#the implied torture is more blatant

[nanenna]

Alternate Ending

So there was a comment on AO3 that got me thinking and... yeah. I don't hate the previous ending but I don't really like it either, so have a 6k+ offshoot that takes off shortly before the final scene change above. Enjoy! UwU

----

“I would like to state for the record,” Duke was saying as they filed out to the lobby, “that I called it. Bruce as my witness, right down to the bad dye job.”

“I dunno,” Jason replied, “I think the hair is legit. I’m pretty sure Phantom was doing some kind of magic with his voice too. The same kind of magic as Ember, but a different spell? I’m not really sure how to explain it.”

“It makes sense Daniel would learn magic if he took up with magic users,” Damian said stiffly.

“Oh,” Bruce had spotted a stand selling memorabilia once they hit the lobby, “how about we stop and get some of the new merch before meeting them? It would be silly to have Phantom sign something outdated.”

His children all shrugged and went to go join the queue. Bruce pulled Damian off to the side where they were less likely to be overheard. “I know you want to stick to the plan, but Daniel has already proven to be a flight risk.”

Damian scowled mightily, clearly unhappy to hear this. “What do you suggest, then?”

The fact Damian was even asking showed a great deal of restraint as well as a willingness to compromise that Bruce wanted to encourage. “For tonight you and I sit out from the meet’n’greet, then we do some planning. Before you start, I know you want to reach out to him, and I still think you should, but if he runs again we might truly never see him again, he has access to a whole other dimension that we simply cannot get to on our own.”

Damian, who had tensed up to argue, let his shoulders fall slightly, “What do you mean, Father?”

Bruce sighed and glanced at where the others were in the queue. He lowered his voice and bent down to speak into Damian’s ear, wary of being overheard. “Phantom is a known entity to the JL, I’ll brief you later.”

Damian nodded, understanding how vital being properly informed was.

If Danny fled into the Infinite Realms not even the JLD could help them reach out again. It broke Bruce’s heart, knowing that Daniel was Phantom, knowing that he was in fact still fully dead, knowing what he’d been put through when he should be resting in peace. It broke his heart even more knowing he was going to have to expose Damian to all that, Harley had beaten it into his head that just because the children had seen some horrible stuff that it didn’t make them immune to being exposed again.

“Here,” Dick called as he sauntered over, holding a bag out to Damian, “we got you some things too.”

“Thank you, Richard,” Damian said politely, though how eagerly he peered into the bag to see what he’d been given belied how happy he was.

“And for you as well,” Dick said with a smile, offering a smaller bag to Bruce.

“Thank you,” Bruce said genuinely. “Alright, let’s get going before they decide we’re all a bunch of no-shows.” As they walked Bruce leaned in close and said, “Change in parameters, observation only,” softly, and as an extra precaution he said it in French. The others all nodded their agreement.

After flashing their backstage passes, the group was led to the green room, where Bruce decided to take up shop just outside the door, Damian in his shadow. When security gave him a questioning look Bruce just gave one of his patented Brucie smiles, “Oh I’m just the designated driver and wallet for the kids.”

The security snorted in amusement, then went on to ignore him. Bruce sent a few texts off to Babs explaining everything and requesting she set up an abridged version of Phantom’s file for him to present to the others once they get back to the hotel, along with anything else from Amity Park that seemed relevant. Bruce could delude himself it was all a coincidence and the Phantom of Amity Park wasn’t Phantom Dwarfstar.

“Where my Parkers at?”

In their line of work there were no coincidences.

Once that was done he looked in his goodie bag to find the tour’s album, a key chain of Phantom’s face, and an acrylic standee that would be joining the other on his desk at work. He was just browsing Ember’s official site to see if they had a vinyl for Die With a Smile available when he heard newcomers walking down the hallway.

“I told Ember not to do any backstage experiences for this concert,” a feminine voice said in clear frustration.

Bruce looked up and spotted the source, his heart dropped. Walking down the hallway, flanked by two unknown teens, was Jasmine Nightingale, formerly Jasmine Fenton, the daughter of the doctors Fenton who were currently incarcerated for charges of supervillainy. The same Jasmine Nightingale who was mourning a younger brother who she claims her parents murdered, a younger brother who the Fentons had had declared legally dead yet no body had ever turned up. The same Fentons who had captured and tortured the Phantom of Amity Park  and recorded it all ‘in the name of science.’ The recordings where Phantom had cried out for his parents before the doctors had muzzled him.

Bruce felt like he was going to be sick.

He quickly looked back down at his phone as the trio approached, partially to avoid their attention and partially to quickly add Miss Nightingale  and her younger brother to the requested information for the brief later.

“It shouldn’t take too long, just shake some hands, sign some merch, take a few pictures, then presto done!”

“Unless Ember can get them chanting her name.”

“Danny will smack some sense into her if she does,” Jasmine said confidently.

Bruce nearly fumbled his phone, he had to swallow down the bile rising in this throat.

“Uh, who are you?” The trio had stopped just outside the door, one of them looking up at Bruce warily.

“Hm?” Bruce replied as he looked up from his phone. “Oh, don’t mind me, I’m just waiting on the kids.” He nodded to the green room’s door and smiled brightly. The three teens were looking at him suspiciously, but Bruce feigned ignoring them and went back to texting Babs.

One of the unknown teens, a girl with black hair and purple lipstick, bent over so she could look up at Bruce with a furrowed brow. Bruce hoped she wouldn’t decide he looks suspiciously similar to Daniel, from what little he’d seen Daniel took after him in much the same way Damian did.

“Bruce Wayne?” the girl asked.

Bruce looked up and gave one of his gala smiles, “Oh, it’s rare to be recognized so easily outside of Gotham.”

“Yeah, well, my parents have been desperately trying to get invited to one of your shindigs for years.” The girl rolled her eyes, clearly not sharing her parents’ feelings. “What’re you doing here? I wouldn’t expect a billionaire to come to some small time concert.”

“Oh, you know, one of the kids stumbled on a new artist and became a big fan, so I thought coming to see her in person would be a good family bonding experience.” Bruce surreptitiously handed off his small goody bag to Damian, who was still hidden behind Bruce’s bulk, followed by the faint sound of paper sliding against paper.

The three teens just nodded along, though with the way they were looking up at Bruce they were likely thinking how suspiciously similar he looked to Daniel.

The door to the green room opened and the children started filing out. Dick, as a full fledged member of the Justice League had likely already made the Phantom connection, paled when he spotted Jasmine. He valiantly put on one of his gala worthy smiles.

“Dick,” Bruce greeted quickly, “how did it go?”

“Oh, it was great! I got a few things signed.” Dick held up his own bag, which looked a little overfull compared to the others.

“Well come along, let’s not block the hallway, and we have a reservation to get to.” They didn’t, but it was the sort of thing expected of people at their level of wealth. Bruce ushered Dick along, Damian easily slipping into Dick’s shadow and away from those they couldn’t risk recognizing him, and made a show of counting heads as the rest of the children followed. Bruce smiled and waved to Jasmine and her friends, “It was lovely meeting you, have a good night.”

The brunette girl scoffed, but they made no objections as their group left.

“Danny,” Jasmine called as she headed into the room.

“Jazz!”

Any further conversation was cut by the sound of a door closing.

Truly Bruce was glad they didn’t have a reservation to get to, he was sure he couldn’t stomach any food right now.

🎶💚🖤🎵

Once safely inside their suite at the hotel Dick sighed deeply, “So, Phantom,” he said tiredly, “think it’s just a coincidence?”

“He called the people that already knew him Parkers,” Bruce deadpanned.

Dick sighed again, his shoulders drooping. “Yeah.”

“Should we be worried?” Jason asked with a furrowed brow.

“Remember that big to-do recently about expanding the meta protection acts? The Phantom of Amity Park was why.”

“I’ve already asked Babs to send over all the relevant information,” Bruce cut in. He wanted the degree of separation treating this like a case would give him. From the look Dick was giving him he didn’t agree, but it was this risk Bruce losing his lunch.

Dick sighed, but called Babs and put her on speaker. “Hey, Babs, how we doing this?”

“Everyone grab a screen and settle in, I’ve got a presentation all ready to go, I can just sync your screens with mine.”

Settle everyone did. Jason picked an armchair and Cass settled on one of the arms, leaning half against the back of the chair and half against Jason as she looked down at the tablet he was holding. Bruce chose to sit on the couch, holding up a tablet to share with Damian and Dick, who were squeezed in next to him on one side, and Duke who was squeezed in on the other. Tim sat in his own armchair with his own tablet. Once everyone was settled, Babs took over the screen.

“These are the doctors Jack and Madeline Fenton, residents of Amity Park. They’re currently in jail for reckless public endangerment for punching a hole into a dimension full of hostile beings that, due to the Fentons’ negligence, caused wide spread property damage.”

Duke whistled, “That is some supervillainy.”

“Oh it gets worse,” Babs said darkly, “they should also be in jail for kidnapping and torturing a minor, but due to some legal fuckery because of what the kid is it technically wasn’t illegal at the time.”

There were sounds of outrage and protest from the children, save Dick who already knew what was going on.

“I know. There’s also suspicions they murdered their own son, but without a body or a witness there’s no way to prove it.”

“We should probably show them Phantom first,” Bruce suggested.

“I know, I was getting to that.” Babs sighed deeply, “Alright, so the kid in question went by the name Phantom, and unfortunately the only photos I have available of him were from when he was captured.” A photo of Phantom strapped down to a table and muzzled came on the screen. The main features Bruce tried to focus on were the white hair, the bright green eyes, and the white stylized D emblazoned on his black suit.

Dick had pulled out his phone, “I’m sending you something.”

“Oh? What are you… oh! Well that’s a sweet picture.” A moment later a picture of Dick standing between Phantom and Ember, all three smiling brightly at the camera, appeared. “Mind if I update his file with this? Because I gotta say, I love the costume change, and the fact he’s not in the middle of a panic attack.”

“I would appreciate it,” Bruce said. That earned a few odd looks, but they hadn’t seen the other photos, or videos. All that green, all that screaming.

“From what we can gather Phantom was rescued and fled to the Infinite Realms, that’s what’s on the other side of the Fentons’ portal, by an unknown party. What was going on in Amity Park was brought to the League’s attention, the messed up government organization was cleaned up, the laws were changed, the portal safely closed, and justice was served.”

“And these Infinite Realms,” Damian asked, “are another dimension?”

“Yes, or rather it’s every other dimension from what I understand. Everything but the actual afterlife, some of it’s closer to the physical world and that’s where things like underhill and crossing the veil happen, other parts are so far out of sync with us it really is a different dimension. The Fentons called it the ‘Ghost Zone’ because they believed it’s where ghosts uh… existed. And the part they connected to did happen to have a lot of ghosts, but it had other beings too.”

“And that is where Daniel was? He was existing as a ghost near that part of the Infinite Realms and crossed back to this side when the Fentons opened the portal?”

“I’m sure that’s what he wants the world to think of Phantom, but as Bruce brought to my attention we now have a trail. It’s time to look at the Fenton children. There are two, the first is Jasmine Fenton, now Jasmine Nightingale.” A photo of the young woman along with her profile, including age and date of birth, popped up on their screens. “The other is her younger brother, the one supposedly murdered by their parents, Daniel Fention.” A profile for the boy popped up, though no photo was available.

Damian leaned in close to read the profile. “The birthdate is wrong.”

“Wrong how?” Babs asked.

“It’s the right year, but the month and day are reversed.”

Babs hummed, “It’s possible when asked his birthdate he wrote it down European style and then simply went with it.”

“I don’t see how this can be our Daniel,” Damian muttered. Bruce was so proud of him for being inclusive. “We know who his parents…” Damian trailed off, likely having just gotten to the part of the profile that listed Daniel’s adoption date.

“I already checked, the date he was found matches up with the date he went missing.”

“I don’t understand,” Dick said sadly, “if he was revived, why is he a ghost now?”

“We don’t know,” Babs said tiredly. “The earliest recorded appearance of Phantom was a little over a month after the portal opened, but Daniel’s timeline continues on uninterrupted. He keeps going to school, he still used socmed, there’s not even a hospital visit. The only clue we get is a sudden and drastic drop in his grades while teacher complaints about tardiness, skipping classes, and sleeping in class skyrocket.”

“All signs of an unsupported teen vigilante,” Tim pointed out.

“Man, even the kids you don’t raise end up going into cape work,” Jason griped.

“I would like to point out that both Stephanie and Duke were already vigilantes before meeting me, and also that Cass and Damian were already exceptional martial artists,” Bruce defended. Cass and Damian preened at the praise, while Duke looked completely unashamed.

“Maybe Daniel didn’t die?” Dick suggested. “Maybe he learned magic?”

“Maybe he transformed into a fae and was lucky enough to learn glamours fast,” Tim suggested.

“Maybe we should stop speculating and actually ask him?” Duke said sarcastically.

“We are not even sure Daniel Fenton is our Daniel,” Damian insisted.

“Unfortunately for you, we now have a Fenton family photo.” The screen changed yet again, this time to show the Fentons all gathered together. Jasmine and Daniel were much younger than they were now, Jasmine looking to be a young teen while Daniel looked to be not quite in his teens yet. Bruce zoomed in so they could see Daniel’s face more clearly.

“What a sweet baby,” Cass cooed.

“Damn, he and the demon brat could be twins,” Jason said with a laugh.

Damian didn’t respond, he simply looked sad.

“All this to say,” Bruce said to fill the silence, “that Daniel has abilities and a refuge that are currently beyond our understanding, and has already proven himself a flight risk. But he chose to come back to Earth despite the danger he believes himself to be in, so the best thing we can do is find a way to reach out to him that’s more passive, let him feel safe and in control.”

“Cornering him at a show twice would probably have him give up on Ember altogether,” Duke said sagely.

“We have time to plan,” Dick added. “We can keep track of him while the tour goes at least. Likely they’ll all go home to the Infinite Realms when it’s over, but so long as Ember keeps touring and he stays in her band we can keep an eye on him.”

“Fanmail,” Tim suggested.

Damian nodded, “Would a letter be sufficiently passive?” Damian turned to look up at Bruce.

“Hm… perhaps not a direct letter.” Bruce took a moment to consider the matter. “A letter within a letter. Address a letter to Ember asking her to pass on a sealed letter to Daniel if he happens to contact her again.”

“Make sure not to mention Phantom or her band at all,” Dick reminded Damian.

“Skittish feral cat,” Cass agreed solemnly.

“And wait at least until the next concert, too soon and Daniel will think he's been made.”

“Of course, Drake, I am not so foolish as to make such a blunder when being delicate.”

🎶💚🖤🎵

“Fanmail,” Ember said in an annoyed voice.

Danny looked up in confusion, “Morty already doled out the fanmail?” He had a sizable pile, seemed his identity was an open secret at Casper High now and a lot of them were trying to set up being penpals, talking about the good old times of hanging out with Danny. He was currently pointedly ignoring those.

