#ooh some angst

[its-not-ohneey]

So, I came up with some lore...

It boils down to the world is a game played by players (wow). Every character, unless they're an NPC, has a player behind them.

So does all of Deadlock. They're all just people playing a multiplayer erogame and all the characters are their avatars, they're just all really into roleplay (it's why they formed a team in the first place).

Oni's player was unique in a way. He kinda just played the game to spend time with people and really liked the social aspect of it, as he'd struggled with forming bonds in real life. But, there came a point where he was doing okay in his real life, he had real friends, a job and was about to move in with his life partner. The game had lost it's luster and pull, so he deleted his account.

Somehow, someway, this caused Oni to get ejected from the game world and get dumped out in a different world entirely, which caused his character model to conform with that specific game's character creator and style. And he gained a consciousness. A consciousness that was now lost and confused over the new world's ruleset and lack of any familiar faces. He wants desperately to get back home, to reclaim his role and friends.

But, the thig is, no one is waiting for him. Sure, the crew misses the player somewhat, they did spend a long while together, but they don't know Oni. He himself barely knows who he is without his player.

He didn't do anything outside of hanging out with his friends constantly, engaging in fights and such.

He's just an avatar without anyone controlling him anymore.

He doesn't have a family.

He didn't grow up.

…

[arkham-guard-dp-au]

... Casually throws more fuel to the fire

Residents of Arkham learn about Danny and his "death day" in one way or another. (Coincidentally, it aligns with the same day 2nd Robin died cause of Joker here)

What caused an uproar was when Danny slipped about how during his "death day", he's in quite a bit (read: a lot) of pain and he thinks it might be because of having no grave. Which- oh boy... BATMAN DIDN'T GIVE YOU A GRAVE!?

"Wait wait- what do you mean you don't have a grave!?"

"... I mean... Kinda hard to have a proper funeral of sorts when there wasn't a body left to have one and all. Plus, why would Batman give me one, anyways?"

Everyone's looking at Joker and later Batman. They're both in hot shit. Mainly Joker atm since Batman ain't in Arkham for them to target- at least not until they do a massive breakout just to solely torment him later on.

Like you said, it's mostly general concensus at this point that Death Day is painful. Physically and/or mentally, the amount depends on how much angst the author wants to give.

That being said, you'd think that would mean Danny would take that day off. But we all know he is also the kind of self-sacrificing idiot that would so cover a co-worker's shift that day after being litterly begged too, thanks to understaffing. That or he just forgot but I'm pretty sure it would be hard to forget after the first few times and Jazz would probably call him like before, during, and after his death day because it is just traumatic all around for Danny.

Furthermore, he probably doesn't want to call and talk to Sam or Tucker about it because it makes them feel guilty and he doesn't want to bug them well they are off doing collage things or whatever. Even if his friends are 100% willing to be there for him.

As for the whole inmates knowing about it. Idk if Danny just let it slip or something, perhaps made a joke thinking that no one would believe it anyways. Completely forgetting this is Gotham and weirder things had happened. Though now there is a debate between the inmates on whether Danny was resuscitated, brought back through superhero shenanigans, or is just a zombie or something.

One particularly brave and/or foolish inmate just straight up asks Fenton if he eats brains. He gets a confused no in response, so most tend to cross zombie off the list after that.

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Part 5 - dare not preach

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

Masterlist Part 4

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

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

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

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

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

He wanted to scream. 

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

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

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

————————————————

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

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

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

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

Unburied in my soil. 

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

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

(Thanks to Jazz and her rash actions.) 

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

(At least this time he would have support.) 

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

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

(Damn it all.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jason Todd 

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

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

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

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

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

(Into something different, something more.) 

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

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

How does one paraphrase a life? 

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

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

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

Danny, per aspera ad Astra.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jazz had extra tutoring to take up for Christmas presents. 

Danny… Danny still had to fight a ghost. 

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

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

It wasn’t right. 

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

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

Perhaps she should have never left that darkness. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(She was a patient hunter.)

Pariah Dark was the final crack. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(How times have changed.) 

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

(His sins were numerous.) 

