#now i’m thinking of ouroboros again

[xbuster]

ayane

[crossbackpoke-check]

re last answer: please don't stop, being very unhinged about these two pretty white boys is helping distract me from the sharks losing streak rn so bring it on

https://www.tumblr.com/bondedpairs/764566430180147200?source=share

(sideblog woes but there's the link for you) anyway in the vid they talk about going over to each other's houses to have dinner and things and while that is a delicious example of their codependence i love it bc through an rpf lens there is definitely some old man ******* going on. they can have the dilfs and each other.

(someone else mentioned kept boys which i could write an essay on but i fear being Perceived™️)

anyway if you have anything to add to this please do, if not ignore me and i will hide under a rock until the stress-related insanity has worn off and i am a functioning member of society once more 😂

- @bondedpairs

ty for the video!!! and please, WRITE THE KEPT BOYS ESSAYYYY i promise i will read it with my hands over my eyes if you don’t want to be perceived. do it scared!! do it anyway!! we’ll all love you for it!!!

[gilbirda]

Ouroboros

Sequel to "Another Harley Quinn"

Go to the first fic: "Deal"

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

[Read on AO3][Read on FF]

---

She was running.

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

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

That’s when she saw it.

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

(Nothing was really home since Danny—)

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

It had a face.

It opened its mouth, jaw unhinged, and screamed.

***

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

“Easy there, love.”

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

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

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

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

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

Not that Bruce would care about things like that.

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

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

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

“Again?”

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

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

“Elaborate.”

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

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

“Jason.”

He looked up at his father. “What?”

“Elaborate.”

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

No. It wasn’t because of him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop what?”

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

They looked at each other in tense silence.

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

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

There it is.

I don't like her.

I don’t trust her.

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

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

“We are a package deal, Bruce.”

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

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

“I know.” He grumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

“She killed her own parents.”

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

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

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

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

“It still doesn’t justify—”

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

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

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

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

It had been all him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A cover up by who?”

“What? The GIW, obviously.”

Did he not know?

Wait.

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

He doesn't know.

“Bruce?”

“They were supported by the GIW?”

He really doesn’t know.

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

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

“Did she know? Did she allow it?”

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

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

“And Danny—”

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

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

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

“They could have called the Justice League.”

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

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

He doesn’t know, he doesn’t know.

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

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

“How do you—”

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

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

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

Bruce’s mouth twisted a bit.

“I didn’t know.”

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

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

***

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

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

“I know you are scared of me.”

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

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

Yeah, right.

“Really. I don’t hurt children.”

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

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

“Am I that scary?”

Tim almost missed the quiet question.

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

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

Her eyes. He didn’t like her eyes.

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

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

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

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

“B didn’t tell you?”

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

“There you go, then.”

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

Jazz hummed.

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

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

"Well?"

She smiled. "Why would I tell you?"

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

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

Dislike.

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

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

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

"You are such a curious bug, huh."

Again she looked at him without really seeing him.

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

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

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

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

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

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

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

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

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

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

"What’s wrong?" He asked her.

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

“Just spit it out.”

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

“Everything okay at school?”

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

What was her angle?

“Why would I tell you?”

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

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

“School’s good, but boring.”

“Boring?”

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

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

“Any friends?”

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

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

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

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

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

“What—”

“Do it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

One down, three more to go.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Batman didn’t look pleased.

***

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

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

A fight about her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wanted to make you an offer.”

She arched an eyebrow. “An offer?”

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

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

“And?”

“I think we can benefit each other.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll think about it.”

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Darling?”

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

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

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

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

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

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

“I love you too, and—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey.”

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

“Feeling better?”

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

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

“Let’s talk.”

She nodded. “Talia came to see me.”

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

“She made me an offer.”

“You know her offers—”

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

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

“But she made a good point.”

“She told you to break up with me?”

Jazz hummed. “Something like that.”

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

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

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

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

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

Seconds ticked by in the quiet kitchen.

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

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

“Okay?”

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

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

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

A few tears went down her cheeks as she nodded.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was also what Danny would have done.

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

“I can help you. My name is Jazz.”

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

“A rogue attack?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something was very wrong.

“Jazz?”

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

“I…” Her voice was rough. “Jason…”

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

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

“Is she okay?”

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

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

“Immediately, sir.”

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

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

“Her?”

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

“My mother.”

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

“She’s dead.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What does that mean?” He asked anyway.

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

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

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

“Is she going to be a problem?”

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

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

Even Alfred looked at Jason with worry.

“We have to—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

It was the only thing they did lately.

And it was always about her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you hear us?”

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

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

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

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

“Master Bruce?”

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

“How did it go?”

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

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

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

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

Right. They were staying the night.

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

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

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

“Just checking on you.” He lied.

She smiled, knowing that it was a lie.

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

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

“Please sit.”

“I don’t think—”

“Sit.”

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

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

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

In Jasmine, that truth looked cold and hurt.

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

“We need those weapons.” She opened.

“I know. The League—”

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s… That’s the deal.”

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

He wanted to scoff and walk out of the room.

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

It was a threat. It should be a threat.

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

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

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

“What did Jason tell you?”

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

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

“What are you talking about?”

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

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

“That idiot. What did he promise you?”

She truly didn’t know. Huh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jasmine never cried. She never begged.

And she never looked like this.

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

***

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

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

You won’t like the person I become.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’m done fighting, Bruce.

Just don’t hurt him anymore.

Hurt him? He wasn’t—

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

If Jason could just listen—

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good morning, Master Jason.”

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

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

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

Jasmine hummed and quietly followed him out of the kitchen.

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

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

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

Jasmine had flinched.

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

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

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

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

And she was terrified of Bruce.

The thought made him stop.

Jasmine was terrified of him?

Is that why Jason was acting like… like this?

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

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

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

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

“Alfred.”

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

“Why do I feel like a villain?”

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

He hadn’t, had he?

It’s just—

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

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

Or Bruce was wrong.

About her, about everything.

“What do I do?”

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

They still had to convince the Justice League.

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

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

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

“I’m positive.”

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

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

“I know.”

“I want to go with you.”

“You can’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just wanted one.”

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

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

Time to make her case.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He would have loved the Watchtower.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He cleared his throat, calling everyone’s attention.

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

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

Someone swallowed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

Danny wasn’t there.

Danny was—

“Jasmine.”

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

“Yes?”

“We have decided.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She looked aside, feeling uncomfortable with her thoughts.

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

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

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

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

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

He went first, Jazz followed.

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

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

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

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

She chuckled at the situation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She opened it.

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

Jazz screamed, one hand rushing to her mouth.

She knew what this was.

How?

Why?

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

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

How?

How?

“Jazz? Talk to me. Breathe.”

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

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

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

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

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

But Danny wasn't here anymore.

The piece of rock was warm to the touch.

Danny is dead.

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

Danny is dead.

“I can't feel you.”

***

“They're taking their sweet time huh?”

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

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

“Oh finally.”

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

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

He turned towards his next best target.

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

Bruce had already removed his cowl. He looked tired.

“I didn't do anything. Calm down.”

“Did the League say no?”

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

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

“Then what—?”

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

Danny is dead.

Danny has been dead and gone for a while.

How long?

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

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

“Need some water?”

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

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

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

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

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

“My brother is dead.”

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

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

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

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

She had grieved. She had done her time.

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

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

It was used. Cracked. Dull.

Dick hummed again and this time she finally looked up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Danny would never have that.

Danny was dead.