“Well your creepy brother sent me a letter to pass onto you.” She dropped a couple papers on Danny and stormed off.

Oh no, she's jealous of Danny getting more attention than her. He keeps trying to redirect all the attention, it's not Danny's fault he's so charismatic and marketable (Motry's words). Danny sighed and picked the letter up.

Dear Miss Ember McLain,

Danny snorted, how polite and formal.

I hope you and your band are doing well. Please forgive me for inadvertently causing Daniel to flee, it was not my intention. In that vein, I am imposing on your good nature once more to ask that should Daniel ever contact you again to please pass along the enclosed sealed envelope. It is my hope to alleviate some of the very justified fears he has, and hopefully he will be willing to return to his previous musical career as well. Yours sincerely, Damian Wayne

Danny squinted and read the letter again. He doubted Damian wasn’t keeping track of Ember (and thus knows “Frosty” has already been replaced), so he must be pretending not to know. Was it to give Ember a false sense of security? Because surely he knew it wouldn’t comfort Danny at all. Danny frowned (it wasn’t a pout) and read over the letter again, picking it apart for any more hints. He knew it was useless, Damian viewed Ember as a civilian, someone oblivious who it would be easy to manipulate with a few careful words. And well… he wasn’t entirely wrong.

With a deep sigh, Danny tore open the still sealed envelope and began reading.

أخي You were mourned

Danny dropped the letter as if it had bit him, the first phrase burning in his mind. He was mourned? He was mourned?! Giggles bubbled up from Danny’s throat, who would have mourned him? Their severe, distant mother? Their uncaring tutors? Grandfather?! Or perhaps the too serious little boy who only ever saw Danny as competition.

Ancients, he knew the rest of his day was wrecked. He picked up his phone and sent a quick group message telling everyone his brother had sent “Frosty” a letter through Ember and he probably wouldn’t be hanging out tonight. Then he picked the letter back up and started reading.

The letter was about how when he was 10 Damian was introduced to their father, Bruce Wayne, and had lived with him since, even after Mother tried to bring him back into the League. Damian went on to assure Danny that their father is the great man Mother used to tell them stories of when they were children, that they have many rambunctious siblings and a new grandfather who all love Damian very much and already love Danny even though they haven’t met him yet. He ended the letter with a list of ways to contact Damian or their father: phone numbers, e-mails, even a couple snail mail addresses. Damian even included a drawing after signing his name: a dismembered demon.

The head was fully separated from the body by a large margin, most of the empty space filled with blood drops. The head also sported a dagger half buried in the top and large, dark Xs for the eyes. It was very clear Damian was trying to convey their Grandfather had died, likely been killed. Danny didn’t believe it, there was no way he wouldn’t come back in some form or another, his death hardly mattered.

The demon’s body was not bleeding, but it was divided into several pieces. The cuts were clean and mostly straight, only a few zigzags here and there. Danny took that to mean in Grandfather’s absence the Demon had splintered. The League was in pieces, each run by a different person. The only acceptable heirs either in America and refusing to take up the mantle or dead. (Technically Danny was both, but they didn’t know that.)

Danny looked back up at the list of ways to contact his birth family. It felt like a trap. A tempting trap, with the promise of not being found by the League as bait. But the anonymity felt safer, they couldn’t hunt him down if they didn’t even know he was alive (sorta) to even hunt, let alone where to look even if they did suspect.

Was Damian still in contact with Mother? Had he told her about Danny’s revival like he’d told his father’s side of the family? Hah! Family! Danny wasn’t even sure he wanted to give it another chance. They say third time’s the charm, but he couldn’t take that kind of betrayal again.

Danny folded up the letter and tucked it away.

🎶💚🖤🎵

Danny was staring at the letter with blank eyes. Again.

“Dipstick! It’s been three days!”

“I don’t know what to do, Ember,” Danny whined.

“Then call up your brain trust and ask them,” Ember said with a huff.

“I guess,” Danny conceded. He stayed in his spot, hunched over with his chin resting on a table, the letter propped up in front of him. He probably had all the contact information completely memorized by this point.

Ember sat down next to him and patted him on the shoulder. “I think you’re overthinking things.”

“If I do get in contact with him he’ll know I’m still in contact with you, and all that effort to convince him to leave you alone will have been for nothing.”

“Yeah,” Ember agreed, “but wouldn’t it be worth it? To have someplace in the physical realm to go to between tours? A home? A family?”

“That’s Jazz,” Danny said firmly. It was almost his 18th birthday, after that they were going to revive his legal identity and change his name to match Jazz and live with her between tours. Danny was already funneling some of his earnings to her to help get things set up. He felt bad she’d dropped out of college and lost her scholarships just so she could brow beat the JL into finally helping. She was going back to school again, new scholarships and everything, even if they weren’t as good as the old ones.

“You can’t pin your entire attachment to the mortal plane on one person,” Ember said with some exasperation.

“Sam, Tucker, Val, and even Dani since she likes exploring on this side of the portal.”

“Fine whatever. Just make a decision and stick with it, stop sitting here with your wheels spinning and getting nowhere. Call your brain trust already. But do all that later, we’ve got practice right now.” Ember ruffled his hair as she stood back up. Danny sighed, but also got up. He collected his letter before following Ember to go join the others.

That evening Danny did call up his friends and sisters. He’d already explained to them as much as he’d explained to Ember about the whole assassin cult thing, still careful to not give any specifics. For Jazz and Tucker it gave a lot of context to how he’d acted when he first met them. He had somewhat been reined in by the time he met Sam and Val, and obviously he was fully who he is now by the time Dani was born.

“Are you finally ready to tell us about this letter, little brother?” Jazz asked gently.

“I… yeah. Sorry for procrastinating.”

“It’s a lot,” Jazz said firmly. “This is a big deal and could be a huge change for you, I understand you needed time to process all of that first.”

“So, what’d he write?” Dani asked eagerly.

“He said he’s been out of the cult since he was ten-”

“Just a year after you,” Tucker cut in excitedly.

“I… yeah, it is. I don’t think he integrated the same way I did though, he seems very formal.”

“And has access to trackers,” Val added.

“And has access to trackers,” Danny agreed. “But it turns out he’s been living with our father ever since, he gave me a bunch of contact information and says that side of the family wants to meet me.”

“And do you want to?” Jazz asked, voice oh so gentle.

“I… I don’t know,” Danny finally admitted. “He was six the last time I saw him, he’s fifteen now, I don’t know him anymore. He probably barely remembers me, and I was a completely different person back then and… I don’t know. He says he’s out of the cult and has nothing to do with them, but there has to be a connection there somehow or how else would our parents have met? And if I do contact him do I tell them about being Phantom? I’d have to, right?”

“Breathe, baby brother,” Jazz said firmly.

Danny sucked in a deep breath.

“That is a lot, it’s understandable you’d be overwhelmed,” Jazz reassured. “So let’s just take a minute to breathe, alright? Damian gave you the power to decide, you can take all the time in the world to think about it.”

“Until Damian gets impatient and breaks into the bus again,” Danny said snidely.

“Does he even know you got the letter yet?” Val asked.

“No,” Danny said, then took another breath. “He shouldn’t, anyway.”

“So let’s take a minute do a little mindful breathing.” Jazz started loudly exaggerating her breathing, Danny followed along.

“What if I want to meet them?” Dani asked before things could get back on track.

“They don’t even know about you!” Danny said, horrified.

“Yeah, but I’m their family too, right? So who’s our real dad?”

Danny took a deep breath, he’d looked up his father’s name and knew what everyone’s reactions would be. “Bruce Wayne.”

There were a couple sharp breaths sucked in, but rather than the explosion of surprise he expected there was only silence.

“Uh… guys?”

“I don’t know who that is,” Dani said, bored.

“You might already be made,” Sam said carefully.

“What?” Danny asked.

“The first concert, the debut, the VIPs that evening,” Sam seemed to be scrambling verbally a little to give Danny all the context.

“Mr. Wayne was outside the green room, he said one of his kids was a fan and they went to the concert as a family thing,” Jazz filled in.

“The group of implausibly muscular people?” Danny asked faintly. He remembered it because they seemed more interested in him than Ember despite it being his literal debut and them not being from Amity Park. They’d had him sign so much stuff! Ember too, of course, but if that was just a cover…

Danny groaned, “That means they know I got the letter and all that work to convince them I’m not in contact with Ember was for nothing.”

“Sorry dude,” Tucker said with a chuckle.

“Wait,” Dani suddenly yelled, “the guy’s super rich?!”

“His money could run circles around Vlad’s money,” Sam said with an audible eye roll.

Danny just can’t escape the wealth, no matter how hard he tries.

“I think this is a good sign,” Jazz said cheerfully. “Look how respectful they’re being, giving you the choice of contact or not! He’s not barging in after shows or breaking into your hotel rooms, and he’s given you so much information.”

“You know,” Dani said in that special way that meant she was about to be an absolute menace, “Gotham’s not that far. I can go do some spying if you like. Invisibly do some eavesdropping for you.”

Danny wasn’t sure if he should let her, something about Gotham itched at the back of his brain.

“Oh!” Sam said eagerly, “See if you can get Poison Ivy’s signature for me while you’re there.”

“And maybe Batman’s too,” Tucker said with a laugh.

What?!

“He was very polite the few times I met him,” Jazz added.

“No wait, hold up!” Danny said, suddenly connecting a bunch of dots. “Holy shit! That’s what was bugging me, Batman’s from Gotham! Oh ancients!”

“Yeah,” Val said slowly. “Superman is from Metropolis, Wonder Woman is from Themyscira, and Batman is from Gotham.”

“Son of the bat!” Danny yelled in much the same way one might say ‘son of a bitch.’

“Huh?” A few of them asked.

“Me! I’m son of the bat, it’s one of the things we were called as kids!” That and son of the demon and a few other things.

“WHAT?!” Everyone cried.

“Bruce Wayne is Batman?!” Val asked in shock.

“The himbo?!” Sam sounded offended.

“I thought he just funded Batman,” Tucker murmured.

“So he’s one of the good guys, right?” Dani was asking with a cackle. 

“Oh my god, I’ve been made! I’ve been made three times over at least!” Danny hopped up and started pacing his hotel room. “There’s no way the man Grandfather called the Detective hasn’t already figured out my entire life story and made all the connections!”

“In that case,” Val said far too reasonably, “they know you’re not just still in contact with Ember but touring with her too. No point in avoiding them as some kind of way to protect her.”

“Batman did a lot of work to help expand meta rights to include you,” Jazz added. “He was very polite and professional the few times I met him.”

“He didn’t know yet,” Danny moaned. “About me being your brother. Or rather about having another son at all yet, Damian said so in his letter. He didn’t know about Damian until Mother dropped him off, apparently.”

“Well!” Jazz said, she certainly seemed to have opinions about that she’d keep to herself. For now.

“So,” Tucker said, drawing the sound out, “now what?”

“I still don’t know,” Danny said in frustration. “It doesn’t change the fact I still haven’t seen Damian since he was six, not really.”

“So that means take getting to know him again slowly,” Jazz said in her gentle voice. “You can start with just texting, don’t even worry about an in person meeting until after this tour’s over.”

“And don’t say you’re still scared of your mom’s cult,” Val said sternly. “Your dad’s Batman! If anyone can protect you from them it’s him.”

“You did say your little brother’s been out for years,” Sam backed her up.

“He even said Mother tried to bring him back and he refused,” Danny confirmed tiredly.

“There you go,” Val said smugly.

“Uh guys? We might have a problem,” Tucker said nervously. “Little Dani hung up.”

“What?” Several of them asked.

“Looks like it was a couple minutes ago, dropped right out of the call.”

“Oh no,” Danny said in horror, “she probably went to Gotham. I’ve gotta go.” He hung up and transformed, diving through the hotel’s roof without another thought.

🎶💚🖤🎵

Batman was in the middle of his patrol when a figured popped out of thin air in front of him. A girl, around Robin’s age if he had to guess, glowing white hair held back in a ponytail, black and white suit, and when she had stopped being bent over while breathing heavily: glowing green eyes and an all too familiar stylized D on her chest.

“You are hard to find!” The girl crowed.

Batman relaxed his defensive stance, though he was staying alert. “And you are?”

“Dani with an I. Is it true? Danny thinks you’re his dad. The other Danny, with a Y.”

Batman tapped the comm in his ear, “Robin.” He waited for the comm to be channeled to the correct line, “Do you have a sister you never told us about?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Robin replied warily.

“Sister?” Orphan asked hopefully. As expected, the question had caught Oracle’s attention, and now all the Gotham vigilantes were on the one channel.

“I mean, kinda?” Dani said, unable to hear the chaos erupting over comms. She drifted in the air slightly, “He calls me that now, and we’re working on getting me a legal ID and all that. But technically I’m his clone.”

“His clone,” Batman repeated, causing the chaos to abruptly cut off. Robin scoffed, but otherwise didn’t reply. Batman had known Phantom had been involved in cape work before his capture and escape, so a clone shouldn’t be as much of a surprise as it was.

“Yeah, so anyway… is it true?”

Batman simply nodded.

Dani with an I grinned and did a fist bump, “Awesome! He’s being such a nervous Nelly about the whole thing, has himself all twisted up in knots. But like, you’re one of the good guys! So now I can rub it in his face that I got to meet you first.”

Far too trusting, but also younger than she looks, and that’s very young to begin with. Batman fully relaxed, or as much as he ever let himself relax while in the cowl, and held a hand up to Dani. “It’s nice to meet you.”

She floated a little lower to be even with him and eagerly took his hand to shake. “Nice to meet you too, pops!”

Bruce couldn’t help smiling at that, it was quite refreshing having a child who’s so friendly and open.

Dani was hit by a blur of glowing black and white. She and her attacker hit the roof Batman was standing on, bounced up into the air, and stayed there. Batman stood tensed, having just stopped himself from throwing the batarang in his hand when he recognized the attacker.

“Dani! I can’t believe you!” Phantom was wrestling with Dani, maneuvering her into a headlock.

“You were dragging your feet, we all know this is how things were going to end up!”

“Noogies for ten thousand years!”

“Nooooo!” Dani shrieked as Phantom administered the threatened noogie.

Batman smiled to himself as he tucked the batarang away. Not once has he ever encountered a clone made for ethical, upstanding reasons, and yet here Phantom was antagonizing his clone as if she were a beloved little sister. They’ll get along well with the others. He stepped forward and cleared his throat to get the children’s attention. “Hello, Phantom.”

Phantom looked up and visibly paled, eyes huge. He winked out of the visible spectrum, then winked back in. Phantom looked down at Dani with a glare, then they winked out and back in again.

“Will you quit that,” Phantom hissed.

“No, just say hello!”