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

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

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

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

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

Death-Claimed Champion. 

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

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

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

Though that was highly doubtful. 

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

Perhaps Jason would be willing to unite their haunts? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Would their kids be so cute?)

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

The coffee, that is. 

Little late on the literal bit. 

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

So what was up with Sunshine Child? 

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

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

(At least Jazz would find it funny.) 

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

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

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

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

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

“My brother is missing.”

Danny blinked. 

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

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

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

(Like at all.) 

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

(Oh wait.) 

“Yikes, Sunny. That sucks, ‘m sorry.”

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

“Batman thinks he’s dead.” 

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

(Overshot the mark there, Bats. Yikes.) 

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

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

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

A/N:

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

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

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

[sinclairstarz]

i cant stop thinking about them :(( ignore the bad quality

[orbmanson7]

@intrulogical sent me a Logan Angst prompt!

logan crying in a video whilst offering a solution to something and thomas going "stop crying"

I'm still taking Logan Angst prompts from any word or phrase sent to my ask box!

--

Asking for clarification had become almost habit for him by now.

"Ah, so you didn't mean that literally then?" Logan steadied his expression after the realization struck him. "I suppose this is why clarification is so useful in these discussions."

"There's nothing to clarify, Specs!" Roman threw his hands up dramatically. "It's not like we were trying to trick you!"

Logan blinked at that response. He hadn't thought they were trying to deceive him with their words, no, but it's not as though they had meant what they said, either. Hence the need for clarification.

He nodded towards Roman, replying,

"I understand that, but--"

"Do you?" Roman instantly cut him off. "Because it seems like it takes a million times for us to explain something to you before you actually get it!"

Oh. So he was bothered by Logan's repeated desire for clarification. The quantity was the issue.

"I believe I understand your concern. While some subjects may take extra consideration, I can assure you, I am trying my best."

"Are you?"

Thomas stared back at him with an unreadable expression. Was it unreadable to everyone else, too, or just him?

"Wh..." He was so shocked to hear Thomas outright doubt him like that, he couldn't even formulate the question he wanted to ask. He tried not to let it show, straightening his stance.

Thomas needed his trust, his confidence.

"Of course I am," he told him.

He just needed to be confident. He didn't need to bring more doubt to the topic at hand, after all.

"Princey kind of has a point, though," Thomas only frowned at him. "We've talked about this before, but you never seem to get it. Aren't you supposed to be the smart one?"

"Well, yes, of course," Logan replied as quickly as possible, trying not to sputter over how badly his attempt had just failed. "But it's not as though I have limitless knowledge--"

"Aren't you his language center or whatever it's called?" Virgil piped up. "Isn't this supposed to be your thing?"

"I operate his recognition and use of language, yes," he answered truthfully, "but understanding more than the contextual meaning behind a phrase via facial expression or body language or tone of voice doesn't typically fall to my expertise--"

"Then why are you even doing it?"

"Wh... It... Because it's my job."

He'd never had anyone ask him such a question before, and he wasn't sure there was a better way to answer it.

"And yet," Roman butted in, "you need us to explain what we mean forty times every episode for you to understand? If it's your job, shouldn't you already know how to do that?" He grumbled, crossing his arms. "It's not like I have to relearn how to write every time I have an idea, you know. I already know how to do it. So what's your problem?"

Logan stared. He...wasn't sure there was an adequate answer to that, either. Surely, there was a legitimate reason why pragmatic errors frequented his discussions with others, but if it really was his role to handle that on Thomas' behalf, why was he continuously struggling with it? Why had he not learned about it, held onto that knowledge, and then applied it when the situation arose, just as he had with near everything else?

Why was this different, especially when it so heavily affected his purpose to Thomas?

What was his problem?

Roman laughed.

"What? Cat got your tongue now?"

"...no?" Logan raised an eyebrow, confused. "I still have my tongue and there is no cat to--"

"Logan, seriously, just stop." Thomas held up a hand to stop him. He wasn't even looking at Logan as he spoke. "You're the one always lecturing us about learning stuff but then you don't even understand half of what we're saying unless we spell it out for you!"

Logan bit his lip, willing himself to understand.

