants turned into hysterical laughter, probably due to the shock. "I-I honestly have no words."

That means he wins today's banter, he jubilates internally. You could've been a little more thrilled about the reveal of his identity, though - but hey, you can show him your gratitude later on.

"Thank you, I guess." You finally release the breath you were holding, tension leaving your body as you collapsed into his arms. Police sirens could already be heard fast approaching. "I- could you please bring me home after the investigation is over?"

"Sure" he tries to hide his excitement, cradling your exhausted self against his chest. "If you don't mind, I'll take you to go."

#the boys #homelander #homelander x reader #homelander / reader #john gillman #self insert #writing #fanfiction

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sayruq · 11 months

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Biden's visit has concluded. Israel has spent his entire visit trying to muddy the waters of what happened to Al Ahli Hospital and despite their cartoonish efforts, it hasn't worked

The Global South and especially West Asia know who is responsible for the bombing and no amount of AI voice recordings of 'Hamas operatives' can change that.

Israel war crimes continues to backfire on them even in America

Biden backing Israel has had an impact on America's image. Here's a Wall Street Journal article warning that America's continued support is turning countries towards Russia and China which is code for turning countries against America

An EU official said that the EU will pay a heavy price in the Global South for its continued, unabashed support for Israel

There's also speculation that the Biden administration knew about the bombing before it happened.

Countries that were/are allied with Israel continue to distance themselves from Israel like Russia. The reason I keep highlighting Russia is because the West has been running out of ammunition due to the Russia-Ukraine war and that includes Israel which is rumoured to have sent 80-90% of its ammunition to Ukraine. If this conflict lasts a long time, Israel will need to buy weapons and ammunition and Russia would be one of the countries they would turn to (same with China)

So, where are we in terms of the conflict? After days of waffling over a ground operation in Gaza, Israel postponed it until some time after Biden's visit and now we're back here again

Now I'm no military expert but constantly going back and forth on whether or not you'll invade Gaza is bound to do damage to your troops' morale. No wonder they're dealing with mass desertions while their citizens demonstrate on the streets. The Israeli leadership has no plan besides bombing Gaza.

I've seen people on twitter say that the hospital bombing was done deliberately to normalise IDF soldiers to mass civilian deaths in places like hospitals, schools, places of worship, etc. I don't know if I believe that - I think they wanted to push Iran and Hezbollah's buttons before hiding behind Biden. I don't think these people are thinking strategically.

As far as the possibility of regional war is concerned, all indicators show that the West preparing for the war to escalate

Seems to me the Israel has seen what Ukraine has received in just a year and a half of war. They're done receiving a paltry 3.8 billion every year and now prepared to drag out the conflict and I can't say I blame with Biden proposing a 100 billion package for both Ukraine and Israel. This will stretch America too thin as far as funding in concerned. Cracks are already showing

There are parts of the US government that is unhappy that the Ukraine war is losing attention. During the Ukraine war, you had parts of the government that wanted focus to shift from Russia to China. Because of that, the US government has spent the past year alternating between hostility to Russia and threatening to go to war with China over Taiwan. When Niger expelled France from within its borders, America was preparing to join that conflict until Mali and Burkina Faso declared they would fight with Niger. Now they're entering a third front in West Asia. In short, the mighty empire is expending a lot of resources right now and it is not the threat it was when it invaded Iraq and Afghanistan in the early 2000s.

At any rate, the ground invasion of Gaza won't go the way Israel and America hopes it will

The coalition of Palestinian resistance fighters are still patiently waiting for the IDF to come meet them. Their allies aren't backing down either

The reason I keep making these posts is to remind people that, while the genocide of the people of Gaza is horrifying, the war for the liberation of Palestine has not yet been lost.

Do not lose hope. From the river to sea, Palestine WILL be free

#palestine #free palestine #free gaza #gaza #colonialism #imperialism #genocide

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transmutationisms · 10 months

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genq what are the actual reasons that plagiarism is bad apart from profit and prestige?

so there are two main angles i usually think of here, which ultimately converge into some related issues in public discourse and knowledge production.

firstly, plagiarism should not just be understood as a violation one individual perpetuates against another; it has a larger role in processes of epistemological violence and suppression of certain people's arguments, ideas, and labour. consider the following three examples of plagiarism that is not at all counter to current structures of knowledge production, but rather undergirds them:

in colonial expeditions and encounters from roughly the 14th century onward, a repeated and common practice among european explorer-naturalists was to rely on indigenous people's knowledge of botany, geography, natural history, and so forth, but to then go on to publish this knowledge in their own native tongues (meaning most of the indigenous people they had learned from could not access, read, or respond to such publications), with little, vague, or no attribution to their correspondents, guides, hosts, &c. (many many examples; allison bigelow's 'mining language' discusses this in 16th and 17th century american mining, with a linguistic analysis foregrounded)

throughout the renaissance and early modern period, in contexts where european women were generally not welcome to seek university education, it was nonetheless common practice for men of science to rely on their wives, sisters, and other family members not just to keep house, but also to contribute to their scientific work as research assistants, translators, fund-raisers, &c. attribution practices varied but it is very commonly the case that when (if ever) historians revisit the biographies of famous men of science, they discover women around these men who were actively contributing to their intellectual work, to an extent previously unknown or downplayed (off the top of my head, marie-anne lavoisier; emma darwin; caroline herschel; rosalie lamarck; mileva marić-einstein...)

it is standard practice today for university professors to run labs where their research assistants are grad students and postdocs; to rely on grad students, undergrads, and postdocs to contribute to book projects and papers; and so forth. again, attribution varies, but generally speaking the credit for academic work goes to the faculty member at the head of the project, maybe with a few research assistants credited secondarily, and the rest of the lab / department / project uncredited or vaguely thanked in the acknowledgments.