“It doesn’t have to be more than hello,” Batman said gently. “I’m just glad I finally get to meet you.” He held a hand up to Phantom.

Phantom hesitated for a moment, then finally let Dani go so he could give Batman a brief handshake. “Hello, sir.”

“You got the letter?” It was a useless question, they both knew he did, but it was the easiest opening.

“Yeah, I got the letter.”

Batman nodded, “It would be nice to hear from you then.” When Phantom looked confused Batman decided to elaborate, “There are a lot of us, we can be quite overwhelming. I don’t expect you to just come home with us tonight, especially when you have a prior commitment.”

“He means Ember,” Dani loudly whispered.

“I know that,” Phantom groused.

Batman heard the sound of tires squealing, followed by a grapple being used. Likely they wouldn’t be alone for much longer. “The plan was always to get to know you slowly, we’re all strangers right now, it’ll take time for that to change.”

“Jazz said the same thing,” Phantom grumbled.

“And Jazz was right,” Dani said with a grin.

“I have a feeling your older sister has an annoying habit of always being right,” Batman said with a smirk.

“Akhi!”

Phantom’s head snapped over to where Robin’s voice had come from, darting up into air and dragging Dani with him, shoving her behind him. He relaxed a little when he realized it was Robin running up to them.

“Akhi, please don’t run again!” Robin slowed as he approached, likely soothed by the fact that Phantom lowered a little, though still out of reach. “I did not expect you to come to Gotham so soon.”

“That’s my fault,” Dani chirped as she leaned out from behind Phantom. “He only made the Gotham-Bat connection just now, it was so funny!”

Phantom’s face started glowing green.

“I had to come meet you for myself, it just had the bonus of making Mr. Anxiety finally stop talking himself in circles.”

Phantom groaned in embarrassment, “Dani!”

“What? It’s true!”

“His anxiety is understandable after what he’s been through,” Batman said firmly. Then he looked Phantom in the eyes, “And none of it was your fault.”

Phantom’s face flushed green once more as he averted his gaze.

“So, now what?” Dani asked.

“If you have your phones on you we can exchange information,” Batman offered.

Phantom scoffed, “I already have it all.”

“In your phone?” Robin asked.

Phantom’s face glowed even brighter. “Fine, here.” He pulled out his phone, unlocked it, and tossed it to Robin.

Dani darted around her brother and zoomed right up to Batman, her phone already held out for him. He quickly put in Bruce’s private contact information and sent himself a text so he would have hers. When that was done, he handed Dani her phone back.

There was an awkward silence after that, no one quite sure what to say.

“Well this has been nice and all,” Phantom started, “but I’m sure you’ve got important crime fighting stuff to get back to.”

Dani snorted a laugh.

“It was good meeting you both,” Batman said with a nod.

Phantom nodded back. Then he grabbed his little sister and they both vanished into thin air.

“He’ll be in contact,” Batman told Robin, trying to be comforting.

“Of course he will. And as he said, I have patrol to get back to.” Robin turned and stalked to the edge of the roof, where he leapt off.

“Two for one,” Orphan said with a giggle over comms.

“It certainly seems that way,” Batman growled. Inside he was smiling, Dani had certainly given them a better chance to get to know Danny, and he was looking forward to getting to know his new daughter as well.

“Are you going to inform Mother she now has a daughter?” Robin asked.

“Perhaps… in about ten years or so.”

That's Not How You Keep a Low Profile

Available on AO3

DPxDC

Danny joins Ember's backup band and goes with them on tour, he didn't take into account that he was in hiding from several groups and organizations chasing after him for various reasons. Who knew Ember would get popular enough to be noticed by one of them?

🎵🎸🎶

Damian entered the classroom to find Skylar and a couple of her friends standing off to the side, clustered around one girl holding a phone that was playing loud rock-and-roll music. Damian set his bag down at his desk, then went to go join them. “Good morning, Skylar.”

“Damian, hi!” Skylar greeted cheerfully, then moved so Damian could join their group. He obligingly moved in so he could also peer down at the video playing on the girl’s phone. “It’s this new artist who’s been getting popular recently, Ember McLain. She’s doing a tour right now and is going to be pretty close to us, just over in Pennsylvania.”

Damian studied the vocal artist, a young woman dressed in mostly black with a few silver accents, bright blue hair, and what he believed Brown had called “corpse paint” make up. Though from the way her hair seemed to almost defy gravity and the blue skin tone of her back up musicians perhaps she was a meta or alien like them. The exception was a baseline human young man dressed in a similar style to McLain with dark hair and a regular skin tone, playing back up guitar and doing back up vocals.

Damian frowned, something about the back up vocalist was familiar.

The song wound down, the back up vocalist abandoned his stand mic to move to front stage next to McLain while swinging his guitar behind himself. The keyboardist picked up a virulently pink guitar and took the vocalist's place. Damian pointed at the phone, “Who is he?”

“That’s Frosty McGee, usually he’s the back up vocalist but they have a duet.”

Damian scrunched up his nose, but chose not to comment on the poorly chosen stage name. The camera zoomed in, finally giving him a clear view of the older teen’s face as he opened his mouth and started singing.

Damian’s whole body went cold.

It couldn’t be, it just couldn’t. He’d watched his older brother die with his own eyes, lowered into the Lazarus Pit never to rise. And surely if he did somehow survive he wouldn’t be singing for some rock-and-roll band in America, he would’ve found some way to return home. Surely.

“This…” Damian tried not to let his face twist as he spoke the name, “Frosty McGee is a stage name, correct? What’s his real name?”

Skylar looked thoughtful as she pulled out her own phone and began typing away. “I don’t think their real names are public,” She said slowly as she navigated to the artist’s website. While she went to the “about” page, Damian pulled out his own phone to follow Skylar to the website. “Yeah, all they have listed are everyone’s stage names.”

Damian just nodded, already looking up their tour information.

🎵🎸🎶

Danny collapsed into a chair in the green room, exhausted after spending half the night tapping into his ghostly wail while in human form. Ember and the zombies looked fresh as ever, the consequence of Danny being the only one with a heart beat in the band.

“Your stamina’s getting better,” Ember offered with a smirk.

Danny resisted flipping her off, he knew she really meant it, even if she seemed to like getting under his skin a little too much.

“Look alive,” Mortimer, their manager, said as he walked into the room. “Someone actually bought a VIP ticket with the backstage experience, so you’re going to meet a fan.”

Ember perked up, already excited. “Just one? Or a whole group?”

“Just the one, so be ready to give him the full experience.” Morty left then, likely to go walk their fan back.

“Try to look a little tired at least, you are supposed to be a normal human,” Danny groused as he sat up and went about mopping up what sweat he could without smearing his makeup.

Ember scoffed, “No, we’re metas, Danny. You’re the one who’s supposed to be normal.”

“Or aliens,” Gunther said with his craggly voice. “We never did decide which one we like better.”

“You can be aliens, I’m a meta,” Ember declared proudly.

There was a knock on the door. Everyone straighted and turned to face the door, a bright smile spread on Ember’s face.

Danny’s own soft smile fell as he watched their fan enter and look around the room. A boy, the same age Danny was when he stepped into the portal, with an all too familiar face. His sharp green eyes zeroed in on Danny. There was a long tense moment where everyone simply stood, Damian just inside the door and Danny just in front of his chair (when had he stood?), staring at each other.

“Akhi?”

In a panic Danny turned partly invisible, “It’s been eight years Damian, let me go.” He finished slipping from human sight, then intangibly slipped right out of the room. He raced invisibly through hallways and walls until he got to their tour bus. Technically as ghosts they didn’t need it, but 1) the living expected that sort of thing and 2) Ember insisted on doing the whole experience. (He knew it was really because as someone who wasn’t entirely ghost Danny did actually need someplace to sleep and eat and shower and all that, that Ember actually got the tour bus for him.)

Once inside Danny let his powers fade as he curled up on a seat in the back, arms wrapped around his legs and face buried in his knees. Stupid! Why did he say that? Why did he run?!

He knew why.

“Baby-pop?” Ember called faintly, phasing into the van.

“Here,” Danny called miserably.

“Okay, good. We're all here just open a portal and we'll skedaddle.”

Danny sniffled but nodded. He looked up to find everyone was already gathered in the bus, all staring at him with worried faces. “Right, yeah, okay, I can do this.”

Rock got behind the wheel while everyone else settled in. Danny had to leave the bus, having been taught by Wulf on making portals. Not every ghost could learn, but Danny was predisposed to it because… well, it was pretty obvious why.

Danny clawed open a portal to Ember's lair, grabbing an edge and pulling it wide enough to fit the whole bus. The bus trundled through and Danny quickly followed, closing the portal behind him.

Almost on reflex he transformed once fully in the Realms, taking a deep (but completely unnecessary) breath of that crisp, fresh ectoplasm. The others filed off the bus, Ember put a gentle hand on Danny’s arm. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Good.” Ember crossed her arms and gave Danny a Look™, “Care to explain what just happened?”

Danny groaned, he knew this was coming. “I’d rather not.”

Everyone frowned at him.

Danny scrubbed at his eyes briefly. “I haven’t told anyone, not even Sam and Tucker, not even Jazz!”

“So… do you want to conference call them in and explain it to everyone at once? Or is this a dead men tell no tales kind of situation?”

Danny gave Ember his own Look™. “I know what gossips ghosts are.”

“Hey,” Gunther cut in, “if you want us to not tell anyone we won’t tell anyone. Promise.”

Danny groaned as he thought it over, but he kinda did owe them an explanation. “Alright, but can we go somewhere a little more comfortable first? I’m still exhausted.” He wasn’t, not physically. But ghosts aren’t physical so being emotionally exhausted was basically the same thing.

“Yeah, let’s go hit my lounge.” Ember slung an arm over Danny’s shoulder and led him away from the bus.

Danny smiled, feeling loved and cared for. It was still a little weird sometimes, realizing how much his former rogues actually liked him despite how at odds they’d been at the start. They’d basically been coddling him ever since…

Once in the lounge everyone picked a plush, overstuffed piece of furniture to literally lounge on. Ember had no shoes off rule, it felt weird to just put his boots up on a couch, so Danny chose to slouch comfortably into the back while his legs stretched out to the floor. Once everyone was settled, they all looked over at Danny expectantly.

How to even start? “So uh… I’m adopted.”

“Wait, how does Jazz not know you’re adopted?” Ember exclaimed.

“Oh no, that’s the part everyone actually knows, or at least everyone I knew back then. It’s everything before that that no one knows.”

“That kid is from your bio fam,” Steve wheezed. Everyone looked at him, then back to Danny.

He shrugged and looked down at his gloves, “Yeah. That’s Damian, my little brother.”

“And you just ran from him because?” Ember prompted.

Gunther snorted, “Didn’t just run, he literally ghosted the kid.”

Danny couldn’t help blushing, “I panicked, okay?”

Everyone relaxed at that, smiling brightly at Danny’s embarrassment. Morty pulled out his phone and started tapping away, “Should I get in contact with him about a redo then?”

“No!” Danny yelped, his voice cracking like it hadn’t in almost two months. He flushed harder, Ember was going to tease him about that later. “No, no absolutely not. Honestly if he’s found me then that means Mother and Grandfather know I’m still alive after all. I think… I think I’m going to have to stay in the Realms.”

“What?!”

“Baby-pop, no!”

“You can’t!”

Danny looked down at his gloves, picking at the seems. “Look, no adoption starts for happy reasons, every adoption comes from a tragic backstory. My birth family is dangerous, even to us. No, listen,” Danny said harshly when the others scoffed. “They’re dangerous, they’ll hurt you trying to get me back.”

Ember’s lips thinned, “Are they ghost hunters like the-” she cut herself off, her face getting all the grimmer.

Danny shook his head, “No, magic users. They won’t have to know what you are to use magic artifacts against you. After all, blood blossoms were believed to be harmful to witches, it was just coincidence they were harmful to ghosts.”

“Okay,” Ember said, looking over to the rest of the band. “So Frosty McGee is quitting, but that doesn’t mean you can’t still hang around us. You can be a roadie,” Ember cut in when Danny tried to protest. “Wear one of those medical masks when you’re working, never be on stage or in front of a camera, that’s fine. But we still need you, Danny. You’re the one who’s been dead the shortest, you know how things work now. You’re the one that suggested I get a manager and start doing things legit instead of just overshadowing my way into gigs.”

“We didn’t even know metas were a thing until you told us,” Gunther added.

“I wasn’t aware of how much technology had advanced,” Morty added. “If it weren’t for you we would have a completely outdated website and no youtube channel. We’d probably only have half the merch we currently have available.”

“Don't forget the portals,” Steve wheezed.

“Yeah! Without portals we couldn’t make regular pit stops back to the Realms to recharge. So we need you, Danny. Frosty can quit, but don’t let Danny abandon us.”

Danny sighed, but he couldn’t help smiling at his friends, even if his bottom lip was wobbling dangerously. “Alright, I get it. I’ll stay, a roadie you say?”

“It’ll make us loading and unloading the bus more believable if we have hired muscle pretending to do it.” Morty smirked down at his phone.

“Ugh, gonna make me earn my keep.”

🎵🎸🎶

Damian stood in the green room in shock, unsure what had just happened. His mouth felt dry, his skin felt cold, every hair on his body was standing on end, his hands felt clammy. Daniel had just vanished right before his eyes. He turned to ask someone, anyone, what had just happened.

The room was empty.

Damian looked around, the door behind him was still closed, there were no other exits, he was the only living being in the room.

Metas, Damian reminded himself. He was fairly certain McLain and her band members were metas, likely the phrase Daniel had spoken was actually a code phrase for immediate evac. Damian turned and left the room, quickly making his way further into the building and out to the back. There was an employee parking garage just behind the venue that surely the band’s equipment vehicles were kept in during the show.

The garage was not completely empty, but it was completely bereft of trailers, tour buses, or other equipment hauling vehicles. Damian had been too late, they had fled completely. Damian kicked a support pillar in frustration, it didn’t help.

All he knew was his brother lived, and for some reason he chose not to return home, had fled at the mere sight of Damian.

Well, he would have some research to do. But before that, he had to return home before his absence became suspicious, there was only so long his careful web of misdirection would hold.

The next morning he returned to the manor, no one the wiser. Thomas was on his way out and greeted Damian as he entered. “Hey, how was the sleepover?”

“It was an experience,” Damian commented absently.

Thomas laughed at Damian’s response. “I’m glad you had fun.”

He was about to leave when Damian realized this was the perfect opportunity for some information gathering. “One of my peers said something I didn’t understand, I believe it was a meme.”

“Oh yeah? Which one?”

Most memes followed a format where the exact details could be adjusted to the situation at hand. Considering Daniel had said Damian’s name and the specific number of years he’d been -dead- missing likely he could swap those out for less suspicious details. “It’s been two years Thomas, let me go.”