"I don't think you'd need to spell anything out, Thomas. I simply ask that you clarify the meaning of--"

"For the love of God, Logan, this is exactly what we're talking about!" Thomas shouted, finally turning to look directly at him.

Logan paused. So this was more of the same, then.

"Ah."

It wasn't just that he was asking too often, it was the matter of his asking at all.

Roman rolled his eyes.

"Boy, and you call me stupid."

"I don't believe I've called you that," Logan responded calmly, then adding, "Today."

Even if it was harsh, at least when he had said that, he meant what he said.

After all, why would someone say something they didn't mean? Wouldn't they want to be understood? To be able to communicate effectively?

When he spoke, he wanted to not only be heard but for others to know what he was trying to convey. Using hidden context served little purpose, and only proved to create massive communication issues like this one.

Logan absently fiddled with the end of his tie.

The others were all looking at him disapprovingly.

He swallowed, but something in his throat felt tight, obstructed. His eyes seemed less focused, slightly blurring around the edges.

He tried to take a proper breath, but it came in shuddering and came back out shaky.

None of these were good signs, at least as far as seeming professional goes.

"Perhaps I have asked for clarification far too often for your liking." Logan paused, expecting to be cut off yet again. When the others didn't respond, he continued, "I merely wish to make sure we're communicating properly, that I'm not misunderstanding your--"

"We shouldn't have to explain it every time!"

And there it was.

Roman and Thomas both began yelling a number of things, but Logan just waited.

Everything they were saying... They were right. Something was definitely wrong here. Logan shouldn't be continuing to struggle if they've all done their part to explain their intention so many times. Why was he still in need of clarification, of assistance? Why hadn't he resolved this on his own already?

He would have to keep trying.

As it quieted down, he turned to Thomas, attempting to hold his gaze without trepidation.

"I... I'll keep trying, then."

"What, so you weren't trying before?" Thomas was so immediately outraged. "How long are we going to have to put up with this?"

"Logan, maybe you just need to try a different way of figuring it out." Patton offered, hands up, placating. "We all know you get stuck in your ways, so maybe just try it our way this time, yeah?"

But doing just that hadn't ended well at all last time. He couldn't have been the only one who remembered that, right? Last time, he was only left confused and ultimately misunderstood by the others when he tried it 'their way'. That couldn't possibly be the solution. No, there had to be something else.

"Well," Logan tried, "I don't know if that would--"

"He's right!" Roman cut in, sounding angry. "You don't even want to get it, do you? Is this an attention thing again??"

Roman moved his arms around in ways that failed to make sense to Logan at all.

"Oh no, Logan needs even more attention now so he has to pretend to be stupid to get even more camera time!"

Logan was completely confused at such a comment. That didn't seem like a fair judge of his conduct at all.

He grimaced,

"I... I would never pretend to--"

"L, it's fine if you're just doing it so you get to talk more," Virgil told him, leaning back casually on the staircase. "I get it, man, but this isn't the way, you know?"

Logan did not 'get it' like Virgil apparently did. Why would someone pretend to not understand something? Why not just be sincere, clarify their confusion so they can get the help they need? What purpose would it serve to lie about it?

"I just..." He wasn't sure how to explain to them that he wasn't pretending without knowing why they thought he was. "That's not... I wouldn't do that--"

"Oh, please." Roman scoffed.

Thomas sighed, putting his face in his hands.

"Logan, the excuses aren't helping, either."

He hadn't meant to bother Thomas with all of this. He was at a loss on what he could do to fix this mess, one he had apparently started all on his own.

He swallowed again, feeling heat begin to rise behind his eyes.

"A-apologies."

Thomas shoved his hands down at his sides. Logan may not have been the best with body language but he could certainly tell his choice to apologize had been the wrong one to make.

Thomas glared at him, something Logan realized he had started to see more often lately. Logan flinched without meaning to, and he couldn't even begin to understand the shiver that had gone through him or what it could possibly mean. His vision blurred.

He could just make out Thomas' expression as it twisted at Logan's knee-jerk reaction, and he suddenly shouted at Logan,

"Ugh, stop crying! Just do better!"