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

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

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

Jazz already knew this, but nodded in encouragement.

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

“It wasn't your fault.”

Even as she said the words she understood the irony.

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

“Danny is gone.”

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like a car battery?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Danny was gone and he wasn’t coming back.

Maybe it was time for her to move on.

***

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

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

But she was not that person anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jason was there every step of the way.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What can I say? I dig it.”

Sam groaned while Tucker and Dick chuckled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was okay. She was alive.

It’s what Danny would have wanted.

---

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Helloooooo again! Hope you are doing well! I have a request for some fics and I was wondering if you happen to know if there are any where Aziraphale and Crowley get married in Vegas after a drunk night (this is a very specific niche so if you can’t find any that is perfectly ok!) and it doesn’t even have to be in Vegas, just accidental marriage fics are cool too. Thank you!

Hi! Here are some drunken Las Vegas marriage fics...

to have and to hold, probably by seventhstar (G)

They have long, drawn out arguments about this, if they can even be termed arguments; onlookers inevitably describe their tone of voice as 'fond' and their mode of communication as 'bickering'. The wine is passed back and forth between them. Marriage, Aziraphale argues, is divine. It's about love. It's about making promises, and keeping them. It's about faith and hope and devotion. Marriage, Crowley replies, is infernal. It gives two people who love each other endless opportunities to ruin it. It's about power and money and pain; it's caused more evil than it ever has good. Or, the one where they get drunk married in Las Vegas.

Waking Up In Vegas by Supergeek21 (T)

Crowley and Aziraphale wake up hungover after a night out in Vegas.

Ouroboros by FriendOfLoki (T)

“We should get married!” Crowley blurts out. His face is burning the moment the words leave his mouth and enter into the night. He’s not quite sure how he got here. Or, the story of how Aziraphale and Crowley drunkenly marry each other one night in Las Vegas.

Oops! by Mimsynims (E)

This must be a dream. A fantastic, soul-crushing dream. That’s the only explanation. Right? “Aziraphale, did you hear me?” Bugger. Not a dream. “Pardon, what was that?” Aziraphale reluctantly dragged his eyes from the simple yet perfect ring on his left hand. A ring that matched the one on Crowley’s left hand. His friend, Crowley. Best friends Aziraphale and Crowley are on holiday in Las Vegas. After a getting a bit too drunk the night before, they wake up with wedding rings on their fingers. Sounds like it should be easily dealt with, or is it..?

Veni Vino Vegas (I Came, I Got Drunk, I Got Married) by A_N_D (T)

After a whirlwind drunken evening, author Az Fell came home from Rom-Con without his heirloom pinkie ring – but with a wedding license from a 24-hour Las Vegas chapel. Elsewhere, book fan Tony Crowley woke up with a hangover, vague memories, and a brand new ring he’s only seen in author photos. Mutually attracted, mutually terrified the other one thinks it was all a regrettable mistake, they turn to their dear but anonymous online friend to vent and ask for advice. …Maybe they should tell each other their screennames someday.

Waking Up Married by Caedmon (E)

"So you’re telling me that my options are either to convince this man I just met and drunkenly married to stay married to me for six months or lose two thirds of a billion pounds?” “That’s exactly what I’m telling you,” Fergus said. “Fucking shit,” Crowley spat. He hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment before rubbing his eyes with his fists. Now his job would be twice as hard. He needed to talk Aziraphale into staying married for six months. Should he try begging or bribing? This was a huge ask, and Aziraphale would be well within his rights to tell Crowley to fuck off. But Crowley was prepared to offer him pretty much anything, up to half of the trust, if that’s what it took. He didn’t care. But that was only part of his concern. Even if he got insanely lucky and Aziraphale agreed to stay legally married to him for the next six months, how the hell was he going to talk Aziraphale into dating him during that time? And was it foolish to even try? One thing at a time, he decided. First, he needed to convince Aziraphale to stay legally married to him. Then he could set about wooing his husband. He hoped.

- Mod D

[dragonchicken]

Say no more.

Anti-Hero, rweoutofthewoods on ao3. Regulus survives.

Youngblood, same author, Jegulus meet in juvie and meet again nine years later when Sirius introduces his little brother, whom he believes James has never met.

Pathological people pleaser and basically anything else by rweoutofthewoods. They’re on tumblr as well and have a few wips up their sleeve, not yet 10 chapters long, but looks like they’re going there.

Art Heist, Baby!, otrtbs on ao3. Exactly as the title says. James gets thrown into a world of crime.

Debated whether or not to add Crimson Rivers by bizarrestars since most if not all know it, but adding it now if not. Same goes for Just Lovers (like we were supposed to be) and Best Friend’s Brother by the same author.

Drugs and surgical scrubs, anauro on ao3. Unfinished, wip, updated in April. Still adding it here, it’s 28/45 chapters done.

step into the daylight and let it go, serendipitysirius on ao3. Regulus survives. James is raising Harry alone after losing Lily.

Kill Your Darlings, MesserMoon on ao3. College au.

Choices, same author.

Snakes and Lions, her_smile_forges_galaxies on ao3. Remus is sorted into Slytherin and befriends Regulus. It’s also Wolfstar, but 127 chapters and about 700k words.

A Star for Summer’s Day, same author.

Meetings That Start In The Dark, writingamarie on ao3.

Anything by damagecontrol on ao3.

Carpe Noctem, evareinadeescocia on ao3. On haitus, but it’s already 700k words long and about 50 chapters. Last updated in March.

Many Are The Stars I See (But In My Eye No Star Like Thee), raynick11 on ao3. Shortest one on this list, 60k words and 12 chapters.

Mastermind, pieceofchocolate on ao3. Muggle Politics au.

Regulus Black and the Horcrux Hunt, maraudeer on ao3. 11 chapters an 70k words, last updated September, 2023.

Whatever happened to the young, young lovers?, georgia_sk on ao3. Regulus survives, defeats Voldemort singlehandedly and shows up at an Order meeting to announce his death.

Thieves, Waterloo on ao3. Ongoing, 200k words and 17/50 chapters done but last updated December 13th.

Ouroboros, futomomo on ao3. Regulus time travel fic, wip, last updated April with 16 chapters and 150k words.

You Signed Up For This, Solmussa on ao3.

Pink Lemonade, moonsybookshelf on ao3. Marauders Band au. Regulus is a photographer.

Like Real People Do, Arins_Writings on ao3. Time travel au.

Ogni Parte É Viva (Every Part Is Alive), euphorial_docx on ao3.

I tried to avoid unfinished wips but added a few that seemed interesting. All of these are on ao3, and I can whip up more if you’d like. Most of them also on ao3, but some others I can think of are on fanfiction.net.

YOU ARE AN ANGEL SENT FROM THE HIGHEST HEAVENS FOR ME I LOVE YOU.

i’m on chapter two of choices right now and i tried to read art heist baby but i couldn’t find the right author and i didn’t want to read something stolen/copied ya know?

but seriously i owe you thank you so much :)

[soullessjack]

i don’t think there’s anything new I can add to the performative-jack studies because it’s like..very cut and dry, guy who’s constantly perceived as a threat does his best to seem innocuous and friendly..but there is an underlying layer of exactly how jack tries to present himself to others (that I’ve definitely already posted about but whatever).

soo like. take this outline for example:

Jack: “He still has to be killed.” Cas: “Doing that might kill Dean as well, so [I] doubt any of [us] would be willing to do that.” Jack: “I would.”