in all of these cases, you can see how plagiarism is perpetuated by pre-existing inequities and structures of exploitation, and in turn helps perpetuate those structures by continuing to discursively erase the existence of people made socially marginal in the process of knowledge production. so, what's at stake here is more than just the specific individuals whose work has been presented as someone else's discovery (though of course this is unjust already!); it's also the structural factors that make academic and intellectual discourse an élite, exclusive activity that most people are barred from participating in. a critique of plagiarism therefore needs to move beyond the idea that a number of wronged individuals ought to be credited for their ideas (though again, they should be) and instead turn to the structures that create positions of epistemological authority under the aegis of capitalist entities: universities, legacy as well as new media outlets, and so forth. the issue here is the positions of prestige themselves, regardless of who holds them; they are, definitionally, not instruments of justice or open discourse.

secondly, there's the effect plagiarism has on public discourse and the dissemination of knowledge. this is an issue because plagiarism by definition obscures the circulation and origin of ideas, as well as a full understanding of the labour process that produces knowledge. you can see in the above examples how the attribution of other people's ideas as your own works to turn you into a mythologised sort of lone genius figure, whose role is now to spread your brilliance unidirectionally to the masses. as a result, the vast majority of people are now doubly shut out of any public discourse or debate, except as passive recipients of articles, posts, &c. you can't trace claims easily, you don't see the vast number of people who actually contribute to any given idea, and this all works to protect the class and professional interests of the select few who do manage to attain élite intellectual status, by reinforcing and widening the created gap between expert and layperson (a distinction that, again, tracks heavily along lines of race, gender, and so forth).

so you can see how these two issues really are part of one and the same structural problem, which is knowledge production as a tool of power, and one that both follows from and reinforces existing class hierarchies. in truth, knowledge is usually a collaborative affair (who among us has ever had a truly original idea...) and attributions should be a way of both acknowledging our debts to other people, and creating transparency in our efforts to stake claims and develop ideas. but, as long as there are benefits, both economic and social, to be gained from presenting yourself as an originator of knowledge, people will continue to be incentivised to do this. plagiarism is not an exception or an aberration; it's at best a very predictable outcome of the operating logics of this 'knowledge economy', and at worst—as in the examples above—a normal part of how expert knowledge is produced, and its value protected, in a system that is by design inequitable and exclusive.

#plagiarism #academia

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hellfirenacht · 5 months

Text

This Machine...

Summary: Your birthday is coming up, and Eddie makes you a present.

Tags: sfw, friends to lovers, slightly possessive Eddie and Reader if you squint, Eddie Munson x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k words

Master List

There were certain perks to being the school’s resident dealer. For one, Eddie had made very good friends with the old janitor that kept to himself, flying under everyone’s radar, including Higgins’. The nice perk that came with being friends with ol’ Mr. Greg was the fact that he had the keys to every single room in the school, which meant that Eddie’s lock-picking days were lowered considerably.

These were good perks to have, especially since your birthday was coming up. Eddie had convinced the art teached at the beginning of every year to allow himself and his club to use the art room to make their Hellfire shirts. The art department had managed to get funding four years ago for a screen printing kit, convincing the board that having the ability to make shirts would create unity within the school.

Frankly, Eddie thought that was a load of bullshit. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to use it to his advantage when he could. So every September, Eddie would gather his little sheepies for an afternoon of arts and crafts, creating the shirts and ruining the ones they were wearing in the mess. Eddie would always try and make a few extra, just in case there were stragglers that needed saving from the conformity of Hawkins High school. Not once did he consider the irony of having his sheep in uniform.

In most cases, the art teacher was willing to work with him and let him in without much fuss. Of course, that was when Eddie was still a student. He had now been a proud high school graduate for seven months and the shock of not being in school had him spiraling for the first month before he found himself working at the Hideout again. Work, rehearsal, work, rehearsal, a thirty minute set at the Hideout if he was lucky, work, rehearsal.

God, he missed Hellfire. That was the only part of school that he missed; a consistent Dungeons and Dragons schedule.

Still, it wasn’t all bad and monotonous. Turns out that if you aren’t stuck at school 8 hours a day, 5 days a week you can go other places when children are at school. And when you go to places where kids aren’t, you tend to meet adults.

Enter you.

You had been working at the record store on morning shift, and had been for a few months now. Although you had more often than not worked weekends, somehow you and Eddie had eluded each other in the two years of you sorting through the various artists and ringing up customers.

It had been a Thursday when Eddie met you, a fact he only remembered because the previous night had been the day that Bev allowed him to go on two nights in a row at the Hideout, which had been unheard of for Corroded Coffin.

“Ain’t no one barely here anyways, Eddie.” she’d said, having long since stopped calling him Junior.

He had been flying high, and an old drunk had even left him a tip on the bar, enough to drop by the record store and pick up an album he’d been eyeing for a while. You had been standing at the boxes, resetting them and reorganizing them for the hundredth time that week. It had been so slow that day that it was all you could do to keep yourself busy.

W.A.S.P had been playing at a near whisper quiet volume, and when Eddie asked you about it you had just smiled, shrugged, and said that the owner only allowed you to play them on Thursdays when it was dead, or Sunday morning when anyone who’d get offended by the lyrics would be at church.

The two of you had been friends ever since.

A half hour of idle chat about music had turned into five months of late night talks on the phone, hanging out in Eddie’s van, swapping music back and forth, visiting each other during your shifts, and a tentative bi-monthly D&D session with you, and Corroded Coffin.

Eddie would never know how badly he messed up your sleep schedule, going on late at night with Corroded Coffin when you had a morning shift, but it was always worth it to give him a sober audience member.

The best nights though, were the times where you’d come over and just... hang out with him. You’d come over to Wayne’s trailer after your shift, or he’d pick you up from your place, and the two of you would just sit and talk.

You never bat an eye at how messy his room was, and he made sure there was no food left out and would at least make an effort to clean out all of the beer cans in his room. Mostly you’d just sit on his bed and watch him play guitar, or spend hours talking about everything and nothing.

As much as you enjoyed hearing him practice the same riff on his electric guitar over and over again, you had admitted to him that you always had a soft spot for the acoustic guitar that collected a little more dust in the corner that he’d pull out on rare occasions.

THIS MACHINE SLAYS DRAGONS

You’d voiced your fondness for the instrument several times, enjoying the combination of Woody Gunthrie’s iconic guitar adjusted for your friends’ eccentric taste.