He really hadn't meant to have any overt reaction, but he'd been quite unprepared for this turn of events.

Where had they come up with the idea that he would lie about this? Was this his fault to begin with, for not putting in enough effort to understand, to learn, to improve?

Clearly they had a better understanding than he did, so perhaps they were right. Maybe he was capable of understanding and was simply choosing not to properly learn how to discern the difference in someone's words with how they speak them.

He reached up, removed his glasses, and wiped a palm across his eye, trying to stop the tears that kept flowing. He wasn't entirely sure when he had started crying, either, but now it didn't seem to want to stop.

Thomas was right. Logan had to do better. It was past time he did his job the right way by now, and in the way Thomas wanted above all else.

He put his glasses back on and turned to Thomas, ignoring the last tear escaping down his cheek as he spoke.

"I'll try."

[wereh0gz]

Guess who's thinking up a new au to make themself sad with

[oldkamelle]

For the doodle ideas:

Remus biting an orange, peel and all.

he's trying to intimidate the orange side

[agentark]

live look at me bringing Beckett to the coroner's office, failing the stat check to get the doctor talking, BUT getting whisperings of ass kicking B:

[onippep]

Take good care of him.

(Always will.)

[aphelea]

i feel any emotion ever and immediately think great which character can i project this on

[king-xineohp]

"Xin you haven't published a fic in forever!"

I'm fucking working on it shut up

[blazingphantom]

Wendell & Wild Oneshot

Summary: Overcoming self-guilt isn't easy. But Helley's there to help a certain Overlord.

"It's surprising how long I haven't seen my house in ages." Sister Helley muses too himself slotting her keys into the keyhole, one hand resting on the front door. Ever since she took her job up as a nun, she practically lived in RBC School. She wasn't exactly complaining, but she did miss her house time to time- it was only a normal human thing. And the fact Rustbank was bursting with life once more? Made her a bit emotional. But at the same time, it was purely amazing. Too long where the streets and town abandoned. Every night slowly and gradually- every born resident just leaving one by one. It greatly disheartened her, but she always reminded herself. She would never leave, the girls in RBC needed her. And Helley adored her job, she loved teaching the girls.

"Surprised it's even intact still." A deeper voice shakes her out her thoughts. And Helley just smiles widely, glancing behind her shoulder and catching the glimpse of a much bigger, blue form. Buffalo Belzer stands a few feet behind her. Donned in a mustard-colored turtleneck and baggy wide legged black trousers. Which was a rarity, a thing that only happened once every blue moon. Currently standing at 8 feet tall. Despite being shrunk down, he still dwarfed everyone. His visitor form he called it, only switching into it when he wanted to get personal or just overall visit. Well, obviously he couldn't do it at 300ft. She and him had come back from the local diner. An outing if you'd call it that. Kat and Raul were there too as well. It was mostly a get together for all of them. And relaxation for the adults.

"You'd be taken aback. Mariana agreed to tidy and keep my house clean." Helley tells Belzer matter-of-factly, pushing the door inwards and stepping inside. The demon overlord trails after, ducking his head so his horns don't scrape the paint on the ceiling.

Belzer glances around and takes in the interior design. It's- well cozy. All the houses in Rustbank seemed to just instantly have that homey feel. He had to admit- he was really fond of it. And this was coming from a partially cave-dwelling infernal being. His gaze drifts down to the oakwood shelf that is aligned near the wall. Discreetly studying the picture frames. Some of her and her mother, and then... Helley and Manberg. Together her as a child. Belzer still found their relationship complicated. Maybe she forgot about that picture? But hey, he couldn't really say anything it wasn't his business. "You can stay here long as you want. But I have a curfew in bed by 11:45." Helley's voice resounds from the living room. Belzer blinks and winces as the lights suddenly comes on. He peaks his head into the living room and oo's quietly. A red sofa is up against the wall and a medium sized TV is sat on a coffee table. The curtains are drawn and block out the darkness of outside. "I wasn't one for decor." Helley shrugs her shoulders, "but it's home." She smiles and heads into the kitchen. "You want something? Water- or.." She swings open the fridge and frowns too herself, "water." Humming she turns to face him and rubs her hands together, "have to go shopping anyways." Belzer curiously heads on over and reaches his hand toward the very top and his fingers briefly skim the surface of something hard. Grabbing it briskly and bringing it down to his eye-level. It was... "Beer!" He exclaims triumphantly with a toothy grin. Helley whirls around and walks back to him, reading the date. Avoiding Belzer's teasingly accusing gaze with practiced focus and pure dedication.