‘Cas is a little shocked by how calmly Jack says this, and Jack says he knows what Cas is thinking; that this is Lucifer’s gene pool talking. It’s not. “I’m not my father. I’m not my mother. I’m me.”

“You’re all so focused on saving Dean, but Dean is Michael’s vessel. There’s a good chance Dean isn’t even alive. Is Jimmy Novak still alive?* Could anyone save him? It’s Michael. And Michael has to die.” ‘Cas stares at Jack, who looks coldly collected.

post-war jack is straight up traumatized and jaded by everything he’s seen and experienced in apocalypse world, still making efforts to be kind and sympathetic of course, but with a bit more edge to him now. for six months he’s been fixated on killing Michael, and he’s way more willing to do the Hard Thing (kill Dean) than he might’ve been before to do so (which actually reminds me a LOT of the chicken/snake story from ouroboros but we won’t get off subject).

obviously he still cares about/loves Dean, we’ve seen that in the rest of S14, but he’s also seen what Michael did to another world and wouldn’t put anything before preventing that. *he’s also very willing to hit Cas where it hurts with the Jimmy comment

but the thing that sticks out is Castiel immediately assuming that Jack’s calm, cold collectedness in the way he talks about killing Dean/Michael is somehow evidence of Lucifer’s influence or heritage; that Jack couldn’t possibly feel this way by himself. even Jack refutes it, stating that he’s neither of his parents (ie, it’s his own decision to kill Dean if it’s necessary). I think it’s also interesting he mentioned not being his mother, because I think that’s why Cas is so surprised by his demeanor and jumps to attribute it to Lucifer.

from day one Kelly’s heritage was the only argument Sam and Cas had against the idea that Jack would be evil. to be fair, Jack does take after Kelly a lot; he even looks like her to some extent. but treating Kelly’s heritage as the It-factor that makes Jack good, treating him as basically an extension of Kelly who must be good and kind because she was good and kind (literally an inverse of how Lucifer’s heritage is treated) is still just dehumanizing.

the distrust he faces is understandable coming from AU Bobby and people who are being actually displaced and exterminated by Michael, but the fact that Jack is subject to the same scrutiny from his own chosen father as well adds to why he represses these parts of himself so much, why he puts on that naive nuclear-son personality and basically butters everyone up all the time.

I think the only times when Jack has actually unmasked himself were at points of extreme low empathy, because most of the time his facade is put on for the sake of other people and the fear they feel towards him. he obviously wouldn’t have to worry about that while he’s human, but like I said, he’s literally a war veteran/criminal by this point. he’s gonna have a little more edge to him than before, and a little less empathy for the small things.

the second and probbaly more obvious one is his behavior while soulless, completely lacking the empathy required to care about keeping up his facade—so much so that he just bluntly tells Mary that he’s annoyed by everyone eggshell-walking around him like he’s a time bomb again. then, *checks script* like a flip switched, he goes back to that facade and reassures Mary that he knows they’re doing it out of love. He’s blatantly performing his emotional responses now.

jack is still soulless for like…three (?) episodes in S15, and still incapable of really feeling any emotion despite being able to logically process them. like he is literally so empty inside that he resorts to binge eating to feel some kind of sensation. but he’s consistently playing up the happy-go-lucky shtick when he isn’t just depressed and withdrawn (especially the church basement scene where he immediately gets the dumb Bambi look when he sees Cas after his failed cannibalism attempt).

got a headache while writing this so I’ll just leave it here but like. A Lot of the reason why Jack performs so much is because specific traits he shows are not only taken as threats, but are also associated with Lucifer and treated as signs of his “true nature” <- click that link it’s important for context

Mk that’s all byeeee (*´ -`)

[smeg-and-the-red]

Smegtober Day 15: Virus

(prompts by @strange-and-off-putting)

word count: 587

A/N: Set in the middle of series 7, between Ouroboros and Epideme. Warning for illness and mentions of past illness.

Krissie sneezes. It feels like the thousandth time this hour, at least. She groans and wipes her nose in one of the horrible JMC issued tissues. They were probably doing more harm than good, but she’d sooner let her face be slowly eroded by the rough, scratchy things than allow the others to see her with her nose dripping like a tap. She dreads to wonder what they must think of her. 

   On this ship, with these men, it felt like she was fresh out of the academy all over again. She was the new recruit, determined to prove herself and show that she is capable of anything. She sighs heavily and lets herself sink into her pillow, drawing the blankets up around her. It’s just typical that she’d managed to pick something like this up the very first time she’d gone to check out a derelict with the boys. The last thing she’d wanted was to appear soft, yet here she was. Defeated by a simple illness.

   Her door hisses open softly, and Krissie looks around to see Lister coming through with a cup of water and a steaming bowl of something. He smiles at her, “hiya.”

   She sniffs, “hello.”

   Lister approaches her, perching the water on her bedside table and holding out the bowl to her, “it’s chicken and mushroom. Careful, it’s hot.”

   Krissie sits up and carefully takes the bowl from him, resting it on the blanket in her lap. It doesn’t look quite right. She eyes him, “we don’t have chicken or mushrooms on board.”

   Lister can’t quite hide his amusement at her suspicion, “well, it’s from a packet, like. You just add water and heat it up.”

   She huffs, picking up the spoon and slowly starting to eat.

   He sits on the edge of her bed and watches her, not saying anything for a moment. Krissie frowns, “what?”

   He shrugs, “you’re looking better, is all.”

   She sniffs again, “I don’t feel better.”

   “Yeah, but you’re over the worst of it now, I reckon.”

   She lets out a sarcastic hum and continues eating. She expects Lister to leave her again. When he doesn't, she speaks up, unable to keep the exasperation from her tone, “I wish you wouldn’t hover. You’re worse than Kryten is with you.”

   “Sorry.” He doesn’t look very sorry, but he does stand up, “I’ve just been worrying. You really weren’t well, you know.”

   “I’m aware,” she responds dryly. She rips another tissue from the box beside her and blows her nose. Lister winces in sympathy.

   Krissie sighs, picking up the spoon once more, “you remind me of my Dave, the first time I got sick after stasis. He was the very same as you are now.” She feels the familiar pang of loneliness whenever she remembers her ship, her boys. Lister looks uncomfortable, he always does when she mentions her Dave.

   “Not exactly the same,” he says quietly, as though unsure if he should be saying it, “he couldn’t touch you.”

   Krissie’s fingers tighten around the spoon, “no. He couldn’t.”

   The air fills with a heavy silence. Krissie feels Lister’s eyes on her still, but she keeps her gaze directed at her bowl. She sees little lumps of powder that Lister didn’t quite manage to whisk away.

   “Right,” he says, “I’ll… leave you to it, then.”

   She nods without looking up, “Thank you. And thank you for the soup.”

   Lister lingers in the doorway, “S’alright. Feel better soon, yeah?”

   Krissie hums. The door slides shut with another soft hiss.

[carebeartherese]

My live reactions to Loki ep 4:

(Already 7 mins in and I’m angry with Kang)

-hell yea the clock lady wants you (what the fuck)

-mobius and Loki are very boyfriends rn

-shit the loom

-LOKI LOOKED AT MOBIUS’ HAND

-sorry

-I love this Victor timely fella tbh

-oh fuck dox

-B15 my love <333

-no don’t let dox live

-oooooo words

-Víctor is so autism

-ob and Casey <3333

-ob and victor meeting each others idles

-snake eating it’s own tail= Ouroboros

-FANGIRLING

-CASEY JEALOUS??