Five months of friendship. Five months of hanging out with no pressure, no needing to look after each other, five months of feeling like a fucking human in this damn town.

And one month of having the most embarrassing and awkward crush on you.

Eddie had dated before, and he’d been interested in girls and some girls had even shown some interest in him until they realized that Eddie wasn’t someone to be fixed or saved. Eddie had even had sex before, but not to the extreme lengths that he’d found had been circulating in high school.

Seriously, who had the time to come up with half the shit that this town thought he’d allegedly done?

You found great joy in hearing about his spin in the rumor mill. Whenever one of you heard a rumor about the Freak, you’d compare notes and laugh about how stupid it was. Of course, Eddie put little effort into actually stopping the rumors, and now that he was no longer in high school it didn’t seem to matter as much anymore. He’d still get dirty looks from people in town but he found that more often than not people would just leave him alone now. Jocks, nerds, freaks, cheerleaders; outside the halls of Hawkins High those words didn’t hold half the weight they used to.

“So they’re saying that now you spiked the punch at homecoming?” you asked, laughing. “I must have missed that dance.”

“Yeah, so did I. I only went to homecoming once in school and that was Sophomore year.” Eddie replied, his fingers tabbing out a melody that he had been working on for a new song. “And there was no way I was able to get my hands on any alcohol that night.”

“Why would you waste perfectly good alcohol on a high school dance, anyway?” you laughed.

Eddie could listen to you laugh for hours.

And it was because of this, that Eddie was now back at Hawkins High, while Ol’ Greg unlocked the art room on this fine weekend. It didn’t take much convincing, Ol’ Greg didn’t give a shit about Eddie’s reputation and never had, and for that Eddie had slipped the janitor an extra joint for his trouble as payment for letting him in.

The room looked about the same as it had the last few weeks of school, aside from some new art projects. Other than that, everything was in about the same place. Eddie wasted a little time wandering around the room, looking at the different projects and taking in the scent of old clay and dried paint. Aside from the old drama room, the art room was the only other place in the school where he felt okay in this hellhole.

It didn’t take much to get your shirt size. You always had a bad habit of leaving your sweaters in his van, so going to grab a blank hoodie in your size was the easy part. The design he was using was easy as well, and after so many years of making Hellfire Club shirts he could probably make this in his sleep.

But he wouldn’t, because he wanted this to be perfect. So for the next few hours he carefully pulled out the equipment, found the right shade of red he wanted to use and painstakingly created the stencil, adding his own personal flair to it. The finished product was probably nicer than any Hellfire Club shirt he’d ever made.

By the end of it, your new hoodie was done and he was sure that you’d love it so much that you’d never forget it in his van.

With the finished product in hand he was able to lock up, thank Ol’ Greg, and make his way home.

Now all Eddie had to do was give it to you for your birthday. The two of you had made plans to hang out that morning together at Benny’s for some birthday waffles or pancakes or french toast or whatever you wanted. He’d treat you, he’d been saving for this.

Then he’d give you the gift, and you’d love it and then he’d suck it up and ask you out. He could do this. Jeff swore to Eddie up and down that you clearly had feelings for him. Eddie wasn’t stupid, he’d noticed your flirting and had flirted back so many times. This dance between the two of you had been going on for weeks now, but it didn’t make it any less terrifying. With any luck, the note he had tucked into the pocket would also help him out.

You were already at your usual booth when he arrived that Sunday morning. It was supposed to be a very quiet morning, Benny’s was never busy first thing on Sunday. So when Eddie walked into the diner to meet you, his stomach dropped as he saw the rest of his band already sitting with you.

A chorus of his friends called him over, and Eddie, dejected, slid in the booth on the opposite side of you. You were on the end of one booth, seated next to Jeff and Zack, while Eddie took the spot next to Gareth.

Eddie wanted to be pissed at the guys for ruining his plan, but then he saw the look on your face. You were thrilled to be around everyone and were excitedly talking to Jeff about the new song that he was learning. It was your birthday, your day, and if you were having fun, that was the important part. He did make sure to put your food on his tab though, he wasn’t going to let anyone else have that satisfaction.

As the morning went on, Eddie had completely forgotten about the hoodie currently sitting in the small bag by his leg. He was only reminded of it when Gareth got up to go pee and Eddie was forced out of the booth, as his foot kicked the bag and you noticed it.

Your eyes immediately lit up when you noticed the red gift bag and your smile widened.

“Eddie, is that for me?” you asked, batting your eyelashes. “Did you get me a present?”

He didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone, that hadn’t been part of the plan. But he sucked it up and pulled the hoodie out and tossed it to you. Eddie could worry about asking you out later when the rest of his friends weren’t around. He’d never want to put that pressure on you anyway.

“Yessss!” you grabbed it eagerly in your hands and unfolded the hoodie, noticing the design.

This Machine Slays Dragons was splashed across the front, and on the front pocket was a small colony of bats, just like the ones on Eddie’s arm. He watched as your eyes widened, in surprise and delight, and felt a wave of relief wash over him as you eagerly put it on.

“Holy shit, Eddie, I love it!” you said, and got out of the booth to throw your arms around him. Your lips pressed against his cheek, and for a moment Eddie felt like he was on cloud nine as he hugged you back, giving you a slight squeeze before you pulled away.

“You always said you liked my guitar.” He said, shooting a look to his bandmates who were making kissy faces behind your back. The glare only egged them on.

“It’s got your bats on it.” you said, looking down at the design, smoothing it out. “This is so fuckin’ cool!”

As you ran your hands down the design, you heard a faint crinkle in the pocket. When you reached inside, alarm bells went off in Eddie’s head and he quickly muttered something about needing a cigarette before turning on his heel and walking straight outside to his van.

He’d completely forgotten the note that he had slipped into the pocket. You absolutely were not supposed to open that in front of everyone. Eddie leaned against the back of his van, lightly smacking his head against the door, the barely touched cigarette in his hand.

“Eddie...?” Your voice made him go stiff, his head still against the fan. He took one long drag of the cigarette and exhaled the smoke before standing up straight to look at you. You were holding the note in your hand with a sheepish grin on your face.