"Huh, well it is in date. You have it." Helley pats his arm reassuringly and gets herself a glass of cold water. Belzer rummages around in the open cupboard and grabs a glass, pouring in the contents. Helley heads over to the sofa and sighs softly to herself. "Put on the TV if you want. I'm going to get changed for bed." "Mm." Is all Belzer says very visibly enjoying the comfiness of the couch. Ears twitching as the resounding footsteps of Helley slowly get quieter and quieter. It was all silent now. Silent. Belzer's eyes softened slightly, and he looked around the room. He wasn't one for quiet atmosphere, it reminded him of... well. There's no need to get into detail. Belzer felt himself drifting so slowly. Maybe it was the alcohol from earlier. But he was 100% sure he was beginning to feel something else. An emotion- that wasn't too familiar with him. But luckily that emotion was quickly warded off. As something else came into mind. "This fuckin outfit-" He growls irritably too himself and immediately stands up. It was pinching him too much. How could humans stand wearing these restricting pieces of fabric? Belzer grabbed the neck of his shirt and began to pull it over his belly, chest and arms. Where did he- oh screw it. Belzer was so tempted to toss the article of clothing but decided not to. Setting it gently on the arm of the couch. Before beginning to take of his trousers. "Buffalo Belzer- not another movement!" Helley's disembodied voice roared suddenly and in a blink of eye. She was standing beside him, now wearing a plain black pajamas whilst giving him that very serious look of 'don't you dare'. Belzer stares at her for a moment before grabbing his trousers and slowly pulling down. "Nope-" "But-" "Nah!" "Bu-" Helley scowls at him. "You ain't wearing underwear! I don't want a nude demon in my house, Belzer. Just- keep it on, okay?" He whistles tunelessly between his sharp teeth, a smug grin growing on his face. "For Christ-" "Ah," Belzer holds up a finger, "God's watching, remember?" Helley stares daggers at him and lightly shakes her head, her lips slightly downturned showing her displeasure. "Seriously Buffalo Belzer. Keep your trousers on, or you'll have to go home." Belzer exhales a long breath through his nose. "Fine." He lifts his hands up in surrender and falls back onto the couch, discreetly sticking his tongue out at her. "I saw that." Well, shit. Helley smirks proudly and sits on the couch next to him. Grabbing the remote and switching on the TV. "Get ready because I'm about to introduce you to the world of movies." She warns him with a light grin. Belzer's tail wags excitedly, oh this was going to be good.