-mobius is so sweet

-NOT THE BIGASS SUIT THING AGAIN POOR MOBIUS

-lmfao petty ob

-hahahahah VOLUNTEER LOKI

-skin?

-mobius and Loki fighting like an old couple is my favorite

-Sylvie = third wheel

-Loki is in fact super fast

-ooop victor is think

-Casey and ob are so bf coded

-CASEY IS THE OTHER WOMAN NOW

-PIE DATE 2???

-sylvie pls let them be a couple

-dude this bitch

-CALLING OUT MOBIUS FR

-HE HASNT LOOKED CAUSE HE LOVES LOKI HE WANTS TO STAY WITH HIM

-MOBIUS AND SYLVIE FACING OFF WHILE LOKI STANDS IN THE BACKGROUND IS ACTUALLY PEAK CINEMA

-WHO WILL HE CHOOSE

-pie pls

-LOKI YOU CHOSE HER???

-oh brad

-shit

-please don’t start a prison riot

-don’t bring Galileo into this

-Stfu dox

-uhhhh this tension is strange

-B15 !!!!!!

-brad doing the same hand-resting thing with his collar

-PIE TIME

-wait sylvie gtfo

-ohhhh please let them fight about MOBIUS

-Loki monologue incoming

-lmfao Thor mocking

-also Loki character development???

-yea those people live because of his lover

-damn wise words ig

-I don’t like them as a couple please don’t let this happen again

-yea sylvie thats kinda the point of hope

-i don’t hate her she’s just annoying on occasion

-anyways

-ok but you are gods tho

-thx Loki also back tf up

-MOVE ON /SRS

-damn that pie room is the real star or the show

-fuck dox srsly

-NO NO RAVONNA STOP

-also crazy bitch Ms minutes honorable mention

-SHES WORKING ON HERSELF OK

-oh shit life on the timeline?? Fr???

-oh fuck no you crazy bitches

-WHAT ARE THEY DOING

-BRAD NO

-FUCK DONT SQUISH THEM

-NO PLEASE OMFG RAVONNA

-MS MINUTES WHY ARE YOU PSYCHOTIC

-Brad that was fuckin cold

-see even ravonna doesn’t actually give a fuck who you are brad

-Casey x OB x Timely???

-It’s hotchoc victor

-I love victor

-mobius is so supportive

-what’s happening with the tempads tho???

-oh sorry b15 it’s people goo now

-MS MINUTES STOP THIS AINT SUPPOSED TO BE HORROR

-Aw he made the guard hot coco

-OH FUCK

-BRAD WHAT THE HELL YOU CUNT

-IT WAS SO WHOLESOME UNTIL YOU SHOWED UP

-MOBIUS AND VIRUSES LMFAO

-shit Ms minutes

-stawp

-loki and mobius need more screen time together

-this feels much scarier than it should tbh

-ohhh….hey ravonna….sorry about all that

-oh shit ok

-mommy? Sorry, mommy? Sorry-

-brad please relax with your 70s hair

-TIMELY DONT BE A DICK PLS

-RUN LOKI RUN

-oh fuck this is it ig

-real Ms minutes sucks

-shits getting real

-loki is gonna get pruned by himself

-sylvie constantly plays elevator music in her soul

-this is where Loki gets pruned!!!! Probably by himself

-yup I was right prune yourself

-damn sylvie strong

-good job loki???

-sorry just had to kill past me rq

-WHOS calling???

-and th e call was coming from IsIdE tHe HoUsE

-oh dammit ob you scared me

-mobius is so worried about his boyfriend he’s willing to reboot the whole system

-LET THE LOKIS USE THEIR POWERS SRSLY

-BYE MS MINUTES

-Aw poor timely they aren’t mocking you

-OH SHIT

-you’ll never be him.

-that shit was menacing fr

-oh DONT send brad out on his own!!!

-he gonna die

-fuck that was kinda hot ngl

-anyways hi sylvie/brad

-FUCK YEA SCREW YOU RAVONNA

-lokius has had way too few scenes today

-loki <333

-oh thank god

-OH THERE IS NO GOD

-THE LOOM

-oh loki please be safe

-don’t send timely out pls

-no dont!!!

-TIMELY PLS DONT DIE

-OH SHIT BLACK HOLE SPAGHETTI

-NO TIMELY PLEASE

-GOD HOW FIX PLS

-NO BAD LOKI

-STAY PUT PLEASE

-DUDE

-THIS SHIT IS TERRIFYING

-B15 MY LOVE

-OH FUCK WHY IS IT DARK

-WHAT THE HELL WHAT JUST HAPPENED

-THAT IS AN UNFAIR CLIFFHANGER

-COME BACK

[lokiondisneyplus]

SPOILER ALERT! This Q&A contains spoilers for Season 2 of Loki.

Season 2 of Marvel Studios’ Loki expands upon the inner workings of the Time Variance Authority, where the God of Mischief has been working tirelessly to save, well, all of time.

That includes introducing new characters, like Ke Huy Quan‘s Ouroboros. As the TVA’s dedicated handyman, everything inside the institution was either created by him or is currently maintained by him. When Loki and Mobius enter his workshop, they become his first visitors in 400 years.

Little do they know, Ouroboros is an integral part of their quest to prevent the branches of time from overloading the Temporal Loom.

Following the end of the actors strike and on the heels of the Loki Season 2 finale, Quan spoke with Deadline about joining the Marvel Cinematic Universe, his character Ouroboros, and his own full circle career moment.

DEADLINE: It’s so great to get to talk with you about Loki. You haven’t really been able to talk about your role, due to the actors strike. What have you been waiting to say?

KE HUY QUAN: When I decided to become an actor again, [being part of the MCU] was at the top of my wishlist…They all welcomed me with wide open arms, and I was so happy. I was patiently waiting for the show to come out so we can go and celebrate it and tell the fans. Then, of course, the strike happened. I just want to tell everybody how proud of the show I am. How happy I am with it. And working with Tom Hiddleston, Owen Wilson, the entire Loki family has just been incredible. We made this last year in London. I was there for four months, my wife and I were there. It was one of the best four months of my life. I’ve done a few shows before, and this was the first time where I didn’t want it to end. I was so happy. In fact, I’ll tell you this. We were scheduled for reshoots this February, and I was waiting. My wife and I were looking forward to spending more time in London and with our Loki family. And all of a sudden we were told, ‘Oh, we don’t need any reshoots. It’s all good.’ I was kind of disappointed. I was actually disappointed that we didn’t get to go back because of how much fun we had… So we made history. We make history two times. One is the first series of Marvel getting a second season and the second is the first time a Marvel show didn’t have any reshoots. I’m so proud of that.

DEADLINE: It is quite a feat to not have any reshoots. So that was probably one of the few times you were excited for reshoots.

QUAN: A lot of times actors dread doing reshoots, because you have to go back. You have to get back into character. But for this, I was really happy. I was looking forward to it. It’s so ironic, because the more I wanted to do, it’s like, ‘Oh, we don’t need it.’ But this is a testament to how great the show is and to how great a Leader Tom Hiddleston is. Working with him has been incredible. It was such a masterclass on how to be a great actor, a great leader, and most importantly, a great human being. He is so kind and humble.

DEADLINE: When you first read the script, what did you think of your character, Ouroboros? What were you hoping you could bring to him?