“Hey.” He said, not sure how to proceed. He couldn’t read your smile. Was it a sad smile? Were you going to awkwardly tell him that you didn’t feel the same but you could be friends? He could live with that, but it would really sting.

“So....” you looked at the note and read the two words printed there in his handwriting. “‘Date me’, huh? I’ve heard you come up with the wildest descriptions for things when we play D&D, but the most you could jot down was... ‘Date me’?”

It was. Eddie had racked his brain for hours on what to say to you, but he couldn’t find the words he wanted to. Everything felt either too cheesy, or too stiff, or not him, or too casual. He was really banking on the hoodie to be more of a selling point than the note.

“I thought it’d be cuter if it had just been the two of us this morning.” Eddie admitted. “Look, I get it if you’re here to respectfully decline. We can just be friends, I swear I won’t make it weird-”

“I’ll date you.” The words were firm and steadfast. There wasn’t a single waiver in your voice as you said those three words. You took a step closer to him and shoved the note back in the hoodie pocket. “Eddie I... I want to date you. I’ve wanted to date you for about 10 minutes after we met.”

Eddie’s head lowered slightly and his eyes widened as he stared at you. “Are you serious?”

“Well, yeah.” you said. “A cute guy walks into a record store, knows about good music, invites me to play D&D and then becomes one of my best friends? Yes, Eddie, I want to date you.”

Eddie snuffed out the barely touched cigarette and leaned in towards you. God, he was fucking clueless sometimes.

“You know... that hoodie looks good on you.” He said, trying to sound smooth. “It’ll look better in the back of my van.”

You stared blankly at him for a second and then burst out laughing, your head thrown back. “No, no, nevermind.” you cackled. “I changed my mind. I’m done. We’re done.”

Had Eddie not known you as well as he did, he might have taken that as a real rejection. But he knew that laugh, he’d heard it a hundred times over the past few months.

He reached out and grabbed your hand and pulled you closer to him, you were still smiling wide when you looked up at him. “Seriously, Eddie? I agree to date you and you pull out that line?”

“Don’t get mad at me, Sweetheart.” He said. “You’re the one constantly leaving your clothes in my van. I don’t know why you’re laughing at my perfectly innocent statement.”

“Oh fuck off, Eddie.” You laughed. “You know exactly what you said and how you meant it. And maybe I wouldn’t have had to leave my clothes in your van all the time if you had asked me out earlier.”

“And would you care to share that logic with me?” Eddie raised an eyebrow. Had you really been leaving things in his van on purpose?

“I had to mark my territory.” you said with a smile. “Can’t let anyone in your van think that you’re seeing someone else.”

It was Eddie’s turn to laugh and you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Ah yes, the most popular freak in all of Hawkins definitely has a line out the door of people wanting to date him.” he said, his hands finding your hips.

“You’re laughing. I’ve seen you flirting with Ms. Robin’s at The Hideout and you're laughing at me?” you tried to pout, but you were holding back your own giggles.

“Ms. Robins is a 75 year old woman who can drink everyone under the table.” Eddie pointed out.

“See? How am I supposed to compete with that! I had to sacrifice my jackets to make sure no one would be asking you out.” you protested. “What else could I-”

Eddie had originally planned on asking if it was okay for him to kiss you first, but he knew that if he didn’t do something now you’d keep cracking jokes and this conversation wouldn’t go anywhere. You tasted faintly like your birthday breakfast, but Eddie quickly decided that it wasn’t a bad thing. He felt the faint push of your lips back against his, and he mentally kicked himself for not doing this the first time you two hung out.

“Happy birthday.” Eddie said, as he finally pulled back.

“Guess I got my wish, and I didn’t even have to blow out any candles.” you replied, just a little bashful at the admission.

“You aren’t allowed to leave this hoodie in my van.” Eddie said. “You can leave any other jacket or sweater in there but not this one.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” you said, “But why this one specifically?”

Eddie touched the pocket that had the bats that matched his tattoo. “Because how else will other people know that you’re seeing someone?”

“Oh, you little shit!” you laughed. “Really? You think I’m weird for what I did when you basically put your logo on a hoodie that you know I’m going to wear every day?”

“Guess that makes us both freaks now.” He replied, with a satisfied grin.

“There are worse things to be in a small town.” you decided, taking his hand. “So I guess this means you’re my boyfriend now. No take backs.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Sweetheart.” Eddie crossed his heart.

You leaned in and gave him another quick kiss. “Come on. The sooner we go back in there, the sooner you all can sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to me, and the sooner that’s done, then the sooner we can leave. And if you play your cards right, Eddie, you might get lucky and see this hoodie on the floor of your van anyway.”

“So, the line worked?” He smirked.

“Come on, Zack is hiding a box of cupcakes.” you laced your fingers with his. “Dessert first and then second dessert.”

“And then elevensies dessert?” Eddie teased.

“It’s my birthday and I will change my mind, I swear.” you cackled, walking back into the diner with him.

And because he knew your laugh so well, he had a very good feeling about how he’d help celebrate your birthday when the two of you would finally be alone.

Thank you @hellfiredarling for the hoodie! They made it for me for my birthday last year 💜

Divider by @strangergraphics

#nacht fic #eddie munson x reader #I'm on a roll with posting be proud of me

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dailyrothko · 23 days

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I know most of you don't have any money or are giving what you have to charitable causes (and keep on with that, the world needs help). But, I seem to have pretty much no work (i'm self employed) this month and if anyone can share this, who knows, it might reach some rich person who likes Rothko and wants to help me repair my crumbling resources.

I am, by the way, fairly embarrassed to fund raise at all. A big art account (not on tumblr) told me recently not to be and that people all have Patreon and substack and so forth, but all i can say is I look forward to the day when I can fund everything by myself.

I have been working hard on writing and acquiring and answering questions, doing research, etc. and , of course, I'm not going top put anything behind a paywall, but here I am .

Anyway, thanks.