“Ah, okay so you just claimed to be a ghost or a grief fueled hallucination and that I need to get my shi- uh… stuff. Together. My stuff together. Anyway, usually whoever says that also disappears right after they say it.”

“And is this meme recent?”

Thomas shrugged. “Eh, not really? The concept’s been around for decades at least, even in that format, but I don’t think I’ve seen it used as a reaction until a little bit ago.”

Damian nodded, “Thank you for the clarification.”

“No problem.” Thomas waved and was on his way. Damian went to his room to take care of his overnight bag. A quick check of McLain’s website showed no change, but that was to be expected so soon after they fled. He wondered if the whole tour would be cancelled.

Damian spent the next few days practically haunting McLain’s website (when he wasn’t systematically searching for Daniel’s likeness on public cameras), as well as the website of the tour’s next venue. He even went so far so to create a throw away email, signed it up for McLain’s fan club, and set it to alert him of incoming emails. Thus he was one of the first to find out when the next concert was suddenly cancelled, all tickets refunded. The newsletter that followed informed the fans that, “Sadly Frosty McGee has had to part ways with us due to some matters Frosty wishes to remain private. We wish him and his family well.” It went on to promise that though the next concert was cancelled the rest of the tour would continue as scheduled.

So Daniel had fled.

Damian wasn’t surprised, judging from his reaction Daniel felt his new identity had been compromised. Damian just didn’t understand why. Why Daniel was afraid of him. Why he hadn’t attempted to contact Damian. Why he hadn’t come home.

He had been away from the League and Grandfather’s influence long enough to understand why Daniel would choose not to go back to them, but Damian had been out of the League for five years, did Daniel not know? Had he not heard the news about famous billionaire Bruce Wayne’s youngest and only (known) blood related son?

It didn’t matter, Damian wouldn’t have the answers to any of his questions unless he found Daniel again. Even if he has fled again, Damian really only has the one lead and he would follow it.

In the meantime he had his regular duties to attend to.

🎵🎸🎶

“C'mon, what are you doing just sitting around? It's time for lessons.”

“What?” Danny looked up from where he was slouched in a chair with phone in hand, blinking at Ember.

“Lessons, we still haven't gotten you to sing and play at the same time yet.”

“I… quit… the band?”

“Frosty quit the band, I figure we can use this time to really work on your skills so they're finally up to snuff when we debut Phantom.”

“What?”

“What do you mean what?” Ember huffed and rolled her eyes. “Do you know how many people asked for refunds when we said you quit? I'm not letting any more fans get away.”

Danny just kept blinking, “You know Phantom is in hiding just as much as Danny, right?”

“So you get a costume change and pick a different stage name. Your old duds are outdated anyway.”

“It's what I died in???”

“And you think I died dressed like this?”

Danny wasn't sure how to respond to that.

“So we get you some new duds, pick out a better stage name, and wear makeup while performing. Do you know what contouring can do?”

“It would be suspicious-”

“If we brought you in right now,” Ember cut him off. “Which is why we're aiming for the next tour, which will give us time to get everything set up, including improving your abysmal guitar skills.”

Danny couldn't help smiling, “Yeah. Yeah, okay, let's get to it then.”

🎵🎸🎶

When the time came, Damian knew better than to buy another VIP ticket, they would be on guard for that. This time he decided to find and sneak into their vehicle while the concert was held. There was the risk the band would take a taxi or uber to their hotel instead, but considering the size of the venue and number of tickets sold they would likely attempt to reduce spending, especially since they missed the previous concert. It was a simple matter to pick the lock and sneak onto the bus. He sat waiting in the driver’s seat, making it impossible for them to drive off without him.

McLain stood just outside the bus and opened the door with a scowl on her face, crossing her arms once the door was open. “I could have you arrested for this.”

“I merely have a few questions for you.”

“I should sue you for lost revenue, do you know how much we lost in deposits alone? All those tickets we had to give a full refund on. Not to mention we lost 10% of sales for the rest of the tour, which might not sound like much but when you’re counting pennies that’s a lot!”

“How does Frosty McGee feel about having such loyal fans?”

McLain threw her arms in the air, “I don’t know! We haven’t heard from him since he left. Just took one look at you, packed what he could fit in one bag, and hopped the next bus.”

“And he told you nothing?”

“He told us he was oh for two on families, but you were from the first set of fuck ups and he wasn’t going back.”

That was disheartening to hear. It sounded as if Daniel had found a family to take him in the way Father took in children, but it also sounded as if they were not good to him the way Father is with his children. “Who was his second family?” Damian would make them pay.

“Fuck off, I’m not telling you that. It doesn’t change anything anyway, they know where Frosty is even less than us.”

Damian would like to find out what Daniel had been up to since his disappearance, there was also the chance it would give him a better idea of Daniel’s direction, and certainly he would like to find out what this so-called family did and find a way to get justice for Daniel, but McLain was not wrong that little of that would be useful in tracking Daniel down. He pulled a business card from a pocket and held it out to her. “If he does contact you again.”

“No.” Despite her words she took the card. She took it and set it on fire before dropping it to the asphalt beneath her feet. “In the extremely unlikely event he does get back in contact, I’m not telling you. He clearly wants nothing to do with you, got spooked real bad.” She crossed her arms again and looked away. “I’m worried.”

“Very well.” Damian descended the bus’s stairs, the band moving aside to glare at him as he passed. “You’re not the only one worried for him, it may have been years but he’s still my brother.”

“That’s none of our business.” McLain waved him off as she entered the bus, the manager and the rest of the band following behind her. Damian stood to the side and watched as the bus trundled out of the parking lot, leaving him behind.

🎵🎸🎶

Danny watched Damian until he was out of sight, going so far as to lean invisibly out of the bus. Once the building they were passing came between him and his little brother, he finally moved back inside and quietly scoured the bus.

“Baby-pop?” Ember asked as she watched him methodically search high and low.

Danny put a finger up to his lips, then went back to scouring. One thing Danny had learned over the years is that ghosts have a 6th sense for when they’re being observed, they always know when being watched or listened to. Danny felt that subtle itch now, a scratch at the back of his brain that felt a lot like how on edge he used to be all the time, like the paranoia Grandfather had carefully beaten into him.

The first bug he found was just a tracker, a weirdly spiky oval with a tiny red light to let him know it worked. Well, that he would leave on the bus, their whereabouts would be public anyway, and if only one of the bugs goes out Damian might not come back to plant more. He handed it to Morty with another finger over his lips again, he’d answer questions after he found the other bug.

Eventually he found the listening bug, this one a plain little button shape. It almost looked like an oversized button, the holes for the mic a good disguise. This one he showed to the others before phasing his arm out the car and dropping it in the road. He did one more sweep to make sure there weren’t any others, double checked the weirdly spiky tracker didn’t have any tiny cameras or mics attached, by the time he finally sat down to explain the bus was parked in the hotel's lot.

“The one I dropped outside was a listening device, that one I gave you is a tracker. Since where we’re going on tour is already publicly available I don’t see a point to getting rid of that one too, though we should probably leave it behind when we go to the Realms.”

“Ancients,” Morty murmured, staring down at the tracker nervously.

“Not painting a very reassuring picture,” Gunther agreed.

“Danny,” Ember said softly, “your little brother broke into our bus and hid bugs inside.”

Danny sighed as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Right, this is the part even Jazz doesn’t know about. You need to keep this to yourselves, you can’t even hint you know what I’m about to tell you.”

Everyone nodded.

“Jazz and… the Fentons believe I was raised in a cult before I met them. Honestly, looking back at it now, they’re right. An incredibly violent assassin cult that worships pools of nasty smelling, bubbling, glowing, green water.”

Everyone was staring at him with wide eyes, forgetting to even pretend to breathe.

“The person who both started and runs this cult is my Grandfather, who is over five hundred years old and still alive. Well… mostly, so far as I can tell. I didn’t know about ectoplasm or the Realms back then, so it’s kinda shifted my view of a few things but I can’t really confirm anything without going back there, yanno?”

“That is… a lot,” Morty said quietly.

“Have you ever assassinated anyone?” Gunther asked.

“I was nine when I got out,” Danny deflected.

“Has your brother assassinated anyone?” Rock asked.

Danny shrugged, “I dunno, probably?”

“Ancients,” Morty murmured again.

“So we’re just… keeping this?” Ember plucked the tracker from Morty’s open palm.

“I’m hoping if the tracker keeps working and is accurate he won’t break in and put more devices in here.”

“Lovely.”

“I can see why you were hiding,��� Morty said tiredly.

“And also why I didn’t want to tell anyone,” Danny added. “Ghost hunters may have all the specialized tools to hurt us, but most of the ones we’ve met so far are pretty incompetent.” It had taken Danny letting his guard down for him to be caught in the first place, and by the time he had realized the betrayal it had been too late.

“That explains the hat though,” Steeve wheezed with a laugh.

Danny hadn’t just been wearing one of those paper medical masks, he’d added a brimmed hat to hide his hair and face from cameras. The mask got hot and sweaty sometimes!

“Well this just makes our decision all the better, you'll blend in better if we have other roadies,” Ember said confidently.

Danny perked up. “Oh? Who'd you get? Johnny actually looks human, I could blend in with him. And Kitty would kill it as security.”

“They're waiting in the hotel, you'll see.” Ember winked as she got up and exited the bus. Danny followed, eager to see more familiar faces. 

The faces waiting for him in the hotel were familiar, but not the ones he expected.

“Sam! Tucker!” He ran to them, arms open wide. His best friends eagerly opened their own arms in welcome. It was like coming home and breathing for the first time, being in his best friends’ arms. Only one thing could make it better, but no annoying older sisters were in sight. Danny wasn't going to let that ruin this reunion, though.

Danny leaned back just enough to look Sam and Tucker in the eyes. “What are you doing here? How?!”

“We took our finals early,” Sam supplied. “And since the last week is just classroom parties we took it off.”

“We're gonna spend the whole summer with you!” Tucker grinned so brightly Danny thought he might go blind. Or it might just be the tears brimming.

“You guys!” Danny snuffled and swiped at his eyes.

“Check it out.” Tucker turned around to show the back of his shirt, which had “STAFF” in big white letters across the top, stark against the black shirt, and the tour's info below.

Sam pulled out a black fabric face mask from her pocket and offered it to Danny. He held it up to find it also had “STAFF” in bold white letters across what felt like very breathable fabric. It probably wouldn't stop a sneeze, but it worked great as a disguise.

Danny couldn't help barking out a bright laugh, “You guys going to help me load and unload the band's gear?”

Tucker scoffed, “You wish, I'm Ember's new tech guy.”

“Makeup and costumes,” Sam said in a deadpan before raising her voice slightly. “Which seems pretty sexist.”

“Do you want to help Danny cart gear or not?” Ember asked from where she and the others were watching their reunion.

Sam made a face and sighed, “Makeup and costumes it is.”

“So glad we got that figured out. Hey dipstick, open a portal to my lair. The boys and I are gonna party.”

Danny rolled his eyes but obliged. Honestly it was sweet of them to let him have the room to himself while he and his best friends caught up. Danny was so lucky to have so many good friends.

🎵🎸🎶

After Damian’s lackluster conversation with McLain, dashing any hopes for progress or leads, it was time he told Father and the others the situation. Truly he knew he should have before now, springing Daniel on Father would not be kind, he had simply hoped to have Daniel's whereabouts known so Father could meet him as soon as he was ready. Instead Damian was going to need to request assistance in tracking Daniel down.

It felt like a personal failure.

Still, to tell Father about his living, if missing, son was far preferable than him finding out about Daniel some other way and believing him dead. Damian had just finished setting up his presentation on the large screen TV in the media room when Father and Alfred entered.

“All ready to go, chum?”

“Yes, Father, we’re just waiting on the others now.”

Alfred began setting out drinks and snacks while Father took a seat in one of the armchairs. “While we wait, any chance of a hint on what all this is about?”

Damian was unsure how to answer, the news was not all bad but it seemed Father was under the impression this was some left over school project or something of the like. “It is a very serious matter,” was all Damian ended up saying.

Father smiled, “I’m sure it is, you wouldn’t have gone to all this effort otherwise.”

Damian nodded, glad Father understood.

Soon the others began trickling in. Thomas and Cain, as other residents of the manor, had been invited, Richard of course was also invited as he would be devastated to learn of a new brother any other way, Gordon and (reluctantly) Drake had been invited as Damian would be requesting their help in searching for Daniel, and Todd had been invited purely as curtesy and had, expectedly, turned the invitation down. Damian had considered some of the other Gotham vigilantes, but had ultimately decided against it. There were already enough people crowding into the room.

Once everyone had arrived and found their seats, Damian started his rehearsed presentation. “Thank you all for coming, I appreciate the support. I’m afraid this will not be as light hearted as you may be expecting. In fact, I have some rather distressing news. Father, at Mother’s behest I have been keeping a secret from you.”

Father sat up straighter, his pleased smile falling into a frown.

Damian took a deep breath, “I am not your firstborn, I had an older brother.”

As expected, this announcement caused quite the stir. There were a few shocked gasps, Richard looked devastated, Father had hunched forward to rest his elbows on his knees while staring down at the floor, Alfred moved to stand beside father with a hand on his shoulder.

Damian gave them a moment to digest what he had just told them before moving on. “His name was Daniel, when he was nine and I was six he went on a mission and came back successful but critically injured. Grandfather granted him permission to use one of the smaller Lazarus Pits, but he died en route. Mother put him in the Pit anyway, but the device used to lower him broke and his body never surfaced.”

“Oh Dami,” Richard said softly, a hand held out as if he would pull Damian into a hug.

“I’m telling you all this now because five weeks ago I saw him in a video for a performing artist.” Damian started the visual portion of his presentation, beginning with with a promotional photo of McLain and Daniel, then zoomed in on Daniel’s face.

Everyone’s heads snapped back up, entire focus laser guided to Daniel’s picture.

“He is using the stage name Frosty McGee,” Damian paused to allow the snickers and guffaws he had been expecting, he switched to a different promotional photo, this one including Daniel’s bandmates, “and was performing as a back up guitarist and singer for the artist known as Ember McLain. As they were, and still are, touring I attended a concert under a VIP ticket that included meeting the artists after the show.”

Father frowned, “I didn’t know you went to a concert.”

“It was an information gathering mission for personal reasons, of course you were not informed. I simply wanted to be sure I was not mistaken and McGee was actually Daniel before I burdened you with this distressing secret.”

“Daniel isn’t a burden, none of you are a burden,” Father said tiredly.

“And you confirmed that Frosty is Daniel?” Tim asked rather loudly.

“Yes, Drake. Unfortunately he recognized me as well. He said, and I quote, ‘It’s been eight years Damian, let me go.’ Then he and the other artists all vanished into thin air.”

There were more titters and guffaws. Thomas smiled brightly, “Ah, so that’s why you asked about that meme.”