QUAN: Well, first of all, when I read the script, I instantly fell in love with Ouroboros. It was so well defined on the pages, and I can see him right away. This character was not based on comic books, so it was created by our showrunner Kevin Wright and our head writer Eric Martin… I instantly wanted to play him. And I remember this was at a time when Everything, Everywhere All At Once had just came out. It was paying only in New York and in Los Angeles. My agent said, ‘You’re gonna get a call from Kevin Feige tomorrow.’ Now you have to understand, when I became an actor again, joining the MCU was at the top of my wishlist. I was so excited and I said, ‘Could this be it?’ I was driving. I picked up the phone. And on the other end I hear, ‘Hi Ke. This is Kevin Feige.’ He went on to talk about how much he loved our movie and how much he loved my performance. Then finally he says, ‘Ke we would love for you to join the MCU family.’ I was driving at that time. I start tearing up, and I couldn’t see the road anymore. I said, ‘Kevin, can you give me two seconds?’ I pulled the car over, put it in park and I said, ‘Please continue.’ He says, ‘We have this great character for you, Ouroboros. I really love him, and I think you will be perfect to play him.’ He told me about Loki. He told me about the MCU. He spoke [with] so much passion and enthusiasm in his voice. It brought me back to the day when I met him for the very first time on the X-Men set when he was just an associate producer, and I was an assistant action choreographer…He loves this universe so much. He has such a vast knowledge of this universe. And little did I know only 23 years later, I get to work with him. I get to play a wonderful character.

DEADLINE: I’m glad you mentioned that. It is quite the full circle moment.

QUAN: You know, that’s why I love the name Ouroboros. It’s s a snake eating its own tail. I had a wonderful time working with Kevin on set. It was at a time where I didn’t think I would ever step in front of the camera again. It was also the time where I questioned whether I would have a career working behind the camera. It was when I just graduated from USC film school. I didn’t know what I was going to do. I knew I didn’t want to leave this industry. I love it so much. So to be able to do that and to come back again in front of the camera… I’m very fortunate.

DEADLINE: Your comedic timing is so spot on in Loki. I’m thinking of the scene where Ouroboros manages to recreate the Tempad after 19 months and losing his wife. What’s the secret to nailing a scene like that?

QUAN: I don’t think much about it. I gotta credit Kevin Wright and Eric Martin. They really beautifully created this character Ouroboros. The dialogue, when I was reading for the first time, I laughed out loud, because he’s so quirky. He’s so weird and funny. Yet, if you think about it, who is this guy that’s working in the basement of the TVA for more than 400 years with no friends? No interaction with anybody. His only encounter was with Mobius when he got lost. Yet he still takes his job so seriously and so passionately. It has a lot to do with the beautiful dialogue that they came up with.

DEADLINE: Do you think O.B. stays in the basement for another 400 years or will be venturing out more often?

QUAN: When you get a taste of what friendships feel like… Loki is addicted to that. So I’m sure O.B. will be as well. When you don’t have it, you don’t know what you’re missing. But once you have it, you keep going after it. So I would assume that O.B. would periodically, when he’s not too busy, he would go up the elevator and go say hi to Casey and B-15 And just to mingle with Mobius, because he loves Mobius.

DEADLINE: What scene are you most proud of?

QUAN: I love Episode One, that scene when he’s talking to Mobius in the present and Loki in the past. That is so creative… It’s so is so well written. It’s so funny.

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DEADLINE: How did you feel when you read the script for the finale?

QUAN: I was blown away, because I didn’t see that coming. It’s so beautiful and so poetic. When you have a character who wants to be on the throne all his life, and he finally gets to be on it. But he can never leave. He made the ultimate sacrifice…To me, Loki is the ultimate hero because he made the sacrifice without recognition. Nobody knows he did this, except the team. No one in the Sacred Timeline is going to ever know that. If we’re lucky in life, we would have people like that with us. The unsung heroes.

Loki is streaming on Disney+.

[theraven-void]

Shades of Black

Chapter 1. Denial

Connection(s): The Isle of Stones, The Broken Gods, A Story of Sea and Death

Chapter 1. Denial

Connection(s): The Isle of Stones, The Broken Gods, A Story of Sea and Death

Ero paced around the room. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be true. Really, he just wasn’t sure if this could be true. It couldn’t be! His mother, his absent mother who he’d never even met was the goddess of destruction! Luckily for him, he’d been the only one made aware of this- for the rest of the home, they were under the impression he’d gotten a scholarship for a fancy, expensive summer camp. I mean, that wasn’t completely incorrect, but still.

“Oh gods… how did this happen? There isn’t even a goddess of destruction! Ytzol law says there are only three gods! Then again…” He said, thinking out loud. Then again, he reminded himself in his mind, apparently all religion is completely false, and the Three aren’t the only gods, so- ugh! Why me of all people?!?! At least this explains where I got my shapeshifter genes.

While walking out, he proceeded to walk into a wall and bump his head, reminding him of his pitch-black eyes with no pupil nor color which constantly reminded everyone he met to ask about them. He’d actually rehearsed the answer.

“Not sure exactly why they look like that, but pretty sure it’s because I’m blind.”

“Then how are you looking directly at me?”

“Oh, well, I can see souls? It’s odd. But for example, your soul is [color], for [species]. Deathborn have purple, and shades have dark gray; etc.”

It was beyond his eyes being pitch black voids; they seemed to have smoke coming out. At least this partially explained his shade heritage; apparently, his mother was a shade as well.

Another thing he’d noticed; the three strangers that had come to bring him to the camp. They had the soul color gold, or partially gold. One of them was strong green/gold, green for lizard person. One was pale blue/gold, blue for angel, and the last was dark crimson/gold, the crimson for demon. That gold, however; he’d never seen it on anyone but himself. Gold apparently represented godly, he’d learned. This was a lot to take in for a child, you can imagine.

He finally managed to exit the building without giving himself a concussion, and shut the doors to that old rusty car; which he’d soon learn was not going to be a car for very long.

All of a sudden, a pale green soul appeared with slight tinges of bright red. Earth dragon, he presumed. He hadn’t seen many, but he could guess. The old seat he’d been sitting on felt more like the leather of a saddle now, and he realized they’d somehow just… spawned a dragon?

Finally, they arrived, and what he saw was indescribable.

A dozen souls of many colors, lots of different species; except they all had that hint of gold. For most of them, it was about half. He was the only light silver he saw besides that demonic god stranger that’d brought him there.

“Why’s your soul silver and mine too, but none of those other people?” He said. This had piqued his curiosity. “Are you like a shade too? I don’t see dark gray.”

The stranger chuckled. “No, that’s just because we’re both broken. There’s another one here; she’s just hiding in a cabin. Oh, I don’t believe we’ve properly met.” She flicked a fly out of the air.

Ero laughed with her instinctively. “Broken? Oh, yes. Um- I’m Ero. You?” He was even more curious at this point. ‘Broken’ was a touch vague, and he didn’t think that was a species.

The stranger seemed amused by Ero; they muttered something incomprehensible and began to speak. “Tamu’Kai, god of chaos, pleased to meet your acquaintance. You may call me Kai or Scarlett, however.” The strange- er, um, Kai, walked off and Ero was left alone.

The other two he’d already met; the angel being Jay, or Jay’s Wing, and that lizard being Ouroboros. The other two called her Oro, but when Ero tried she threatened to rip his throat out, so he decided that he’d address her by Ouroboros, or ‘Captain Ouroboros’, as she had insisted.