#mark rothko #markrothko #rothko #daily rothko #dailyrothko #abstract expressionism #modern art #abstraction #colorfield #ab ex #colorfield painting #mid century

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kinardsevan · 2 months

Note

I wanna see both 4 and 6 but my first choice is 4

Tommy is pissed. He and Evan had plans to spend a week off in Florida, hitting up all the parks at Disney World. The tickets have been bought, the bags are packed, and they’re supposed to be leaving in twenty-four hours.

Which is why he can’t understand why Eddie called him from the ER.

Last he’d heard from his boyfriend and their mutual best friend, they’d been planning to take a bike ride through the park. Evan just got a new mountain bike that he’s been using pretty regularly on his days off. Tommy has joined him on several of the rides, but he’d been finishing up a 12 that he’d picked up off of one of his coworkers to help add to their vacation fund.

When he walks into the trauma bay, Evan is on the gurney and Eddie seated in the chair beside him, arms crossed.

“What in the fuck happened,” he asks, taking in Evan’s obvious injuries. He’s managed to scrape up half his face, there’s a nasty cut on his knee that probably needs stitches, and Evan is holding his left arm pretty tightly to his body in a way that has Tommy thinking it’s probably pretty injured. Eddie isn’t unscathed either; he has scrape on both calves and forearms, but he’s far less beat up than Evan is.

“We were just fucking around and finding out,” Evan replies, keeping his gaze low. “And we ended up finding out a little too hard.”

Eddie snorts.

“Evan.”

“He went over this thing that looked like a half-pipe,” Eddie states.

“Edmundo!” Evan whines. Tommy glares at him.

“Which one of you is in the hospital bed right now, Evan,” he chides. The blonde flinches at the statement.

“Anyway,” Eddie continues. “Turns out it was a wall, not a halfpipe.”

Tommy’s gaze zeroes in entirely on Evan than.

“What in the actual fuck?” He asks. He’s laughing, and he’s not even sure why, because he’s definitely not amused. “Baby,” he comments incredulously.

Evan presses his lips together in a thin line, eyes darting back and forth away from both Eddie and Tommy’s gaze.

“Oops?” he finally comments after a silence that’s drug on far too long.

Tommy just shakes his head, and he laughs again, mostly because he both can’t and can believe this is the life he signed up for when he and Evan started dating exclusively eight months ago.

“You’re an absolute shit head,” he tells him, crossing the room and perching on the bed, resting a hand on Evan’s thigh, away from the blood. “And you’re lucky I love you.”

Evan blushes then, looks up at him, a small smile on his face. “Still?”

Tommy tilts his head at him. “Yes, still.”

Eddie gags obnoxiously then, pushing himself up from his chair.

“I’m gonna go find the vending machines,” he states. “Let me know when we’re leaving.”

He walks out of the room, leaving Evan and Tommy alone. Tommy shifts into the empty chair, leans his head against his hand with his elbow on the arm of the chair.

“So what’s the worst of it,” he asks. Evan gets that inconspicuous look on his face again, looks away. He scrunches his face, like he’s trying to make less of the moment.

“Just a small, minor…dislocation.”

Tommy groans then, dropping his head back on the chair. After a beat, he lifts it back up, looking over at his boyfriend.

“Still going to Disney World tomorrow?” He asks.

Evan grins. “Oh fuck yes. Try and stop me.”

#bucktommy #prompt fic #comedy gold #i got the injury from reddit #tevan #kinley #firepilot #firebeast

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theresattrpgforthat · 1 month

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Do ya'll have any recs for school/slice of life ttrpgs with more in depth mechanics for grades, classes, and keeping a school life balance? We really like magic school and slice of life settings but very few ttrpgs we've found have any actual mechanics for the school side of things, rather than just flavor for the free-time portions. Any kinda school works. Thank you!

THEME: Slice of Life Schools

Hello there! I found more games that were closer to this request than I thought, but there's definitely a number that I'd say come with a Your Mileage May Vary caveat. I hope you still find something that works for you!

Academia Or Else!, by liberigothica.

You are students at a local school. Your grade and age do not matter. What does matter is you have no choice. You must go to your classes every weekday, for 8 hours, unless you are sick. But that doesn't mean you must do as you're told.

Academia Or Else is a one page tabletop RPG about playing as a group of students in school, dealing with day to day school troubles like finding a mysterious envelope full of money, or finding the principle's diary, or being sent to detention for one of those first two things.

Academia or Else is grounded in the mundane pieces of school life: bullies, tests, detention, and school events. Your characters are classified as a Goth, Jock, Nerd or Prep, and your skills are represented as letter grades in common classes (Gym, History, Language, Math, and Science). This is a game more about rebelling against some of the rules of academia than it is fitting in, and the game in general gives me some of the same vibes as Breakfast Club.

When it comes to rolling dice, your skills and archetypes are represented by different sided dice: a d10 for an A-level, l, a D4 for an F-level, and so on and so forth. You roll two dice for any given problem, one for your archetype and one for your skills. You are trying to gain a total of 4 or higher on each dice. This means that there are three possible results: success, success with a penalty, and a total penalty. If you want a game that’s quick to learn, you might like this game.

Brit School Hijinks, by Librarians and Leviathans.

You're pupils at a British secondary school, trying to keep life at least a bit interesting and make your own entertainment. Build a den in the rafters of the gym. Raise terrapins in the third-floor bathroom. Brew moonshine with the long-banned solvents in the arts room. Arrange charity concerts. Steal test answers from the Head's safe while disguised as a Swedish piano-tuner. Stage a rebellion against school dinners. Find buried treasure under the rugby pitch. Arrest your physics teacher as a spy. Hide sickly aliens in the lockers. Plot bank robberies. Concoct elaborate schemes to bump into your crush. Bend, not break, the rules. Try different ways to make a difference to the days.

Much of the creation of the school in Brit School Hijinks does a very good job of reminding you that this is a run-of-the-mill school, with problems like needing to borrow money for something important, humorous misunderstandings with your crush, or setting up an elaborate scheme at school to get out of one of your classes. There doesn't need to be magic, monsters, or big world-ending event (although there can be if you want it). As a group, you’ll also decide whether your teachers are hostile, mundane, forgiving, or something else, as well as where you school gets its funding, and what kinds of programs it focuses on. There’s also a quick primer on British high schools in general, for folks who are unfamiliar with what that kind of school life looks like.