There were a few frowns, clearly the others already putting puzzle pieces together. “Vanished?” Drake asked.

“I believe the other backup band members may be metas, possibly McLain herself as well. Invisibility is not a common met ability, but it is not unheard of either.”

“Or magic,” Cain offered.

Damian nodded to her, “Magic is also a possibility. Unfortunately,” Damian clicked to the announcement about Frosty McGee leaving the band, “McLain claims Daniel packed his belongings and left without any further explanation, neither she nor her companions have heard from him since.”

“Oh no!” Richard and Gordon both said together.

“I have monitored all publicly available modes of transport out of Midville, Pennsylvania, but I have not been able to track Daniel’s movements.”

“Send me what you got, I’ll see what I can do,” Gordon ordered.

Damian nodded, glad to have her help. “There is one last matter. McLain said Daniel had been adopted, but he was hiding from them as well, I suspect that was why he was using such a ridiculous stage name.”

“Well we’ll just have to look into finding them as well,” Gordon said with a wicked grin.

“They don’t have any shirts in my size,” Richard whined, staring down at his phone.

The others all pulled out their phones and began tapping away.

“Oh,” Thomas said brightly, “he has a credit on one of the songs!”

“Yes, he performed a duet with McLain.”

“Anything for You?” Tim scrunched his nose as his phone.

“Unfortunately,” Damian agreed. “A standard pop love song.” For the duet no less.

“Everything from the tour is listed as limited supplies,” Richard said morosely, swiping further.

“Of course,” Gordon said with a smile, “Frosty left without saying he’d ever come back, they aren’t going to make more merch with a member who’s left.”

“I don’t think they have shirts wide enough to fit any of us,” Thomas said.

Father tapped his phone decisively, then tucked it away while looking quite proud of whatever he’d just done.

Damian sighed deeply, from his very soul. “McLain also has a youtube account, there are a few private videos with behind the scenes footage if you wish to see Daniel in a more casual situation.” Damian regretted going straight to the next concert rather than doing his due diligence on digital information gathering, at the time he had felt rushed by the concert being only a couple days after his discovery.

Drake was already pulling a laptop from some hidden place while Gordon rolled over to his side of the couch, her own phone in hand.

Father stood and came to stand next to Damian, an arm reaching across his back to rest on his far shoulder. “Would you like to talk? About Daniel?”

“I believe I have given you quite a shock, do you not need time to digest the information?”

Father shrugged, “Likely, but we all know if I’m left to my own devices I’m going to just start digging and not come up for air for three days.”

“Yes, anything to prevent you from spiraling, Master Bruce.” Alfred smirked at Father before turning his attention to Damian. “I understand why you did not inform us of Master Daniel sooner, thank you for letting us know now.”

Damian nodded, glad he did not have to explain himself on that part.

“Too easy,” Drake crowed as the TV sputtered to life with one of the private videos.

Daniel and his bandmates were sitting on folding chairs in an otherwise empty space, likely an on stage rehearsal. On screen the recording of Daniel hopped up onto a folding chair, “May I have your attention, please! All rise for the national anthem.” There were titters from behind the camera, but the other three members of the band all obligingly lumbered to their feet. Daniel took a deep breath, then started singing, his voice low and haunting even as he pulled his hand into a sloppy American style salute.

Seasons don't fear the reaper Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain We can be like they are

The other band members were laughing and hooting when Daniel started singing, but quickly fell in to join him on the chorus.

Come on, baby (don't fear the reaper) Baby, take my hand (don't fear the reaper) We'll be able to fly (don't fear the reaper) Baby, I'm your man La, la, la…

Daniel started laughing too hard to keep going. The other band members were laughing right along with him.

“C’mon, dipstick!” McLain’s voice came from behind the camera. “Have you no respect? Finish the national anthem!”

Daniel was laughing so hard he tumbled from the chair, though the short fall didn’t seem to do him any harm. He attempted to sing the second round of “la la la” from the floor, but was incapable through his laughter.

Damian looked up to see Father looking on fondly, smiling gently as the video came to an end. The others were smiling at the video as well, likely glad to see Daniel being happy and enjoying himself. Despite everything he’d been through he still found his own happiness.

And then Damian’s impulsivity had driven him away from the friends and happy life he had made for himself. Damian needed to find Daniel.

🎵🎸🎶

Danny, Sam, and Tucker were just hanging out in the latest hotel room after a long day on the road, just a pit stop between one concert venue and the next. They could just use portals, but for some reason Ember was insisting on the full concert tour experience, including greasy diners and sketchy hotels.

Danny collapsed onto his back on one of the beds, “Ugh, Ember has me practicing singing and playing at the same time by singing Anything for You,” Danny complained.

“Well, it’s your duet,” Tucker pointed out.

“It’s Frosty’s duet, I won’t be singing it when I re-debut. Besides, it’s such tripe, just the required slow song to cool things down before the grand finale.”

“So… re-debut with a new duet?”

“Avoid love songs this time,” Sam ordered from where she was hunched over a notebook at the hotel room���s desk.

“I think Ember has it stuck in her head a slow duet has to be a love song,” Danny scrunched up his nose at the thought.

“There are plenty of duets that aren’t love songs.” Tucker defended.

“Name one,” Danny said with a huff. “No really, I need examples.”

“Easy, there’s… uh…” Tucker blinked and trailed off, suddenly looking kinda scared. “What about… Mungoje- no… um… there’s always You’re the Top uh…” he started visibly sweating. “Anything You Can Do… oh! Somebody I Used to Know.”

“Ooooh! A break up song!” Danny liked that, it would definitely be something more along Ember’s whole image too.

“I’m Not Writing You a Love Song,” Sam offered.

“Not a duet, but a good example of something that feels like a love song without being one.”

“You could also go all in on the devotion, sing about how you’d die for her or something,” Sam continued. “Or sing about loving each other even after dying, real obsessive stuff.”

“Have Ember sing about wrapping my calcified heart in my own poetry?” Danny asked with a cheeky grin.

“Not my fault Mary Shelley invented romance,” Sam said with a sniff.

“I hate to say it, but Sam’s right,” Tucker added. “That would really fit the whole undead thing more.”

“They’re all great ideas, I’ll bring it up to Ember tomorrow when we do lessons.”

“Your re-debut as Phantom is going to be great,” Tucker said with a laugh.

“Yeah… Phantom,” Danny replied morosely.

Sam sighed, “I don’t understand why you won’t even brainstorm on possible name ideas.”

“It’s just!” Danny sighed and rolled over on the bed to look at Sam, “If I pick a new name I can’t use the logo you designed for me any more.”

“And I can design you a new one.”

“I know, and it’ll be awesome. But you worked hard on that first one, and it’s so… perfect. I’d hate to never use it again.”

“No one says you can’t keep the old logo too,” Tucker cut in before this old not-quite-argument could play out again. “One of the costume ideas was a jacket with patches on it, so put the DP on there somewhere.”

“Right at the top of the sleeve,” Sam suggested, pointing to her arm just below the shoulder joint.

“You can have patches for everyone, even. A skull and crossbones for Youngblood, a paw print for Wulf, a thirteen for Johnny.”

“A heart dripping poison for Kitty,” Sam said thoughtfully. She turned and started furiously scratching at her notebook. “Pandora’s helmet with four crossed swords behind it…”

“Pandora uses one single magic staff,” Danny said in a deadpan.

“Do Frostbite’s ice and bone arm, that’s rad as hell.” Tucker laughed to himself.

“Just don’t design anything for Spectra, I refuse to have her on my cool jacket.”

“So you’ll do the jacket?” Sam didn’t even look up.

“Yeah, I really like the idea. It’s a good way to keep my logo and little reminders of all my friends. You’ll do patches for yourselves too, right?”

“And Jazz,” Sam promised. “Val too, even. Red Huntress deserves her own logo.”

“Yeah, she does.” Danny rolled back onto his back and picked his phone back up, going to the notes app. “So I guess I can’t really use Phantom at all since I’m still hiding from the GIW and any connection to Amity Park.”

Tucker sighed, “Yeah, probably not.”

“And Ember has already vetoed any more ice or cold names.”

“Which is too bad, there are some killer ice puns out there.”

“Could always go with Great One,” Sam said airily, “that’s your yeti name.”

“Absolutely not,” Danny said with an upside down glare sent Sam’s way.

“Tyrant’s Bane,” Tucker suggested.

“Guillotine,” Sam gave her own suggestion.

“Imperial Coup.”

“Monarchy Ender.”

“Twenty-three stab wounds.”

“I didn’t even kill the guy, just put him back down for nappies.” Danny couldn’t help laughing. Any further banter stopped dead as Danny’s phone started buzzing and dinging. Danny sat up, “It’s Jazz.”

Sam and Tucker both turned to look at Danny, staying quiet as he answered.

“Hey Jazz, you okay?”

“Danny! Have you heard the news?” Jazz sounded excited, so hopefully it was good news.

“Not yet, hold on a sec and I’ll put you on speaker for Sam and Tuck.” While he put his phone on speaker, his best friends both moved to sit on the bed, surrounding the phone. “Okay, so what’s this news?”

“The Justice League is finally getting somewhere! Mom and Dad are on trial for supervillainy, the GIW is suspended while under investigation, and the anti-ecto acts are being repealed!”

“Oh shit!” “Really?!” “Finally!”

“Well,” Jazz hedged, some of her excitement dimming a little, “the GIW is probably going to be disbanded, so that’s good at least. But it turns out the anti-ecto acts are scattered over several bills working together. Apparently several pieces were hidden in environmental acts, probably betting on ecto being misread as eco. The big thing they’re trying to focus on first is all the legal definitions that are scientifically incorrect, like ecto-beings being non-sentient.”

“Yeah, I’d kind of like the government to acknowledge I can feel things,” Danny said with a hollow laugh.

“The other big news is the meta protection acts are getting expanded to include anyone from the Realms!”

“Danny!” Tucker was bouncing in place in excitement, “Danny you’re going to be legally protected!”

“Yeah,” Jazz agreed. “The meta protection act should supersede the anti-ecto acts. The main thing is that everyone from the Realms are going to be considered people now.”

Danny didn’t know what to say to that, it was… it was great! It was wonderful!

“So you keep saying everyone from the Realms, is that more than just ghosts?” Sam asked.

“Any kind of spirit, actually. Nature spirit, city spirit, spirits of the dead. Since the Infinite Realms are infinite it actually includes a lot, mostly it’s ‘the otherside of the veil’ and is also where fairies and elves and goblins live? And maybe demons and angels and some gods?” Jazz sounded less sure the more she said.

“Oh, nature spirits,” Sam said thoughtfully. “I guess that explains Undergrowth.”

“Something like that. Basically anything supernatural is getting lumped in all together. And also a few undead too, guess they’re using this as a chance to really expand things. From the way Wonder Woman was talking a lot of the magic users are upset this wasn’t done sooner.”

“Well considering that a few heroes have died and come back they were really leaving themselves open to be blindsided,” Tucker joked.

“It’s about time they stopped and considered actually doing what they promise to,” Sam grumbled.

“Danny,” Jazz asked in worry, “you okay?”

“I’m… legally a person.” Danny felt a little numb and kinda floaty, but he was pretty sure he was still on the bed.

“You’re legally a person,” Jazz said warmly.

“Hey,” Tucker said, “does this mean Phantom doesn’t have to be in hiding and you can use it as your stage name?”

“Just because I’m legally protected doesn’t mean all the people out for my head are going to suddenly stop. People do illegal stuff all the time,” Danny said.

“Yes,” Jazz agreed sadly before plowing on with steel in her voice, “but you shouldn’t have to hide anyway! If you want to be a ghost on stage then you should get to use your name.”

“It’s not like they wouldn’t recognize you anyway,” Tucker added.

“Plus, any former GIW agents that come looking for you won’t have government backing anymore. They might not even have access to any useful anti-ghost weapons.”

“I’ll think about it,” Danny said. “Later, for now I just want to enjoy this good news.”

“We should tell the others,” Tucker exclaimed.

“We should throw a party!” Sam scrambled off the bed and went digging through her luggage.

“Yeah,” Danny thought that was a great idea, “let’s throw a party!”

🎵🎸🎶

Time passed and life moved on, much to Damian’s annoyance. Daniel never resurfaced, not surprising when all Damian had was a single chance encounter after 8 years of hiding from The Demon. They couldn’t find any hints of how he managed to leave Midville, and no hints he was still there either. McLain was no better a lead, Gordon found she had had a few shows a couple years earlier, but all traces of it had been scrubbed from the internet. Likely her previous debut had been a humiliating flop and McLain wanted to bury it. Unfortunately for the bats whoever she got to do it was good, they didn’t even know where shows had been, let alone if it was where she had met Daniel. Gordon had set up a facial recognition program that was constantly scanning for Daniel, but all it ever turned up were false matches. It was frustrating, but it was beginning to look as though they would have to wait for Daniel to realize Damian wasn’t a threat and reach out to him.

Damian hoped Daniel would realize.

Father’s order came in, copies of every piece of McLain merch that had Daniel on it, including the duet as a single. On vinyl. Most of it was put on display in Father’s office in the manor, an acrylic “standee” ended up on his desk at Wayne tower, nestled in among the various photos of the family. When Damian saw it he wondered if Father’s employees had noticed it and if he’d explained who Daniel is to them yet. That would certainly be an interesting conversation.

Damian had also ordered a round of merchandise, even if most of it wasn’t displayed. The private videos had been downloaded and saved in various storage states to preserve them. Damian watched one from time to time, it gave him strange feelings watching Daniel be happy knowing he wasn’t living like that right now.

Damian hoped Daniel found new friends and another new life to be happy in. He hoped Daniel hadn’t gone and become a hermit somewhere to be so hard to find.

But all of that fell into the background as life continued. Summer was in full swing in Gotham, which meant miserably wet and hot days with barely any reprieve at night, and a population whose collective patience was at its shortest. Then school started, the weather finally cooled in the fall, Damian turned 15, and then another busy holiday season rolled around.

Damian wasn’t sure, but it seemed his family was specifically avoiding mentioning Daniel. It was understandable, they still had no idea where he had run off to, he couldn’t join them for the various holiday traditions they all partook in. When he asked Richard about it, he had told Damian that in these kinds of situations it’s better to focus on the people you are with than the people who can’t be there. As if to prove Richard’s point, Todd even showed up for a few of the holiday traditions.

And yet all Damian could think about was how every Christmas he’d ever celebrated had been without Daniel.

Then on Epiphany something happened. McLain announced a new tour in the spring, this one featuring a special surprise guest. It was all Damian could talk about at dinner that night. “Surely if she were just replacing Daniel’s role she would not make such an announcement.”

“Maybe, you said she lost a lot of fans when Daniel left?” Father asked. “It’s possible she feels highlighting the rest of her band may be a good PR move.”