By now he’d realized these were the Three; the three original gods that ruled the universe. Apparently, this wasn’t true, but it was still quite an experience to meet the god you believed controls all good, the god you believed controls all evil (or essentially just your religion’s devil), and the god you believed keeps the world in balance.

Ero walked into the main campground and hoped, simply wishing to not immediately embarrass himself.

>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<

Thank you for reading! I’ll add a Chapter 2 link when it’s done, but thanks to @asqadia-banthen for making me feel like anybody would actually care about my writing, so yay!

Next

[sparrow-the-tired-lesbian]

MY THOUGHTS on Episode Three

Ooooh Victorian era Lokius?

OB MY BABY

B15 MY WIFE

CASEY SWEETHEART

…I really have to pee, but I can’t pause this

Fuck it I’m going to pee

Oooh old timey marvel theme

I really want those Loki trading cards I saw at Target today…

RAVONNA MY BELOVED

I hate her but I love her

MINUTES?!

what is Miss Minutes up to?

Minutes is kinda funny

Timely was a… candlemaker?

OUROBOROS WROTE THAT GUIDEBOOK

why the ominous music? Mid season interesting stuff?

OB!!!

Baby it’s alright you’re doing great you’re so smart I’m so proud of you

I’m so happy that he’s important

Haha memories

Horsey!

Wait

Loki and a horse

Oh no

OMG THEYRE SO CUTE TOGETHER IN THEIR VICTORIAN GETUP

Mobius is so excited about the World’s Fair it’s adorable

Why is the ghost clock haunting the midway what the hell is happening

I would’ve been happier if Loki had enjoyed the Cracker Jack

AWWW HE NOTICED THE POPCORN ON MOBIUS’S CHIN THATS SO CUTE

Uh oh Norse stuff

HA HE AINT EVEN UP THERE

HES SO CUTE WITH HIS BOYFRIEND

Loki do you miss your family

Is it just me or did Ravonna look that lady up and down

You just wanna drink with Loki, Mobius. 

Loki looks so anxious

HE GRABBED HIM IM DEAD

is that the loom?

Why is Timely so awkward

Loki looks so scared…

Uh oh

Does this mean that Ouroboros created the loom and Timely stole it?

Timely is so much like me tbh

He’s neurodivergent I can tell

Oh god he’s actually awesome 

I wanna put him in my pocket 

LOKIUS TOUCHES

why did they touch Ravonna 

This is a scam

He’s got a stutter… that’s lovely :)

He’s gonna bolt with the money isn’t he

You don’t wanna do that big man

Uh oh he just poofed him away

This is awkward

Oh he’s chasing him

I’m actually rooting for timely ngl

Why does this feel like an old silent film… 

You can call people on the tempads?!

WHY IS SYLVIE HERE

SYLVIE STOP IT

I WOULD ROOT FOR YOU SYLVIE BUT 

yeah Loki tell her

Is Ravonna a Lokius hater?

SYLVIE DONT

yeah listen to Loki

But Renslayer didn’t work with the TVA there

Sylvie you poor thing

This is going nowhere just throw someone off the Ferris wheel

Oh this feels like the first finale

OH GOD MINUTES

yeah Syl 

A TANDEM BIKE THIS IS AMAZING

is it weird that I kinda ship Renslayer and Timely?

Smooch you idiots!

MINUTES IS KINDA CUTE

VICTOR IS A CUTIE

WE MUST PROTECT HIM AT ALL TIMES

is Miss minutes jealous?

THE WIZARD GENTLEMAN

HIS BUTLER-

that’s not-

I wanna keep Victor in my pocket 

KACHOW

LOKI IS NOT SOMEONE YOU WANNA FUCK WITH

*saxaphone music*

HES ACKNOWLEDGING OUROBOROS! IM SO HAPPY RIGHT NOW

PAPER FLOWER PAPER FLOWER PAPER FLOWER

MARRY THIS MAN

this makes very little sense but I’m ok with it.

WHO DROPPED HER?!

MINUTES?!?!?!

MISS MINUTES YOU BITCH

I don’t like this version of miss minutes

Miss minutes sounds weird right now. I don’t like the look of it. The sound of it. 

That tone of voice 

OH GOD THIS IS BAD AGAIN

Does Miss Minutes think she’s HWR’s lover?

WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE

I DONT LIKE THIS AT ALL

WHAT IS HAPPENING IM CONFUSED

WHAT IN THE FRESH HELL

KEVIN YOU HAVE A LOT TO ANSWER FOR

Ravonna please she was being manipulative

MOMMY- SORRY 

Von?!

Mobius sweetie

WHAT DID HE DO?!

Loki is about to lose his shit on Ravonna for being mean to his boyfriend

SYLVIE MY BABYGIRL

WAIT DONT DO IT BABYGIRL

Loki don’t you dare be in love 

Sylvie stab me instead

Sylvie listen to Victor please

Victor babyboy 

Sylvie stop it

OH THAT LOOK OF HURT ON HER FACE

YES BABYGIRL

IF THEY MAKE MOBIUS IN LOVE WITH RAVONNA I SWEAR TO GOD

oh two hot women battling it out in going to 

OH GOD THE-

OH JESUS SYLVIE STOP BEING HOT

OH GOD

MINUTES STOP IT

MINUTES NO

WHAT IN THE FRESH HELL WAS THAT?!

[deancasbigbang]

Title: When Dreams Come True

Author: Avonlady

Artist: Dream Pencil

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester; Sam Winchester/Eileen Leahy; Apocalypse World Charlie/Stevie; Donna Hanscum/Jody Mills; Claire Novak/ Kaia Nieves

Length: 66156

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence; Mild Depressive Elements; Minor mention of Drinking as a coping mechanism

Tags: Canon Divergent; Angst and Fluff and Smut; Dean Winchester has a wing kink; Adoption; Plot Twist; Inappropriate Use of Grace; Dean Winchester Wears Panties; Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms; Bottom Dean/Top Castiel; Happy Ending

Posting Date: October 26, 2023

Summary: After Chuck is defeated, Jack forces Dean and Cas to finally admit their feelings to each other and gives Cas his wings back in the process. They end up getting their happily ever after while Sam settles down with Eileen. Ten years they spend together as a couple, hunting when they need to, but mostly living the domesticated life Dean always wanted and Castiel always wanted him to have. Unfortunately, it all comes crashing down one day when Castiel goes on a hunt and doesn’t make it home. Dean will do whatever it takes to get the love of his life back and ends up getting more than he bargained for when he finds him again.   This fic is canon compliant through Season 14 and starts off during the Ouroboros episode S14E14, from there it becomes Canon divergent with some of the rest of Season 14 and Season 15 being the same, but slightly different. S15E20 doesn’t exist and there is an alternate storyline 10 years into the future.