When it comes to how the game is run, there’s a focus on your relationships with each-other. How much do your peers trust you? Do the adults approve of you? How cool do other students think you are? You’ll also have a number of skills related to academic classes, which you’ll use when consulting how many dice you can roll for different tasks. From the role-play side of things, your characters also come with motivations - maybe they need to pass chemistry, or they want to ask out their crush. I think there’s the opportunity to make this game very fantastical, but you certainly don’t have to.

Dusk Academy, by Skullery Maids.

Dusk Academy is a spinoff of Blades in the Dark. It uses much of the same systems and mechanics, deviating slightly to fit the setting.

It is set in the hallowed halls of, well, Dusk Academy — a private school on an English island, far away from society. This school caters to girls fresh out of school, unsure of what to do in their futures. Dusk Academy helps these girls sort out their interests and passions, but it is special in its own way. The school is home to magic — and teaches it as part of its curriculum. This fact must remain secret from the rest of the world, but the school aims to provide a healthy environment for students to unleash their mystical potential.

More importantly, the school encourages students to form clubs, to provide a support network of friends throughout their time there. From sports to calligraphy, the world is your oyster.

Forged in the Dark games are very very good at providing you with tools to help you track long term consequences, typically in the form of clocks. You can use clocks to track how close you are to finishing a school project, how much time you have left to study, how long before the school dance, how much stress you’re under, and how far you can push a teacher before they blow their top.

Dusk Academy also uses the faction mechanic from original blades and re-skins them as clubs, creating the clique-ish social organization of a school hierarchy. The phases of the game also map out to the different parts of a school week - lessons during the week, club activities on Wednesdays, free play in the evenings, and extra downtime over the weekends.

If you like working with a bunch of different systems that synchronize kind of like clockwork - then you might want to check out Dusk Academy.

Alchemical Romance, by TrueFeyQueen888.

Alchemical Romance is a TTRPG powered by Caltrop Core. It is a game about young love, teen angst, lo-fi study groups, alchemy, friendship, and magic. Alchemical Romance is about a group of young alchemists getting together to study for their Alchemy Finals, but it is also about what goes on behind the scenes. Alchemical Romance is a game of unexpected friends and being true to yourself.

The characters in Alchemical Romance are different school tropes, such as Athlete, Bookworm, Goth, and Headphones Kid. Part of the game will revolve around maintaining relationships with your classmates, but the other part is focused on preparing for your Alchemy final. The game can be played in a single session “Study Sesh”, a multiple-campaign“Diploma” series, or somewhere in between. There’s a couple of neat tools in here to play around with, including a Burnout track to help you monitor how much stress your character is under, and both relationships and special skills to track how what resources your character has.

Overall the game is rather rules-lite: this is a game for folks who really like social roleplay, first and foremost. I think that it definitely fits the “slice of life” part of your request, but if you pick up Alchemical Romance for your group, you’ll probably want to be putting a number of other rules in to make the game feel more like an engine.

Last Hope, by Wendigo Workshop.

“There is a world, much like our own, where darkness lives. Its influence seeps into our world, corrupting those with a weak soul. That is why The Gift exists. Those with The Gift must travel to The Beyond and free the world from Shadows. But The Gift always comes with a price…

We never know the price, it is never said… we always understand too late. Do not accept The Gift. It is tempting, it seems beautiful, but when something appears too good to be true, it usually is…”Last Hope is a tabletop roleplaying game within which you play as a teenage character trying to fight evil corruption in an alternate version of the world, while also living your daily life as a student. Through a strange contract, you were given The Gift, transforming you into a Magical girl and giving you special powers.

As magical girls, you’ll be juggling school in between missions during a session of Last Hope. However, there are rules in this game for tracking a school day, as well as a roll table to determine whether or not you can stay awake in class, or pass your exams. There’s also downtime rules, which includes taking time out of your precious free hours to work on your schoolwork - rewarding you with a better chance of succeeding at Wit rolls. Since Last Hope is also Caltrop Core, I’m curious as to whether or not you could take a few pieces of this game and combine them with Alchemical Romance to make a more robust game.

Public Wizard High School Teens, by Rexatron Games.

It’s senior year at Wolfboil High…

A public high school for urban and suburban kids who want to do wizard stuff but can’t afford the snooty private school up the hill, on the lake, in the woods. As usual, yet another life-threatening problem has emerged that the highly qualified and experienced (but apathetic) adult staff of wizards is ill equipped to deal with. That leaves you, a scrappy band of dramatic libidinous teenagers to save the day. But there’s also crazy important school stuff to think about AND your life sucks hard because you have your own even more important problems to deal with.

This is a one-page rpg with two different sets of rules, so you can choose which set works best for you. The premise of the game is that there is a villain with an evil plan, but even as your students are trying to stop them, they’ll also have to deal with personal stress and a big event coming up - an event, that if cancelled, could severely effect the staff and/or students of the school. It’s a small inclusion, but the constant reminder of a normal part of school life that your characters care about is a nice reminder that this is in fact, a school.

You Can Also Check Out…

My Spooky Dark Boarding School Recommendation post has a lot of games in it that fit this request to some extent, in particular Precarious Prep and St. Hornbeck’s.

#school #slice of life #tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #game recommendations #dnd #asks #indie ttrpg

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sakumasmut · 4 months

Text

Enstars x Reader NSFW Month Day 23

Alpha!Yuzuru x Omega!Gn!Reader

if everything goes according to plan I’ll have one more fic before the month ends…just gotta make it to the home stretch. for now, enjoy

tags/warnings: abo, breeding, jealous sex, possessiveness, knotting, public sex, rough sex

ao3

Yuzuru impatiently looked back and forth between the large screen displaying a timer, counting down the minutes to the start time, and the soft cotton robe he was wearing, adjusting it to no avail. The cloth itself wasn’t uncomfortable, but the circumstances that led to him wearing it in the first place sure made him feel that way. It was a snug fit—too snug, the outline of his intimates visible if anyone looked at him for more than two seconds. The cut of its neckline practically showed off his entire chest despite him being certain of requesting one in the correct size. It was meant to be revealing, and as such was more of a nuisance to wear than anything else. It was because of this that some people around him had gone nude instead, emanating confidence, which was likely encouraged considering the nature of the event.