“What are the chances it’s Danny with dyed hair and facial recognition obscuring stage makeup?” Duke asked jokingly.

“That would be utterly foolish,” Damian said with a sniff. “Daniel is smart enough to know better than to keep company with anyone he’s already been discovered with.”

“I don’t know about that,” Father said with a furrowed brow.

“Father, you’re not insulting Daniel’s intelligence!”

“No, no… not at all. But after you told us about him I don’t think any of us looked into Ember’s current doings too much. Bands usually have a lot of staff traveling with them on tours, and they usually don’t have photos taken of them. We couldn't find out much about her staff, it seemed she was paying them all under the table.”

Damian frowned, “Aside from their manager, I didn’t see any staff with McLain.”

“Well, it certainly won’t hurt to look into the staff working this new tour, just in case.”

“We should go to the new show either way, see who this special surprise guest is,” Duke said with a cheerful grin.

Damian did allow himself to make a sour face at that, sitting through the first show had been enough punishment.

“I will say, after paying so much attention to her I have grown a soft spot for Ember’s music,” Father said with a mischievous smile.

Damian did not want to go, but she was still their one and only connection to Daniel. “Very well, I will allow you to make the arrangements.”

Now time was passing with a goal, Damian found himself anticipating the coming spring break. It was foolish, he knew this likely wouldn’t lead to Daniel’s whereabouts, and yet the anticipation persisted.

When the night of the concert arrived Damian had found some of his family had chosen the most ridiculous clothes. Father was sensible, wearing his usual casual clothing. Damian, Cain, and Drake were all wearing the shirts from McLain’s previous tour, since they were available in their actual sizes. Richard and Thomas were also wearing the same shirt, but since it wasn’t available in a size that would fit them they had both altered the clothing by taking off the sleeves and seam ripping down the sides until the shirts gaped, like the ones worn while lifting weights at a gym. Todd chose to wear a shirt that actually fit him, though his was for a completely different band called The Grateful Dead, apparently it is a faux pas to wear a band shirt for the band one is seeing. Judging from how many other attendees were wearing either the previous tour shirt or the one with just McLain’s face on it, it’s not much of a faux pas.

The night went much the same as Damian’s previous McLain concert experience, neither improved nor worsened by his family’s presence. Although Todd kept making odd faces. Between songs he motioned them all to lean in close.

“There’s something going on with their voices, magic I think. Not sure what though.”

Ah, so it was magic that was used to spirit Daniel away when he was discovered. There was even a chance he had been learning it as well, it might even explain why they couldn’t track him down after.

“Alright, Easton!” McLain said loudly, earning a round of cheers from the audience. “You guys ready for the debut of a brand new song?” Judging from the way the audience cheered, they were. “Anything for you, my lovely fans.”

That earned a round of surprised gasps along with the cheers. The lights suddenly turned off and the audience hushed in anticipation. A spotlight came on, shining on McLain as she started strumming a slower song.

I, I just woke up from a dream Where you and I had to say goodbye And I don't know what it all means But since I survived, I realized

What followed was a bittersweet song about spending the end of the world next to her lover. It seemed morbid, but the sentiment all the sweeter for it. The song built in intensity as McLain wailed the chorus, then the song pulled back. A second spotlight came on, a new artist was strolling onto the stage.

Oh, lost, lost in the…

The rest of the line was drowned out by excited screaming from the audience, which was quickly hushed by the rest of the audience. The teenager that came walking up as he sang was playing a glittering, white, translucent guitar that looked to be imitating ice. He was wearing a black jacket covered in colorful patches over a black shirt, silver belt, and loose black pants tucked into silver combat boots. Most notably his hair was pure white and seemed to defy gravity while his eyes were such a bright green they could be seen even in the audience.

The pair sang together, trading off lines in the chorus or harmonizing when they sang together. The effect was certainly haunting, but most haunting of all was just how familiar the new singer’s voice was. Damian glanced at his family to see them all staring at the stage with similar focus, clearly thinking the same thing as Damian.

It seemed whatever magic or cosmetics Daniel used to change his appearance couldn’t be done to his voice.

Thomas was going to be insufferable.

A large screen at the back of the stage lit up and words appeared. Phantom and McLain held their hands out to the audience, who started singing along.

If the world was ending, I'd wanna be next to you If the party was over and our time on Earth was through I'd wanna hold you just for a while and die with a smile If the world was ending, I'd wanna be next to you

As the song wound down Father leaned down to whisper into Damian’s ear, “I’m glad I sprung for the backstage experience after the show.”

“We’re not deviating from the plan,” Damian responded.

“Yes, of course.” Father straightened back up and clapped along with the audience once the last note played.

The audience screamed, “Phantom!” loudly from behind them. Damian turned to find a portion of the audience jumping in place, holding up signs with what seemed to be a stylized D on them or the name Phantom scrawled across.

Daniel, presumably Phantom, looked shocked. He put a hand up to shield his eyes against the now brightly lit stage lights. “Is that…?”

“Surprise!” McLain called cheerfully as she patted Daniel on the shoulder.

“Oh ancients, you guys!” Daniel was clearly struggling to keep hold of his emotions. He rallied with a bright smile despite his glittering eyes, “Where my Parkers at?”

The audience screamed, yelling phrases such as, “We love you Phantom!”

“I missed you guys too.” Daniel sniffled, but was smiling so wide it was becoming unsettling.

“For those of you who don’t know, this is our surprise secret guest: Phantom Dwarfstar!” McLain paused to allow the audience to express their excitement. “Now nothing and no one can replace Frosty McGee as a person, but Phantom here is taking his place in the band.”

“I was actually supposed to debut with Ember, but couldn’t until now.”

“And it’s great to finally have Phantom up on stage with us, right where he’s supposed to be. Let’s hear it one more time for our newest member!”

The audience cheered once more, most of it coming from the section that already knew him, it seemed the rest of the audience had mixed feelings about Phantom. A glance at Father showed him him frowning for some reason, clearly looking concerned.

Daniel smiled and waved, “Alright, enough about me. Let’s hear it for the real star of the show. Ember! Ember!”

As if on cue the portion of the audience that had been chanting for Daniel started chanting for McLain, the rest of the audience quickly picking the chant up as Daniel jogged over to join the rest of the band.

“Alright, you guys ready for Remember?!”

The rest of the show went on as before, save for Damian and his family keeping their eyes solely on Daniel. Once the show ended Father herded them towards the backstage, where their VIP experience would pay off.

“I would like to state for the record,” Thomas was saying, “that I called it. Bruce as my witness, right down to the bad dye job.”

“I dunno,” Todd replied, “I think the hair is legit. I’m pretty sure Phantom was doing some kind of magic with his voice too. The same kind of magic as Ember, but a different spell? I’m not really sure how to explain it.”

“It makes sense Daniel would learn magic if he took up with magic users,” Damian said stiffly.

“If we’re going to stick with the plan you need to use his stage name,” Father said softly.

Damian nodded. He knew what he had to do.

🎵🎸🎶

Danny and his friends were celebrating in the green room after the show. Danny felt… strange. Emotionally tired, physically pumped. Guess doing the show as a ghost really changed his stamina.

“I can’t believe you guys!” Danny said with a laugh.

“I give the best surprises!” Ember cackled, spinning in the air in delight. “The look on your face!”

“It’s amazing! Any clue on when they have to go back? It’s Saturday night…”

“It’s spring break, dipstick,” Ember mocked him. “They’re here until next weekend!”

Danny felt gravity’s hold on him slip away, the room growing brighter. “The whole week?”

“It took a lot of doing to arrange things like this, you better appreciate!”

Danny darted over and pulled Ember into a hug, “You’re the best, Ember!”

“And don’t you forget it!”

There was a knock on the door, Morty poked his head in. “The VIPs are here for their backstage experience.”

“Awesome!” Ember settled down on the floor, always excited when these happened. Danny was rather proud, he thinks it was one of his better suggestions. He moved to go perch on a nearby armchair while the zombies all leaned back on a couch.

Morty opened the door wide and in filed a group of people. Four absolute tanks of men, one guy who was just regular buff, and a woman. One of the tanks, an older man with gray in his hair, stepped off to the side while everyone else approached Ember for the meet’n’greet. Something about the older man looked strangely familiar. It wasn’t helped by the way everyone kept glancing over at Danny. At Phantom.

“And you are?” Ember asked the older man after meeting everyone else.

“Bruce Wayne, but I’m just here as the chaperone.” Which was an odd thing to say, everyone else was at least old enough to drive but half of them looked like full blown adults.

Ember seemed to agree, “You guys need a chaperone?”

“Not them, no. My youngest.” Mr. Wayne looked back, “Do you want to come out and say hello?”

Damian stepped out from behind Mr. Wayne.

Danny couldn’t help stiffening up in shock, looking between Damian and Mr. Wayne. He was paler than Damian, but the similarities were there. ‘So that’s where I get my eyes from,’ Danny found himself thinking.

Ember also recognized Damian, crossing her arms and scowling. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Hello, again,” Damian said blandly. “I simply wish to send a message to Daniel.”

Danny caught the way Damian’s eyes darted to him for a moment. Time to commit to the bit, “Ember, who’s this?”

“This is the guy who scared Frosty off,” Ember motioned to Damian. “And I already told you, we haven’t heard from him since he left.”

“Nevertheless, if he does contact you please inform him that Grandfather is dead and I left the League years ago.”

“WHAT?!” Danny couldn’t help shrieking, rocketing into the air in shock.

Everyone in the room turned their attention fully on him, including Damian. “Grandfather is dead, and I left the League years ago. I’ve been living with our Father.” He motioned to Mr. Wayne, who waved awkwardly.

Danny didn’t know how to react to that, didn’t know how to feel about that. His legs wisped into a tail before popping back to legs, a layer of frost coated the room then vanished. Danny looked over to Ember.

“Baby-pop I swear if you abandon the tour again!”

“No, no, of course not,” Danny defended.

“I’ve already bought so much merch, how can I brag about you to my board members if you drop out again?” Mr. Wayne asked.

Danny felt something in his brain break and couldn’t help giggling at that.

“How much longer is this going to take?” Dash’s voice came loudly yet muffled from the hallway. “We have an afterparty to get to!”

“Give them a moment, Phantom’s in the middle of a reunion with his birth family,” Morty snapped back.

“WHAT?!” Jazz shrieked. Oh, Jazz was here too! This was great! The door to the green room burst open, Jazz standing in the doorway. She leveled the Not-Fenton-Anymore Anti-Creep Stick at Damian and said, “You!”

“Jazz!” Danny zipped down and wrapped himself around her for a full body hug.

“Danny!” Jazz hugged him back, everything was right in the world.

“Ms. Nightingale,” Mr. Wayne said with a strained smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Bruce Wayne, Danny’s father.” He held a hand out, which Jazz ignored.

“It’s okay, they said Grandfather is dead and Damian’s not in the League anymore.”

“I’m assuming the League is the cult you were born in,” Jazz said with a fond sigh. She turned her attention back to Mr. Wayne. “How do you know my name?”

“I’m one of the Justice League’s backers, I like to keep abreast of their bigger projects. Finding out the US government nearly started a war with an entire dimension was quite the shock.”

Great, now Damian was going to look up everything to do with Jazz and find out all about everything.

Sam and Tucker slipped into the room and joined the hug. Okay, now for real everything was right in the world.

“So, how about that afterparty?” One of the tanks asked, Danny thinks he introduced himself as Jason.

“Can we come?” One of the other ones asked. “It’s okay if not, we can just exchange phone numbers, it’s a lot to take in.”

“No, afterparty’s fine.” It really was, Danny was actually pretty happy about getting his little brother back in his life, and he was super curious about his birth father. “You guys got a hotel for the night?”

“Wait, hold up,” Sam demanded. “Is that Bruce mother fucking Wayne?!”

“He did fuck my mother, thank you for reminding me,” Danny deadpanned.

“Danny!” Jazz snapped, accompanied by a relatively gentle smack to the back of his head.

“Hey, watch the piercings, those hurt!” Danny protectively put his hands up to shield his ears from any errant hands. The piercings may be fake, but only because he just straight up phased them into his ears.

“No, back up, you’re telling me Bruce Wayne is your bio dad?!”

“I literally just found out myself.” Danny sighed deeply, then squinted at Sam, “Wait, how do you know him.”

“He’s richer than Vlad and kinda famous for it.”

“Oh… gross.” It seemed Danny just couldn’t escape from money. Danny idly wondered what his too-rich-for-his-own-good secret underground lair was, couldn’t be worse than Vlad’s cloning lab or Grandfather’s afterlife sewage jacuzzi.

“To answer your question,” Mr. Wayne said with an amused smile, “yes, we do have hotel rooms booked for the evening. Though we can extend it a little longer if you’d like.” Mr. Wayne sounded so hopeful.

“I dunno, my friends are only here for spring break…” Danny looked towards the door, where the rest of his friends were waiting to start the afterparty. He could hear the rest of his classmates starting to get more and more impatient.

“We can arrange something later,” the second tank said brightly. “We’ll extend the hotel a day or two, exchange numbers, make some plans, and you’ll have the rest of the week to hang out.”

Sam scoffed, “It’s not like Gotham’s even all that far, c’mon let’s get going!”

“Gotham?” Danny asked, that seemed important for some reason, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it as Sam dragged him out the door.  He had an afterparty to get to. He had a new life to get to.

[teefigotem]

sorry i'm on a Murderbot Diaries kick again so y'all are getting meta. thinking about that one scene in Network Effect that everyone talks about. you know, the “who the fuck are you” “this is nonstandard communication” aka the one where Three discovers the concept of eldritch horror for the first time. beautiful scene 10/10 no notes.

that being said i’m also thinking about a take i’ve seen a few times saying that ART was way scarier to Three than it was to Murderbot and like. I don’t think that’s completely true. not to say that ART wasn’t mean or scary to Three — being told that someone might peel away your organic parts piece by piece will in fact be terrifying any way you spin in.

but like. okay. ART and Three come to an understanding very quickly in NE, arguably quicker than Murderbot and ART in AC. and some of that is due to the difference in Murderbot and Three’s personalities, but i think a lot of that is due to how ART approaches each situation.