-------------------- It was only 7 minutes into the movie. Till he started to feel, what was that emotion? Oh right, sadness. Belzer frowned too himself, he had to drunk right? Why was he feeling like this anyways? Belzer didn't like feeling this. He was already rebuilding his relationships with his boys. Oh. It all clicked now together. Belzer's gaze sneakily drifted to the side- to catch a glimpse of Helley who was too focused on the movie to notice his change in expression and demeanour. He wasn't the best father, was he? He really wasn't. Belzer eyebrows formed into a sad frown. Fathers didn't imprison their children or force them to work. Belzer blinked thrice and tried to recompose himself. He couldn't cry, not now. He was in company dammit, his left hand which rested along his hand, tightened its grip. Claws anchoring into the flesh unbeknownst to him. Stop. Stop this. Too many negative emotions were flooding him like a swarm. Why now? Out of all the times, did it have to be now? Belzer didn't know he had drawn attention to himself. Until he let out a sudden ragged gasp of air, covering his eyes with his hands. Helley looked over with worry and immediately paused the movie. "Belzer? You alright there?" Leaning over slightly to get a better look at him. Reluctantly resting a palm on his arm. "I'm such a fuck up of a father." Came the muffled response. Helley's eyes widened- not so much at the cursing. But just the way his sudden change of mood just- appeared. "Belzer-" Helley tried softly. Belzer jerked away and raised his head staring at her with glossy eyes. "Don't you dare- say otherwise. Do fathers- force their kids to-to work? Do fathers imprison his kids? Do they fucking- ignore them- or neglect THEM!" Belzer exclaims distraughtly; the volume of his voice doesn't make Helley wince. But she feels sympathy and pity for him. Very much so. She had never seen him so distressed. Helley had only known him for a few months, but this was already making her heart ache for him. "Exactly. Bad parents do that." Belzer's nostrils flare with heavy breaths, leaning back defeatedly into the couch. Claws still embedded in his arms, the air of anger and despair around him almost suffocating. Helley can almost physically sense the dark sea of guilt consuming him. She scooches closer to him nonchalantly. "Belzer," She begins again, mulling mentally over the right words to say without angering him. Looking up at him, he's grasping the glass of beer tightly- and Helley initially worries he'd break it and send shards exploding everywhere. And it feels all too familiar, a scenario too well known. Abruptly yet briefly she's thrown back into her memories. A mother on the couch, staring blankly at the TV with a glass of alcohol in her hand. "You... were a bad parent." A small growl issues itself from his throat, and Helley's eyes snap down to his claws that dig even further into his flesh. "But you changed, if you weren't a good parent. You'd remain the same without redemption." Like my mother. She informs him firmly, gingerly grasping his hands and gently lifting them up and away. Almost feeling nauseous, she knows this wasn't a healthy way of dealing with these emotions. "How.." Belzer chokes out, "how can they forgive me? I treated them all badly. They're my children-" A small sob racks his body.

"I know Belzer." Helley comforts him, "but you've learnt your mistakes. And you're dealing with them, regrowing your relationship with your kids." Belzer is quiet for a long moment and Helley worries she had accidently upset him even more. But what happened next was even more alarming- Belzer slumped forward head colliding onto her shoulder. Helley's eyes widen briefly, well- she wasn't expecting this. But she experimentally rested her hand along his arm comfortingly. "Wendell hates me."

"He might- or might not. But the best thing you can do Belzer is to keep rebuilding your relationship." Helley advises him. Belzer sits in silence for a moment digesting her words. Was he being a good father by finally letting Wendell and Wild build their Faire? He assumed so. He'd already seen the design- and it was wonderful. He couldn't have been prouder. "And even if he does hate you currently, it won't last." Helley, of course. Couldn't speak for him, but she was there. When Belzer conversed with his two sons about their project. They looked so happy. But even she knew just because he was letting them build Dream Faire now- wouldn't throw away the other things that had happened between the family of demons. It was a step forward though and that was a sign- of a healthier, and better relationship growing in the near future. Belzer doesn't say anything for a good minute. The guilt he was still feeling was overwhelming. All of those of being a bad parent just came back suddenly haunt him. If he had been better. Would his older children still run off to the Living? Would they not of hated him? Would Wendell not resent him? "Belzer." Helley starts a note of unsureness evident in her voice, "how long have you been feeling this? This guilt?" She wanted to know, she had seen a case of self-guilt before, and it was never pretty. "Years." He replied honestly before sitting upright, glancing at Helley with the most miserable expression she had ever seen on the demonic Overlord's face. "Always told myself- I shouldn't feel these emotions."

Helley's eyebrows form into a puzzled frown. "How come? Is it because you're a demon and a ruler?" Belzer gives a small chuckle- but Helley's smart enough to know it isn't from humor. "Clearly. You don't see the old Scratch crying and blubbering." He tells her brusquely. Helley holds his gaze, reaching for his hand gingerly and squeezing it comfortingly. "Belzer, all these negative emotions have been left to boil up and fester. You..." Her eyes drift down discreetly to his arms, "you aren't dealing with these emotions the way you should be." "But I shouldn't be!-" Belzer rages abruptly, lips curled back to reveal his sharp teeth. Grip tightening so much- Helley worries he'll snap her wrist clean off, but she doesn't so much as wince. "You're allowed to feel, and if it hurts. It's okay."