Ensemble Square was hosting their first mating season hunt. Preparations began immediately after higher up approval, and the sponsors eagerly grabbed the chance to be part of it. Everything was funded the same day it was announced. The hunt’s rules were simple: A large forest purposefully left undeveloped under the Square’s ownership was cleared out of large wildlife, and the alphas and omegas were separated on opposite ends of the area. Omegas in heat would be sent out and get around ten minutes to split up before alphas, placed randomly in one of four corners, got released to find them. After that it was all up to fate to decide who’d run into who, and whether you’d mate for life or just breed for the season.

It was an event to bring the members of the Square closer together—idols, producers, and staff alike. To finish it off, after all the claiming and mating was done with, the younger idols that weren’t allowed to participate would perform live for everyone to enjoy at the nearby venue. Breeding followed by live performances, what could be better?

Yuzuru volunteered to help with the preparations as usual, as it seemed obvious that an event as big as this needed the extra backstage staff helping behind the scenes to keep everything running smoothly. Besides, he wasn’t one to participate in an event like this. He hated putting himself in the spotlight, not to mention the rumors that would swirl if someone from such a renowned unit as fine would take part, yet the moment Eichi offhandedly mentioned your participation all his plans got flipped over his head.

What were you thinking? Were you that desperate for a mate already that you were going to throw yourself at anyone that found you? Yuzuru tried to convince you to withdraw endlessly during the weeks before the day of the event, but you’d shut him down each time, insisting that you were allowed to make your own decisions. Nothing was working, so he was left to take drastic measures; join it himself and find you to safeguard until the event ended.

There was a gleam and knowing look in Eichi’s eyes when Yuzuru signed the contract to join, but even if he suspected the heir of having a hand in your participation, there was no other option since Eichi kept politely declining to pull you out of the mating hunt, repeating that it would be an abuse of power. Yuzuru could confront him about it later, but right now the butler’s mission was to find you as fast as possible, before any unsuitable alpha’s claimed you. You were much too precious to be giving yourself to anyone who just happened to come across you, only someone fully deserving of your body would be allowed to touch it, he’d make sure of it. As for who exactly fit the criteria for a suitable mate, well, that wasn’t important. Whoever it was surely wasn’t going to get to you before he did.

He concentrated on what he remembered of your scent as the last seconds ticked down. He needed to get to you first. Yuzuru sprinted out of the waiting zone the moment the starting signal was given, dashing through the trees at breakneck speed while trying to sniff you out. It was difficult, the smell of fertile omegas throughout the forest throwing him off. He always suppressed his alpha instincts, so being in a situation like this was making it even harder to control himself.

Already, mewls and whines echoed all around, worrying him that each second that passed was a second he’d be too late. He had to hope the corner he started in was close enough to where you wandered off to. He spotted several other omegas as he kept running, not even giving them the honor of a glance lest he give his alpha the second it needed to demand to knot the nearest omega. He didn’t have to look at their faces to know you weren’t among them. Finally, though, he caught a hint of your scent and hurried in that direction. The bottom of his feet hurt, but he didn’t care, his only concern was you.

Your scent grew stronger and stronger, and he was sure he had found you. Yuzuru turned at a bend and was stopped right in his tracks as he spotted a torn up robe, unmistakably covered in your scent. His blood ran cold as he heard your voice, and he dashed through a few thorny bushes to see your naked body pinned against a tree, someone that wasn’t him groping your body and rubbing their cock against your sex. Yuzuru saw red, and his body moved before his brain could think twice. His hands ripped the other person off of you, throwing them to the ground with a loud thud.

“Get. Away.” He snarled, immediately picking you up in his arms.

“Yuzuru?” You were dazed at the interruption, even more so at his sudden appearance. You blinked at him slowly, unsure if he had actually appeared before your very eyes.

The other alpha was far from happy with the interruption, but Yuzuru just growled out a warning to not follow before running as fast as he could while holding you in a bridal carry. Even though he was more than capable, he wasn’t going to waste time fighting someone. Hopefully the other alpha would cut their losses and claim another needy omega instead of chasing after you. If they did, then that was all the more proof they didn’t deserve you.

All around you, people were fucking to their hearts content. Against trees, on the ground, even just standing up. It made Yuzuru’s heart beat louder in his ears, his mind asking why he wasn’t putting you down and ravaging you like the other alphas. Wasn’t that the whole point of the hunt? No, he had to give you a shred of privacy. He kept running until you got to a small, secluded clearing, hidden away behind some thick bushes. The sound of pairs mating was still audible, but the voices seemed far away enough that you wouldn’t be disturbed.

He set you down on the grass as gently as possible, looking over your naked body for any injuries. He would much rather put you on a plush bed, but this was the most comfortable option for now. Your bare skin had some crescent shaped indents on your waist where fingernails dug into you, but otherwise you were unhurt. A wave of relief washed over him, but still, Yuzuru was upset even recalling the scene he had just saved you from. What would have happened if he were even a minute too late?

“Yuzuru?” You repeated his name, staring at his face. The whole time you were in his arms, you were confused, but welcomed the familiar scent of an alpha you were comfortable with. The beauty mark under his pink eyes made you certain this was indeed the Yuzuru you were familiar with, but something was off. He was smiling, but it wasn’t the smile he wore while performing on stage, nor was it the smile he had when he was at peace, making you tea. He was angry. Angrier than you had ever seen him before.

“Did you think I’d let anyone else have you?” The icy tone of his voice starkly contrasted the fire blazing in his heart. “Putting yourself in a situation where you can’t even choose who breeds you, how idiotic can you be?”