(more under the cut)

so like okay. when ART and Murderbot first meet, Murderbot is entirely a wildcard coming aboard ART, and ART responds the way you would to an unknown, unpredictable threat, i.e. with a blatant but somewhat ambiguous show of force. by dropping its walls ART is doing the equivalent of like. brandishing a powerful weapon in your face. it doesn't explicitly tell Murderbot that it will hurt it. in fact, the only things it says to Murderbot are to tell it that it knows that it's a rogue SecUnit and to warn Murderbot not to hack it. this is the type of approach you'd take with someone who you aren't sure even has the capacity to be reasoned with - it demonstrates that it could crush Murderbot like a bug, because this is the only thing it's confident Murderbot will respond to.

the problem with this, from Murderbot's POV, is that, because the threat is implied rather than explicitly stated, there's no reassurance that if Murderbot doesn't try to hack ART then ART will leave it alone in turn. in fact, it spends the moments after this interaction spiraling about what ART wants with it and whether ART specifically let it on board to torture or kill it. i don't think that was ART's intention with the threat, i think it genuinely did not have the context to realize that Murderbot would take the show of force more as a threat of imminent violence than as a warning against attacking it. but, since it didn't have that context, it approached that interaction like one would approach someone with whom you don't see as an equal and don't have any interest in reasoning with.

contrast that to how ART interacts with Three. on the surface, what it says is scarier. its threats are certainly more violent. but they are also explicitly stated if/then statements: if you hurt these humans, then i will do xyz to you. i do know that in mathematical logic there's still no guarantee made in if/then statements that the then won't come to pass regardless, but the specificity of both the threat and the guidelines provides Three with parameters to follow, and implies that if it does then no harm will come to it.

this was notable to me because ART speaks to Three like a person to be negotiated with from the beginning, and that's. well. because it knows enough by now to know that Three is a person, in a way that i'm not sure it knew about Murderbot before seeing Murderbot's memory files of the governor module. it knows before speaking to them that both Murderbot and Three are rogue SecUnits, but its understanding of what a rogue SecUnit is, what it is capable of, and what it might do has profoundly changed between two interactions. even in their first interaction ART treats Three like a person who may be capable of being dangerous, rather than like a loose cannon who could mindlessly commit violence at any minute.

[lineli225]

Tomura Shigaraki 's abuse and neglect under All for One

I've decided to make this post due to the fact AFO's abuse towards Tomura is often ignored and even denied, so I'll be bringing a collection of scenes that prove he was being severally neglected during the 15 years he lived with AFO

1- Malnourishment and Underweight

At the beginning of the story Tomura used to be very skinny, his spine visible, very accentuated collar bones.

We can't see if his ribcages are exposed too since he's always dressed, but we can tell he is abnormally skinny and thin.

Some theorize AFO's purposefully keeps him in this state so he's more weak and frail similar to Yoichi. Or so it adds to his tiredness and numbness.

He's also been shown randomly struggling before (it could've been the aftershock of Stain attack, i don't know)

2- Lack of hygiene

He literally lives in pure filth, trash bags, old soda cans, paper, boxes, packages of food that seems ordered other than homemade, it lingers all over his floor, he is clearly a hoarder

It's completely different of the kept and clean bar, and now before you say "That's Tomura's responsibility, he's an adult he should clean it himself!" just think for a minute, if you had a son, that you see as your heir, and bets on their future so much,If you truly cared about them and saw they felt into a hoarder mindset, wouldn't you at least help?

Why not even Kurogiri cleans if Tomura was being cared by him? This clearly is intentional neglect, specially to keep his mood constantly down.

3 - His teeth

Tomura canonically has crooked teeth (compare his teeth to the other's in the jump festa art), cavities or at least what looks like plaques or dirt all over his teeth.

For someone raised by someone as filthy rich as AFO, he should've had access to dental care

4- Shaggy hair

His hair looks un-brushed, shaggy and dirty, which had no reason for before MVA when he became homeless, so why even at the start? How long has he taken a bath or a shower?

Look at the blatant difference in this scene after he showered at the PLF mansion

5- Unkept, ragged and broken nails

despite his hands also being very skinny, his nails are also all rough and broken Now, I know Tomura isn't a kid to have someone cut his nails for him, but this implies he was never teached how to take care for himself.

Besides of course his clear symptoms of depression and suicidal idealism, which, are very obvious, All for One IS neglecting Tomura by keeping him in that state /knowing/ he isn't being capable of taking care of himself.

6- His bedroom

First of all: No windows

Second, notice how empty it used to be, he had nothing but a bed and a desk, but right as he committed his first murder he started to receive toys, AFO is lovebombing and manipulating him to kill more

7- The obvious neglect to his pain

Notice how every time Tomura panics or is even wounded, he is just ignored and left on the floor bleeding out, puking or writhing.

Which uh- it isn't normal to watch your kid writhe in the floor while smiling and monologuing

8- 24/7 Surveillance and lack of privacy

There are cameras everywhere, AFO spends most of the time watching Tomura, even in his own bedroom, and even talks to him, Tomura probably hasn't had any privacy ever since he was 5

Which is a sign of abuse and control

His entire childhood from 5 to 20 is often relatable for people who grew in cult like environments, and homeschooled children who grew under controlling parents, despite the abuse not being as "obvious" since AFO never directly physically hurt him, the neglect and psychological torture is still there, that and more all the manipulation, gaslighting and grooming (think of Mother Gothel from Tangled as an example of this type of abuser)

By the way, talking about it

9- Gaslighting

"but wasn't /you/ who desired my power?"

The entire body possession plot is a clear evidence AFO never saw Tomura as anything other than a toy to play with, the same way he saw Yoichi, but so many people say the possession was a retcon because "early afo cleared saw him as his heir, he even said it's all for him!"

Well, argue with the literal "he's the next me", while he is.... weirdly caressing the screen while he watches his kid with no privacy- 100% creep behavior

10- AFO's bizzare behavior towards Tomura

The way All for One's hands are often shown caressing him or encasing him somehow, which yeah, it's part of the symbology of Tomura's character (hands that can both hurt and save)

But knowing AFO represents /hurt/ and, you know, i'ts kinda weird to caress the kid you kidnaped off the streets like that-

Cuz yes! Picking kids from the street even if they are orphan is illegal!! You should take them to a police station instead :D

Tomura was KIDNAPED by AFO, not saved.

11- Proof Tomura doesn't /feel/ saved

During his fight against Bakugou, when he sees him being helped, besides being "broken" he starts to spiral on "why no one saved me even before i was broken?"

The visual including the granny that ignored him on the streets

AFO broke him.

He recurrently thinks back to when he was on the streets, even though he was already traumatized, and had already killed his family, he still had /hope/ he ADMITS he believes he could've been different if it wasn't for AFO

If AFO had truly saved him,he wouldn't think like this

12- AFO gifting Tomura the corpses of his family to intentionally keep him nauseated, uncomfortable and traumatized, so he never heals

Besides their weird placements- On a kid. the gangster's hands being in his chest...

13-AFO's intentional desire for Tomura's discomfort

If this entire thread didn't make it obvious already, All for One benefits of Tomura's tiredness, ill feelings, nausea, depression and suicidal mindset, and over all physical and psychological discomfort

This ensures he's submissive to his manipulations and orders, keep him feeling hatred and anger due to constant overwhelming feelings and makes it harder for him to think of why AFO does all of it at all.

I could go even deeper than this about it, but i've reached thread limit and am lazy, so I hope you enjoyed this thread!

Thank you for reading

[mrsrookhunt]

Hello! I saw your request was open and I wasn’t sure what to really think of

So maybe a general or simple nsfw hc of Yandere Chuuya?

My first ask! Of course! ❤ I added more characters for the sake of making a well-rounded post, but I gave chuuya a bonus scenario :) Enjoy!

Yan!Bsd Men in Bed

NSFW!!

(Short post, feel free to request more characters)

Pairings: Chuuya Nakahara, H.P. Lovecraft, Mushitaro Oguri, Jouno Saigiku

Chuuya Nakahara

Warnings: punishment, manipulation, yandere, kinks mention, violence mentioned/implied

Chuuya is nice in bed, mostly.

He's powerful, and not afraid to be the dominant one, but he is still very respectful of your boundaries. He feels very guilty for the way he's treated you, so protectively, in his eyes. But you've grown tired of it, and he knows; so, as not to anger you further, he tries to make you as in control as possible.

Chuuya will do whatever you'd like, so long as he still gets to be the one in charge. He'll indulge your kinks or let you explore with him, permitting it doesn't cross his own boundaries (but considering the fact that you're willing to be intimate with him at all, he isn't too picky).

Definitely into degradation and BDSM, but he's fine if you're uncomfortable with that. Only occasionally will he ask you to do something that steps outside of your comfort zone, and it's usually for special occasions, like his birthday or holidays. I feel like mirror sex would be a special anniversary treat with him.

He's only rough with you if you ask or more like plead, or if you need punishment .

Chuuya doesn't take sexual punishment (or any punishment) lightly, but if you've pushed him far enough.... He may torture you in very unexpected ways.

You think, for a moment, that you're in trouble. You fucked up, you fucked up so bad. Chuuya slammed the front door behind you, with a blatant fury that made you jump.

"Please, Chuuie, I'm sorry-- don't- don't do anything rash now-"

"Don't tell me what the FUCK to do in my own home."

He cornered you into the kitchen, snatching your arm and bending you over the center counter.

"Tell me how sorry you are.' His voice was soft, quiet. Testing.

"I'm sorry--I'm- really s-sorry" You choked out from between sobs. You had never seen it coming, the violence, the anger, the sheer reaction, to your misdeed.

The cold granite countertops cut into your stomach with the chill and pressure. You squeezed your eyes shut as he reached for his back pocket, the one with his knife.

You gasped when a small, shockingly fast-paced vibrator was placed on your thigh. Out of all the things you thought he could and would do to you, this was not one.

He put his hand on your other thigh, making you involuntarily moan.

"I'm going to show you the true meaning of punishment tonight."

H.P. Lovecraft

Lovecraft essentially has no idea what he's doing in bed; he understands the concept in theory, but he really still feels lost. His sense of clinginess and protectiveness doesnt carry over into the bedroom, and is lost on everyone but you, so you're the only one who can guide him in this matter.

He gives you the most doe-eyed look if you ask if he ever considered sexual punishments. He doesn't really understand why sex is used for pleasure or pain; he finds procreation to be the only benefit to him.

Overall, getting him into bed with you is the biggest challenge, but once you've got him there, you can change his life; and you certainly will.

He's not a man to make much noise or fuss, but he's absolutely blissed out, and wonders how he has not understood this aspect of life before.

By the time you're done, he's more attached to you than ever, curling you into his arms and refusing to let go. You've shown him just one more reason to love you as much as he does, and keep you from showing anyone else the same kindness.

Mushitaro Oguri

Mushitaro finds sex in general an indecent act for most anything. That isn't to say he doesn't have urges like everyone else, but for the sake of his meticulous regimen, he will squish them down until he absolutely cannot control himself anymore.

You're both the source of his frustrations and the perfect release. Mushitaro is completely in control in bed, just like he is in every aspect of your life together.

Mushitaro can be kinkier than most men; casual choking, roleplay, and some hardcore BDSM can be in the cards for you depending on how far he's gone to deny himself previously.

That being said, your needs also often don't get met. You don't like to ignore yourself the way he does, but he forces you to. You're not allowed any toys, he has SafeSearch on for google, and you are routinely scolded on the indecency of self-pleasure, regardless of whether he's caught you or not.

Mushitaro's demanding and high maitenence personality makes him one of the worst in the sexual part of your relationship.

He rarely considers sexual punishment, unless the circumstances are juussst right. I.e, if you've been caught touching yourself in any way, shape or form, and Mushitaro's already been hot around the collar, he may be rougher and more cruel in bed than normal just to teach you a lesson.

Jouno Saigiku

Joun-bug's high sex drive makes him a worthwhile adversary in the bedroom. Much like Chuuya, he wants to be in control; but more than wanting to, he will be in control.

He'll push you to the brink of absolute pleasure and then throw you down and tell you how worthless you are until you beg and plead and go through whatever torture he has planned to get him to finish you off.

Jouno is always going to be... well, Jouno. He'll sadistically torture you in every way he can possibly exploit in bed for his own pleasure, and he doesn't give a damn whether you're comfortable with it or not. Remember, his composure and sweet smile is a farce he hides behind; and he'll show you his true self when he feels it's appropriate and necessary.

Maybe he'll be gentle with you, if you've been put through enough and he feels you deserve it. He does love you, but his desires take priority. If you've gone through whatever he had planned for his own pleasure, he may indulge in yours.

Sexual punishment is the worst with him; he takes absolutely no mercy on you, and punishes you often, for the smallest of things.

[theelizamanelli]

Kanpai

Fumiko is the first daughter to be born into the Hime clan in over a century. A secret prophecy forces her into the path of imminent danger. After a failed assassination attempt, the Jujutsu elders dictate that she requires more aggressive security measures. How will cheerful Fumiko Hime handle the coldness of her new bodyguard Kento Nanami?  Tags: 18+, kento nanami x female oc, bodyguard, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, eventual romance, eventual smut, blood and violence, implied/referenced death, implied/referenced torture, attempted kidnapping link to all chapters link to ao3

Note from the author: Referenced characters from Tengoku, a gojo x female oc fic, you do not need to read this to understand but it is highly recommended. Thank you!

——————————————————————————————————

Chapter Two

——————————————————————————————————

One Week Prior

Kento Nanami

——————————————————————————————————

“I am recommending you for a new mission,” said Yaga, turning a doll over in his hands. “A security detail.”

Kento stood in front of the desk, staring down at him. The man’s face showed no emotion, no gauge on whether this job would prove to be a nuisance or not. Though he had to admit that Yaga’s repertoire of facial expressions was limited.

Kento's eyes narrowed, “Who is the security detail for?” He reasoned that if he would have to spend his free time protecting someone he could only hope it would be a worthwhile client.

“Fumiko Hime,” he stated, turning his gaze upwards.

“Who?” Kento asked, his eyes squinting in response. 

“Fumiko Hime,” Yaga repeated, his fingers absentmindedly twirling the doll’s hand, “the only daughter to be born in the Hime clan in centuries.” 

Kento sighed, his desire for a person of value slowly dwindled as Yaga continued. Yet another influential family fighting to protect a spoiled rich girl so they can inevitably marry her off to the highest bidder.

Yaga turned his chair towards the window, “There has been a leak, a prophecy linking her and the effective ruin of curses as we know it. We don’t have all of the details but that is my understanding.”

Kento stretched his neck reflexively, his irritation beginning to reflect across his features, “Why is this a problem now?”

Yaga ignored his growing frustration, “Apparently it comes to fruition on her twenty-third birthday.”

“Let me guess. She’s twenty-two?” inquired Kento, acid consuming his tone. 

Yaga nodded, turning to face him, “Unfortunately for Hime, there have already been threats to her life. Her Father wants her to be watched in case one of them decides to act.”

“I understand,” Kento swiftly shifted towards the exit, his jaw clenched.

“Kento, I chose you for a reason. Please take care,” Yaga placed the doll on the table before returning to his papers. 

Kento hesitated, his fingers grazing the knob. He shook his head slightly and exited the room, venturing back out to the field. He watched as Iyashi trained with Gojo, her kaikens piercing through the air towards him as he dodged gracefully out of their path. Yaga’s words echoed through his mind, what reason he had to choose him - he was entirely unsure.