Excerpt: The thing with Dean and Castiel now being boyfriends that Dean finds interesting is that nothing has really changed other than the fact that they kiss each other now. He and Castiel had basically been dating since the moment they met, but they were the only two that didn’t know about it. Sam isn’t even surprised when he finally makes it back to the bunker and catches them making out on the couch in the Dean cave while watching a movie. He just tells them to scoot over so he can join them. “What movie are we watching?” he asks. Dean looks over at his brother with the bitchiest bitch face to ever bitch. “What do you mean what movie are we watching? You’re not even going to comment on the fact that Cas and I were just playing tonsil hockey.” He holds his finger to Castiel’s mouth because he knows the angel is going to say something about tonsils having nothing to do with hockey. “Why would I say anything? You two can do what you like. I’m surprised this is the first time I’ve walked in on you two kissing though. I thought you just waited until you were alone in your bedroom or something. Just thought you were against PDA?” “We just started kissing today. Why would we have been kissing before?” “People who are in a relationship usually kiss. You mean you two haven’t kissed before today?” “We weren’t in a relationship before today.” Sam just stares at him for a minute as if he doesn’t understand what is going on and then the lightbulb over Dean’s head finally turns on. “Wait, you thought we were in a relationship?” “Well, yea, weren’t you?” “No.” “Oh, my mistake.” “How long ago did you think we started dating?” “I don’t know. Nobody can really put a date on it, but at least since Cas came back from being possessed by the Leviathans, some think before that.” “What do you mean nobody? Who else thought we were dating already?” Sam stares into space for a minute like he’s trying to calculate something in his head. “Pretty much everyone who knows the two of you.” “Unbelievable.” Dean storms out of the Dean cave and looks back when he notices that Castiel isn’t behind him, so he yells back as he’s walking. “Cas, are you coming?” He hears Castiel apologize to Sam for leaving so rudely. He would have to explain to Castiel that we don’t apologize to annoying little brothers when they are being annoying. Dean continues the walk to his room with Castiel on his heels. He waits for the two of them to get into the room and then he slams the door for good measure. He knows Sam probably didn’t hear it because the bunker is too big, and they are too far away, but it makes him feel better anyway.

DCBB 2023 Posting Schedule

[maybeamultiverse]

Members of the DNC plugged their ears when Palestinian protestors at the National Convention in Chicago tried to tell them the names of murdered Palestinian children as an act of protest and resistance, just to get these wealthy American lawmakers who have been complicit in their mass genocide to have a shred of empathy for them.

Yeah. Read that again.

You have to be another level of evil to do that.

Complain about the “alt-left” all you want (it isn’t a thing, and the girl who came up with that term on TikTok isn’t some brilliant ideologist, lol). The same thing happened to the BLM organizers who did not want to settle for liberal, capitalist hegemony.

They were criticized relentlessly by liberals who thought themselves more progressive and politically radical than they actually were— it was a disastrous, self-consuming ouroboros of in-fighting. And I worry it’s happening again.

The aim of the uncommitted voter base is not to NOT prevent Trump’s election, as we are all well aware how disastrous his election would be. But, instead, the movement’s aim is to hold these butchers accountable, and ensure that fascism among both parties does not become normalized among both sides of the rhetorical aisle.

This is why belittling Palestinians and pro-Palestinians for their uncommitted stance and advocacy work is both implicitly and explicitly racially and colonially-motivated.

Please read that again.

I’m not calling anyone out specifically, and, even though I’m rightfully emotional about the murder of potentially 200,000+ human beings, I really think the reactionary democrats are horribly misunderstanding the political strategy and the nuances of resistance and have now taken to bullying pro-Palestinian people online and in person, which I find truly repugnant and shocking, and only acts as a more open extension of their brewing fascist tendencies.

Anyway, that’s my little pre-fajr rant this morning at 4:37AM.

[yeyinde]

Haha, I also spoil myself intentionally, but for the plot of movies, tv shows, and games I’m not super invested in. If I accidentally spoil myself (especially if I learn a character dies) I’ll cope by telling myself “I don’t know how/when it happened though”

Anyways Major Character Death!!

I’m SO disappointed in them killing off Soap and especially in how they did it! No buildup or anything! To me it was disrespectful to the character and to Neil Ellice. And then the 141 don’t even say anything and it cuts to them spreading his ashes with a simple goodbye! They could have at least made them a little more upset 🥲 also I hate how abruptly the game ended. Makarov gets away, but no mention to that at the end.

I had also initially requested what would become infinity in the palm of your hand (eternity in an hour) as a way to “cope” with 2009 Soap’s death because it’s always been on the back of my mind for years (weird, I know). But now after playing the new MW3 campaign I look like boo boo the fool because of who went and got killed off 😭 now every time I go back to reread it, it will be painful knowing what’s in store for reader for their current reincarnation of Soap.

Tldr I’m kinda not okay with MW3.

From what I've seen, it feels like they pulled it out of a hat. All names went in, but his (amongst others) came out. And I guess it's safe because he died in the OG, so the backlash can easily be deflected from within their own community when other fans come to their defence over this choice. But idk.

I agree with everything you said. It doesn't make any sense. It's jarring and misplaced, and canonically pointless. I'm not against character death. Grief is a powerful thing. But I just hate when it's so contrived and needless. It was definitely done for shock value over plot/character growth and I think they were trying to re-create the massive storm that happened when OG Soap died because they know they don't have much else going for them. It just massively missed the mark because: a) Price and Gaz had no tangible in-game relationship with Soap the same way Ghost did; and b) what does his death really amount to in the end? Nothing. It feels cobbled together and poorly thought out. It's sad when Portal 2 has better writing than your whole remake combined. Honestly, it's kind of impressive how little thought they put into this. I'm getting flash backs to DGG's Halloween.

If it's any consolation, the mythology I based the reincarnation off of in infinity would essentially just be neverending. An ouroboros. The events would happen much the same way. A knock on the door. Spiral of grief. A bog. A deal. Restart. So, you'd just wake up again and live life until whatever the old you made a deal with decides it's time to collect. You're forever stuck in a loop with your soulmate until you get it right.

The rest is just how I kinda wish it went, but this was getting very long because I have more thoughts on this than I anticipated lmao 😅

Personally, I think it would have been much more interesting if they brought in a new passel of characters and slowly chipped off the main cast in a series of horrible decisions that slowly begin to feel hollow and empty. That leave you, the player, feeling emotionally gutted with each new chapter because the choices previously are absolutely impacting the way they move forward, but they're too deep into their own revenge fantasy to see it until the very end when it's too late. Give me actions have consequences and every choice you make is directly responsible for someone's death. The realities of war. And what happens when you give a group of people the power to play god in countries they know nothing about. It would have matched the gritty tone they tried to go for with the trailers and actually served as an interesting conversation about war and how we tend to deify the military when they're just men with too much power in their hands. Instead, we have a death that means nothing. That arguably happened much too early in the series so the payoff is solely meant for clicks and reaction channels. Pointless.

And Makarov. A Russian Ultra Nationalist. I feel like that title alone says everything for me, and yet. They still somehow managed to give a Russian War Criminal so many wins. I'm just so irritated by it all.

[inkspottie]

Genuinely cannot express just how grateful I am for Ouroboros. Like I was just casually scrolling through the pressure tag on ao3 one day and just happened to run into vicissitude and think “oo this looks pretty interesting lemme give it a read”. Could not have ever predicted that I would end up spending most of my time on tumblr and writing fanfics/making fanart for it in the near future LOL. Before reading this fic series, I was in a bit of a depressive episode you could say. I was struggling a lot with college and just finding the motivation to do simple tasks was a struggle. I had nothing I could really look forward to or devote my time towards. But once I read Ouroboros I finally had smth to be passionate about again!! I can’t even begin to describe just how much this has reawakened so many things in me. Not only have I found the motivation I need to keep doing my college work, but I also have just really started to explore and spend a lot of my time on multiple different creative mediums I had kinda stopped exploring. Writing, art, etc. Before this I felt very insecure about my abilities within these fields, but now I actually have confidence and passion in them again!