His hands cupped your face, making you look him in the eyes. You could see the mix of primal desire and anger, a jarring contrast to his scent, that of freshly folded laundry that reminded you of home. Even when he looked like a predator about to devour his prey, you didn’t want to run. It was the opposite, you wanted to press yourself right against his fangs.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s my fault.” His voice dropped dangerously low. “For not claiming you sooner.”

His tongue licked the side of your neck once, the sole warning you got for what came next. His fangs sank deep into your neck, drawing blood and breaking your scent gland. You gasped in pain and surprise, the static in your head from being in heat suddenly amplified tenfold. His inner alpha howled happily, finally getting what it wanted after spending who knows how long being contained by stupid things like manners and civility. The only suitable mate for you was himself. All he wanted to do was to keep his omega safe, and what better way to ensure it than to have you bonded to him forever?

You were panting when he finally pulled his teeth away, licking the puncture he had left on your neck. It stood out clearly for everyone to see you were claimed, just looking at it was satisfying. Yet Yuzuru wasn’t done, far from it. He grabbed you by the waist, careful not to scratch you, and flipped your body to push you onto your hands and knees. You didn’t listen to him before this whole mess began, how could he expect you to follow his commands? What a disobedient omega you were, he had to put you in your place, to really make sure you remembered who you belonged to now.

“Stay.” He growled out when you shifted around uncomfortably, sharp eyes staring at you when you looked back at him. Right now, he wasn’t a servant. He was the master—your master. You whimpered at his command, but nodded, not making any moves against him. Your palms dug into the dirt as he pushed your legs apart, hole dripping with slick and clenching in anticipation.

“You’re already so wet for me.” He breathed in your scent, the smell of your sex driving him mad. “Just begging to be filled.”

His thumbs pulled the skin of your hole taut, lining his aching red cock up to your entrance. You barely registered his weight on top of you, forcing you to brace your limbs against the ground. All you could focus on was when he sunk into you with one stroke, making you gasp as you immediately clenched around his cock. Your walls tried to cling onto his penetrating warmth, but your wetness allowed him to slip back out just as easily as he pushed himself in, leaving you empty for the split second it took to ram his length back inside you. His hands raised your hips up as high as they could go, gripping them tightly as he plowed into you, not even giving you time to adjust. The cries you let out were the sweetest noises to his ears, it made him want to drag every sound out of you, until your voice went hoarse.

“So, so tight.” He growled. “You’re just sucking me right in. Do you want to be bred this badly?”

Any attempts you made at responding came out incoherent, body simply buckling under his thrusts.

“I know you don’t listen, but keeping your legs spread is simple enough to follow, right?”

You nodded, eyes glazed over with pleasure. You weren’t sure if you even had the willpower to close them if you wanted to. He was pleased with your reaction, speeding up even more.

“That’s right, just let me do all the work. When I’m done with you, you’ll be full with an entire litter.”

Now he knew why people loved joining these hunts. All the primal, animalistic urges he had withheld, the desires he didn’t even know he had, were free. Nothing felt more right than just slamming his cock inside you over and over again, his knot swelling up as his growls grew louder. This was what he was born to do, and your body was made to be molded into the shape of his dick.

“I’m the only one that can make you feel this way. The only one allowed to fuck you, bite you, pleasure you—I’ll kill anyone else that tries.”

“Y-Yuzu—!” You threw your head back as you came, and his response to your walls clenching around him was to slam into you harder and harder, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body.

His knot kept catching on your entrance, denied entry as it continued to swell. He growled, feeling his own climax coming, but delaying it until he was locked into you. There was no point in finishing if he couldn’t guarantee his seed ended up inside you, so he just kept rutting against your ass, the sound of skin slapping skin the only thing in his ears. You were clawing at the grass as if trying to get away, dirt getting beneath your nails. It felt good, but it was too much for your body to handle. A whine left your throat to try and tell him as much, but he just pulled your ass closer to his crotch.

“Almost done.” He grunted. “Just need to stretch a bit more for me, okay? You can do it, you can take my knot. Then you’ll take my seed, my kids—our kids.”

Your eyes rolled back in your head as you felt another orgasm coming, whether you were ready for it or not. You weren’t even sure if your body was ready for his knot, it certainly didn’t feel like it, yet in a matter of seconds he forced it inside you anyways. Thankfully you were too focused on your second climax to feel any pain. His knot firmly locked itself inside you, and he howled as he unloaded all his seed into you. No excess was going to escape now that you were plugged up, and hopefully it would take from how tightly you clenched around him.

Yuzuru didn’t completely still as he let his cum spurt into you, he coaxed more to come out with gentle rolls of his hips, your own following his movements thanks to his knot.

“Does it hurt?” He asked gently, squeezing your hand with his own. This was the Yuzuru you were familiar with.

“I-It’s just a bit uncomfy.”

He shifted your bodies to lay on your sides, his arm acting as a cushion for your shoulders.

“Better?”

You nodded. He was much more tender with you than he was just a moment ago, and you wondered if this was still the same Yuzuru that had made it clear that he was your alpha, that had given you the fucking of a lifetime. Both sides you had seen of him were the same man, and even if his rough side was unexpected, you weren’t against it at all.

“The knot will deflate in a few minutes, so for now avoid moving excessively.”

He untied his robe, pulling it over you to warm you up as much as possible. Not that you needed it from how warm your body still was, especially around your belly, where all his seed was safely locked inside you, sure to impregnate you. Being in Yuzuru’s arms, stuck on his cock, naked, sweaty, and on the ground of a semi-public forest, you couldn’t help but laugh at the situation.

“What’s funny?”

“I knew you’d find me.”

Your heart was set on Yuzuru from the beginning, but knowing him, he was never going to even think about dating you. Your plan was risky, and being found by another alpha first wasn’t part of it, but it all turned out as you had hoped—bonded to him forever, and maybe having his kids if you were lucky. He let out a sigh, pulling you closer to him.

“Master Eichi knew, didn’t he?”

“Yup.”

“I’ll have very strong words for him once we’re done here.”

For now though, he was content with wrapping his new mate in a warm embrace.

#esxreadernsfwmonth2024 #enstars smut #ensemble stars smut #enstars x reader smut #yuzuru fushimi smut #nsft es!!

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