Belzer's eyes soften at that, regarding her for a long moment in silence. Before unshed tears start to emerge, slanting forward and resting his chin on her shoulder in some sort of variation of a hug.

"Hey, it's alright." Helley consoles him, raising her arms and reluctantly hugging him as he softly sobs. She was never used to physical touch- but now? She didn't care, not now at least. And each cry of distress makes her increase her embrace tightly, she just wants him to be alright. He's not loud, but it doesn't have to be for Helley to hear the outright anguish. Helley always found it ironic, how herself befriended a demon. But she'd be damned, if he wasn't the best friend, she always wanted in her childhood life.

After a while the stifled sobs comes to a stop. And for Belzer it feels like a heavy weight had been lifted. Was this all he needed? To talk to someone, to vent? Helley remains hugging him, until he gradually pulls away in his own time. His eyes are red and puffy. But despite that he looks considerably calmer. "I'm sorry you had to see all that."

Helley keeps her grim firm and reassuring on his hand. "Don't. Don't apologize ever for venting out all your emotions." She informs him sternly, her gaze so gentle and soothing. "I just want to be a good parent." Belzer shrugs his shoulders limply. And Helley nods her head knowingly. "Belzer, you're already starting to become a better parent." Helley reminds him, "and only you can mend your relationship with Wendell and Wild and the others. It'll be hard at first, but as time goes on. It'll be easier, you just have to keep pushing on and trying." Belzer's eyes flicker down and Helley knows she heard him. "I'll do my best." There's a newfound determination in his eyes. A nervous one, but it's there. He just had to keep on trying, if this is what he had to do? Then he'd do it over 100 times. Helley's lips curve into a bright smile. "Want to finish the film?" She asks him tenderly and nestles back into the couch. Remote pointed at the TV.

Belzer perks up at that and nods his head, a small grin visible on his face. The room once more filled with noise from the movie. Helley looks at Belzer mentally. And the only thing she sees is a broken father who hasn't dealt with his emotions in the healthiest way. But she knows that doesn't excuse the abuse he inflicted on his own children. But she admires the fact he saw and realized his wrongdoings. And he was working on being a better parent. He wasn't all bad. He had a long road to trek, decidedly so. But she would be there to offer him guidance and help. Buffalo Belzer, I wish you could see how much good you're already doing. You should be proud that you have changed your ways. Doing and changing more- than my own mother could. She absentmindedly lets her head slouch to the side, cheek resting on his arm. Eyes glued to the TV screen; this was nice. Helley would always be here for him, for Raul- for the demon brothers and especially Kat. They were all like family to her, it always made her a bit emotional. But she felt great happiness each time she was helping someone close to her. She believed in Belzer. He could do it.

[dumpsterfireofsubtext]

Finished the first chapter of my wings of desire au (posting tomorrow!) and completed the companion playlist. This song is so bealil coded and. OOH the angst.

The angst will become more apparent in chapter two 👀

[lightningstorm003]

Why does it feel like all of season 4 is just the writers poking fun at how big the fan-base has gotten, and making episodes like au fanfics and breaking the fourth wall. I'm not complaining in the slightest because it's absolutely amazing, but it's still funny how they totally took advantage of us.

[luxeberries]

me, knowing that carol has short hair again sometime in season 11 and learning that she cut it in the first place because she felt unsafe: oh no what angst is going to occur that makes her feel like she has to cut it all of again

season 11 episode 24, cutting her hair short in the last fifteen minutes for no reason and without giving an explanation or even addressing it:

me: PLEASE

[yuuminni]

friends divided by factions fe*h drama doesnt seem real to me bc edelg*rd's faction is very unserious and stupid. not the ideology behind it, but the way she executes it is. so much so that i just cant imagine anyone seriously following it and not thinking wait,,,, like you just cant make "i must kill you because of my principles" drama appealing without the characters having strong conviction, and every single one of the fe*h students except the lords and their retainers have moral backbone of a chocolate eclair (bc they have to be "bendable" enough so they could be recruited to any houses)