I can’t remember the last time I have been apart of such a fun and welcoming community. I love the little mini fandom Ouroboros has created and it really feels like a little family almost haha. I’ve always been apart of very big fandoms, but being apart of such a small one like this is a very nice change. It’s really nice to just be seen by people and to actually know everyone within the community yknow?

I know this is kinda long but I really just needed to express my gratitude towards u and ur work spottie!! You’re an incredibly talented and kind person! So thank you so much, truly. Excited to see what u have in store for us in the future, and u have definitely earned ur self a permanent follower!!

P.S I am def going to need to read laughing at tragedy sometime in the future, as I am also a huge fnaf nerd so fnaf + ur writing is bound to be good.

Hhh I’m glad to hear it friend. Honestly I was in a bit of a rut myself so having such a wonderful community now is nice.

Sometimes you just gotta build yourself a little sandbox in the fandom and have your own little circle. It’s a lot more fun that way.

And good luck at Laughing at Tragedy, it’s my magnum opus and it is LONG but I still had a blast writing it.

[chevvy-yates]

WIP WHENEVER

got taggeg by @ouroboros-hideout. Always a big thanks <3

So, I hopefully go back into taking some pics later, as my pile of exisiting pics I can post nears to zero. But I've have a writing muse since the past three days and it's a little hard to stop it.

So today/tonight I'm going to share some new words i wrote, of course of my main ship Ryder and Thyjs as I do write both.

This is a part where they are already together for a bit and venture further into making out bit by bit.

This is the start of the chapter, where I reused some early oneshot-like text I wrote when I decided for Ryder's fragrance he uses and now I found a way to integrate it into a chapter with them:

Ryder just lit himself a cigarette and empties the last drop of good hop and malt when Thyjs comes back from bringing empty dishes into the kitchen. He places himself right next to Ryder, quickly borrows his cigarette from his mouth, takes a puff and hands it back while Ry puts the bottle onto the table. He leans back and places his right arm around his partner who leans his head onto his shoulder.  “Any wishes on what to watch?” Ry asks him as he inhales the menthol. “Nee. Just zap through.” “Gut.” Ry proceeds to bend forward, so he could drop the ash into the tray, then places the ciggy back to his mouth and grabs the remote control for his big tv screen and just zaps through the programs until they find something that was interesting enough to watch for both. 

They kept watching a documentary about the fourth Corporate War for quite a bit until Thyjs moves for a more comfortable position leaning against Ry and it’s when his nose picks up his partner’s strong perfume scent again that makes him raise his voice after a long while of silence between them. “You know, I realized a while ago, that your perfume has some light yasmine notes.”  At first Ryder blinks a few times with a rather doe look in his so ever intimidating eyes. He didn’t expect that now. “Y-you smelled the different notes of my perfume — when?” He stutters a little, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.  “Every time.” De Wit smirks a bit, his hands slowly stroking up and down his partner’s arm. Ry clears his throat but then asks in a slightly sassy tone as he turns towards him. “Okay, what else do I smell of, hmm? Can’t be only a flower.” And don’t say menthol, he thinks further to himself, lighting another cigarette.  Thyjs can see he’s more than curious about it. He leans forward. “Wait, I’m going to tell you.” Within an eye blink he is super close to him, eyes shut taking in his partner’s scent.

Thyjs had sensed it all: first the green fresh top notes like bergamot, gardenia and artemisia, then the heart notes started distracting him — sandalwood, vetiver and the most mystic of all: patchouli. Not too much but enough to have Thyjs start to think about different things than just chilling next to Ryder. But once when only the base notes were left as it's settled on Ryder's skin for a while, like now, the strong leather woody ember fragrance left eventually comes through, that starts to fuck a little too much with Thyjs' head as he always has Ryder in this godverdomme hot leather harness on mind he saw him wearing once when he went to a rave and Thyjs chose to stay at home, while they were just friends.  “I don’t think I can smell all of it, I’m no expert and it appears to be complex, but the base is really sharp and woody like a thick forest coated by recent rain.” Ryder has to smirk in response because this is exactly why he uses it. Furthermore, Thyjs adds, “But it also comes fully packed with musk and leather.” It causes Ry to shortly look up somewhere else, as he releases some smoke in the air and tries to reminisce about his own perfume he sprays onto himself each day. “I noticed it must be a very powerful, masculine one I would even dare to say is made for corporates only, but we both know you don’t like that much.”

“True.”  “Hoe dan ook, I think it smells very timeless and classy. Suits you well.” Scharfenberg is truly impressed by what a fine nose his boyfriend has and he likes it. “Any more exciting words than just it’s a classic?” Ry wants to know further. He’s really hooked by Thyjs’ description and totally aware that his perfume is not unlike any ordinary perfume. He knows it adds a certain seductiveness to him, making him appear mystic overall. “It makes you smell as sweet as jasmine in the morning but also as spicy as cinnamon as the day goes on with a drop of fresh citrus flavor.” “I like that.” A smirk steals on Ry’s dark lips as he takes another puff of his cigarette. “And it somehow coats you in an entire mysticism, maybe because of the patchouli that unfolds as you are wearing it through the day and a touch of myrrhe adds onto it. And I think I’ve never smelled a perfume that’s so enduring with such excellence.” “Now you start to flatter me,” Ry lets him know after an extended exhale of smoke that shortly cloaked both in a little cloud. “I have to admit, it makes me not only a little crazy for you,” Thyjs confesses while Ry proceeds to stub out his cigarette. "Oh, does it?” He leans back, his gaze fixed on his soldier boy. It’s a look that is able to undress him.  Thyjs gives him a heavy nod, followed by a short “Yes, Sir!” as he is looking intently at the pair of glowing eyes gazing at him so intently, that it makes him bite his bottom lip. “And it is such a sweet temptation I can’t withstand to taste.”

I really love their dynamic. And it's funny to me that Thyjs talks A LOT when he's alone with Ry only. Going to leave out the middle part bc I wanna keep this for when the time comes (which will take like forever and I already see myself adding more and more) as this chapter is faaaar away from the current ones (I have to do CH02 next …) But I also like to share the part of the closing scene:

Ryder gives him another forehead kiss and pushes him softly out of the shower. “Ich bitte darum!” He speaks with a strong tone and turns off the water. “But for now let’s find some rest, hm?” Again Thyjs just nods. He sees a smirk stealing on Ry’s lips. “What else is on your mind?” “The TV is still running. Figured you should go turn it off since you were the last one downstairs. I’ll wait in bed for you to come cuddle.” “On my way, Sir!” Thyjs replies and before Ryder can answer anything to it, he’s gone leaving only a few water droplets in the air Ryder now watches falling down. He lets out a laugh. “Sandevistan — of course.” So much for that he would wait for him in the bed as he already knows it’s Thyjs who will be waiting for him instead, when he leaves the bathroom.

Along the way writing Thyjs I started to like that sometimes he uses his fast ability also in normal life situations. I think it's funny when you tell him something to do and he's like okay and just vanishes to go after it and well, does it a lot faster than you expect it bc people like Ryder living a live without Sandevistan don't think about that this ability can speed up some processes where it is not exactly necessary to wait (I mean he could not boil food faster using Sandevistan, but he could prepare the stuff needed for it faster - stuff like that).

—

tagging the usual folks I guess:

@gloryride, @astarionhistears, @streetkid-named-desire, @dreamskug, @fereldanwench, @aggravateddurian, @kdval, @elvenbeard, @kittenchrissy, @therealnightcity, @shivsghost and @rosapexa + anyone seeing this. no pressure ofc! <3