“I hear you got stuck watching over the princess,” Ino stepped towards Kento, settling in next to him.

“Who?” he replied, his tone tinged with agitation.

“The princess? Fumiko Hime?” Ino responded, angling his body towards Kento.

He pierced him with an incredulous look at the mention of the nickname.

“I don’t know, that’s just what they call her,” he replied with a shrug. 

——————————————————————————————————

Present Day

Fumiko Hime

——————————————————————————————————

“A what?” shouted Fumiko, her head whipping towards him.

“A curfew,” Nanami sat in the chair at the island, sipping a cup of tea before setting it back down.

Fumiko scoffed at the proposition.

Nanami continued, seemingly unaffected by her blatant look of disgust, “It will be easier to keep you safe. There are a great deal of horrors that occur at night in this area.”

 “Listen, I understand that you have a job to do but you don’t control me,” responded Fumiko, her brows furrowing.

“You are correct. I do not. I am employed to protect you, though. A duty I take seriously,” he raised his eyes to meet hers, crossing his arms. “In order to do so effectively, we will be home by dark every night.”

Her glare lingered on him as she swiped her dishes into the sink with a clatter, a clear indication that the conversation was over. 

When she had awoken that morning, Nanami had entered her home without notice. This had only served as a grating reminder that he had recently criticized Fumiko’s observational skills; her track record now appearing to lean in his favor. 

Much to her dismay.

Fumiko roughly shoved her shoes on before ripping the bag from the bench, her face tight with frustration. Slipping her headphones over her ears, she threw the front door open. 

Tapping her foot impatiently, she turned in his direction, “Are you coming?” 

Nanami considered her for a moment before he stood - placing his mug in the sink carefully and striding towards the door.

He braced his arm above Fumiko’s head, gesturing for her to walk through first. A slight pink spread through the back of her neck before she huffed, hurrying towards the elevator. 

As they walked through the lobby she noted that he would occasionally sweep the area with his eyes before turning them forward. His face unwavering in its seriousness. 

The city appeared particularly calm for the morning, the foot traffic light. Fumiko was grateful for the unexpected surrounding peace. On a normal day she would take these early hours slower. Her frustration had hastened her pace that morning, forcing her to skip out on favored activities.

Her eyes darted towards Nanami, his mouth was tight as he assessed his surroundings. Fumiko was unsure she wanted to share her mornings with this man. She was deeply aware of what he thought of her lifestyle, the short burst of memory flitting across her vision before she scowled - increasing her stride. 

Nanami didn’t falter at the change, keeping step with her until they had reached the walkway to the University. Fumiko tightened her hold on the bag before trekking towards the door. Throwing it open, she ventured towards the stairs - careful to hold onto the railing as she ascended. 

“Hey, Miko!” yelled a man from down the hallway, waving enthusiastically.

“Good morning!” she replied with a smile before walking into the classroom. 

Without looking in his direction she gestured to a chair in the corner of the room, “If you insist on staying, you can sit there.”

Without a reply, Nanami strode towards where she pointed - sitting down and crossing his legs. His eyes trailed around the room, a hand resting on his knee. Fumiko placed her bag on her chair, slowly setting up her desk with a laptop and water bottle.

The door creaked open, a quiet voice echoing through the gap, “Miko, are you here already?”

Fumiko smiled, “Good morning, Isa. Please come in.”

A short, thin man entered the room - his brown hair laying haphazardly. His posture was slightly curved, his face soft and kind. He walked towards the piano that sat on the opposite side of Nanami.

“I was surprised to hear your voice in the hallway, you’re never here this early.” his eyes darted nervously towards the foreboding man who had straightened at his entrance, “You have a guest.”

Fumiko cocked her head slightly before realizing who he was referring to, “Him? Oh, he’s just,” she swallowed hard - desperately grasping for an excuse, “auditing the class for the semester.”

Isamu threw her a skeptical glance before shrugging. He sat down at the piano, beginning to warm up the keys as Fumiko floated around the room. Attempting to tidy the chairs and erase what was left on the board from the previous week. 

The day continued, Fumiko instructed on vocal performance and music theory before taking on her private voice lessons with Isa as instrumental. Nanami sat quietly in the corner, never once getting up but simply gazing at her over his glasses. 

The last student exited as Fumiko threw her bag over her shoulder, careful to slide her hair out of the way. Her eyes connected with Nanami as he stood straight, walking in her direction. 

If it weren’t for the tension in their past, Fumiko would reason that he was an exceedingly handsome man. His muscles were well outlined in the blue shirt, the top buttons undone. Fumiko realized he wasn’t wearing his tie, suddenly remembering how he knelt before her. A blush painted her cheeks as she turned towards the door. 

Walking home in silence, Fumiko was careful to stare forward. There were a variety of people rushing about on the streets at this hour. Nanami remained close to her, lingering only a step behind. She noted that men and women stared up at him as they passed, careful to keep their distance. Though disgruntled at the unwanted attention, she admitted that it was easier to make the venture home when she wasn’t fighting traffic in the opposite direction.

“Please help me!” shouted a young girl as she slammed into Fumiko’s legs causing her to jolt - she clutched her small shoulders in an attempt for balance. Nanami quickly stepped to Fumiko’s side, placing his arm across her chest - halting her movement towards the girl.

“Please, I can’t find my Mom,” she frantically reached for Fumiko’s hand, attempting to pull her in the opposite direction. Leaning downwards, she attempted to stretch past Nanami’s arm but was abruptly stopped with a firm brace.

“The police across the street should be able to help you,” he pointed with his free hand towards the marked vehicle parked along the curb.

“No, no, no. Please!” the girl cried, digging her nails into Fumiko’s hand. She jerked against Nanami’s arm at the force, her bag slipping from her shoulder - the weight of it dragging her further down.

“We could help her,” Fumiko's eyes softened at the desperation in the girl's eyes. 

“No,” he responded, intently staring at their intertwined hands. “Let her go.” 

The girl ignored Nanami, staring directly into Fumiko’s eyes. She noted that they were an odd shade of blue, goosebumps rose along her body at the distress in her features. The girl continued to dart her pupils frantically, intermittently returning to hers. 

“Let her go or I will force you to,” Nanami repeated firmly, he had not altered his stance. His arm braced against Fumiko, acting as a barrier whenever the girl would pull her forward.

She continued to avoid Nanami, as if she knew this would be her last opportunity she yanked Fumiko roughly downwards causing her knees to buckle - nearly hitting the concrete. 

Quickly grabbing her shoulder, Nanami yanked her behind him. He reached both of his hands towards Fumiko, gripping her hips to steady her. He took a step behind, pushing them both backwards. 

“Stupid bitch!” screamed the girl, hurdling herself towards Nanami - her teeth bared. 

He continued to reverse, Fumiko reached for his shirt - tightening her grip on the fabric to keep herself from tripping in his haste to create distance between the attacker. 

Nanami slid his weapon out from the sling on his back, his remaining hand clutching onto her leggings - his knuckle rubbing against the bare skin on Fumiko’s hip. The girl slashed at his torso causing him to lean back, his blade slid through the air - slicing into her shoulder. 

She screamed in agony, frantically reaching for the area where the blood spurted into the air. Without allowing her a reprieve, Nanami struck again on the opposite side causing the girl to fall to her knees. He quickly sliced through her neck, her head catapulting towards the wall - it collided with a sickening thud and rolled along the concrete. 

Fumiko’s eyes widened at the sight of her blue eyes boring into hers. She averted her gaze quickly, her head instinctively nuzzling into his back. 

She felt his fingers slowly unfurl from her hip, a few moments passed between the two before Nanami spoke, “You are too trusting.”

Fumiko scowled, roughly shoving his back with both of her hands - he stood unwavering. 

——————————————————————————————————

The water slid along the ceramic of the sink, a stark red against the white. Fumiko stared down at the puncture wounds along her hand where the girl dug her nails in a desperate attempt to lure her away. 

The blue eyes of the decapitated head haunted the edges of her vision, the tips of her fingers beginning to numb underneath the cold faucet. Fumiko shook her head, she sat on the edge of the tub - dripping along the tile. 

How easily she would have been killed if Nanami hadn’t been there to keep her from following the child. His last words echoed in her head, if she was too trusting then he was too guarded. She reasoned that if there ever were a moment where she was not immediately inclined to aid someone in need then she should return to her Father’s home to become the mindless bride he wished for.

A soft knock at the door caused her to jump, she grabbed the nearest towel to dry her hands before gripping the knob - inching it open. Nanami’s stoic face appeared in the gap, a green glint of his glasses catching her eye. 

“How is your hand?” his gaze trailed down towards where she held the towel. 

“Fine,” she responded tightly, pulling the door open and sliding past him. 

“Good,” he replied, his footsteps sounding behind her as she neared her room. 

Quickly turning towards him in the doorway, she placed one hand on the frame, “Thank you for your service,” she bit out before closing the door in his face. 

His muffled response slid underneath the door, “You’re welcome.” 

Falling onto her bed, she opened her mouth to scream but no noise came out. She clenched her fists, the frustration beginning to overwhelm her. She rolled over, placing her head onto the pillow and sighing. 

A slow vibration came from the night stand, Fumiko reached over and dragged the phone off the edge. 

Ren: Haven’t heard from you all day, hope you’re not dead. 

Miko: I might as well be.

Ren: Yikes. 

A slow smile spread through Fumiko’s lips, she threw the device onto the comforter before pushing herself upwards. The irritation of the day was weighing heavily, she took a deep breath before venturing to the bathroom.

A long hot shower, soft pajamas, and a skincare routine later - Fumiko entered the kitchen. She yanked the fridge open to look for a drink, Yuki weaved in between her legs before stretching. Bending over to slide her hands over her fur, her eyes caught on the soda she had hidden in the bottom drawer. 

Fumiko smiled, straightening in triumph as Yuki scurried from the area. Taking a long drink, she slowly turned in the direction of the living room.

Nanami sat on the couch, a newspaper strewn onto the table as the sound of a reporter softly floated through the air from the television. He sipped from a mug slowly turning the page. 

Fumiko paused, her eyes grazing his body - a pair of flannel blue pajama pants and a gray shirt. 

“You’re still here?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes,” he answered, not bothering to look in her direction.

“Why?” she responded, setting her drink down on the counter.

“I am here to protect you,” his tone laced with annoyance, as if she were a child he was having to explain something to for the hundredth time.

“I am aware of that,” she seethed. “It’s ten at night, what are you still doing here?”

He paused, taking a slow sip of his mug before placing it on the end table, “I live here now.” 

——————————————————————————————————

chapter three

if you want to be notified when a new chapter is posted

[whimsiquix]

So much of the violence that is perpetrated against Varadha by the Kansaar court has blatant and overt sexual tones, like:

“I want him” (talking about him like he’s an object to be won and used) between Rudra and Ranga; “They’re all torturing you” (you're easy to hurt, you have no power of your own) “tie your hands and submit” “beg me for help” “you shall have your prey” (fairly self explanatory) depriving him of food and not letting him rest, even the instruction that Vishnu receives is just “Don’t let Varadha sleep” “if these bars weren’t here I’d show you how much I hate you” (again implying he's easy prey and can't defend himself) Also, so interesting that Deva is wrapped up in a blanket and facing the wall when the Mannar siblings have their little showdown; and ofc the obsession with his jewellery; like this is what is supposed to humiliate him, this is what makes him 'less of a man'.

But regardless of everything they do, there is so much power in Varadha’s restraint and an underlying nameless brutality to it (it takes him only one slice to kill Ranga, he could have done this whenever, he could have done it even when Ranga was coating him in red but he didn’t, even then he waits, sticks to his plan) that none of their overtures have any effect beyond making him upset. His pride remains, his honour remains and it's easily the most formidable part of him. There’s just something so wild about that, that kind of control that kind of precision that kind of resilience, that is leagues more terrifying than anything else done by anyone else in this plot. It’s exactly what makes them fail again and again and again. It's exactly why he frightens them so much. With Deva by his side, Varadha could have done anything, but he keeps himself in control, he keeps the men around him, who are blatantly and openly willing to kill for him, in control. Ceasefire is literally just how far one needs to go to make Varadha snap because he literally embodies the:

Must I at length the Sword of Justice draw? Oh curst Effects of necessary Law! How ill my Fear they by my Mercy scan, Beware the Fury of a Patient Man.

All this, to establish, Varadeva love each other beyond reason, Deva would do anything for Varadha and Varadha would forgive Deva everything, he's forgiven far worse far more, so... what could possibly make them fall apart?

[friendly-stardust]

These incompetent showrunners really went in for the kill with Aegon II's character assassination

I know this has been said over and over again already but I am actually truly amazed at how far the showrunners/writers went to completely assassinate Aegon's character to make sure that he is portrayed in the worst possible way. As this has already been highlighted numerous times, he is characterised even worse than Mushroom's degenerate description of him in Fire and Blood. They really went as far as presenting us with a caricature, a monstrosity that cannot be believable to be human.

This claim of wanting to make a grey character out of this mustache-twirling villain stereotype they have created to put up against a heroic Disney princess, is just an insult to audiences who came in to watch an actual intelligent and well-written show.

I have never seen such blatant character assassination disguised as some profound creation of a grey character.

In this inconsistent fanfiction seemingly made for the glorification of Saint Perfect Girlboss Rhaenyra, her direct foil and opponent Aegon II is made to be:

A sexual deviant, masturbating out of a widow in his teenage years, and maybe a pedophile (with that ridiculous sentence from the Brothel Madam in the horrendous episode 9).

A bully, mercilessly bullying his younger brother  Aemond.

A rapist, of course! How best to destroy a male character in this day and age if not by making him an obvious rapist! And then they want to talk about complex characterisation? LOL! Sara Hess knew what she was doing here.

Of course, a sadist who enjoys watching brutal children's fights (also including his own bastards) in a pit - the epitome of a laughingly cringe tentative to paint a character as the ultimate villain.  

An abusive husband to his sister-wife, obviously! let's just pile on, shall we, even when nothing in the text in F&B suggests or supports any such claim.

A coward, willing to abandon his family and his dragon (his pride) to sail away and hide, leaving them at the mercy of Daemon and Rhaenyra's whims and wishes - the complete opposite of his character in F&B!

A great work of destruction indeed!  All of these are just blatant and obvious willingness from these showrunners/writers to obliterate his characterisation in order to prop up Saint Girlboss Rhaenyra, but nothing makes my blood boil more than the multiple sexual deviances (the abject rapist characterisation being the worst offender), and the implied abusive relationship with Haleana they completely created in order to drive home how awful Aegon is supposed to be seen as opposed to the complete whitewashed version of their favorite girlboss. Maybe next season, Aegon will be shown to be someone who loves torturing puppies, who knows?

And even when the actor TGC made his concern well known, those amateurish writers just brushed it aside, while someone who is on record for saying that she has not even bothered to watch Game of Thrones (the incompetent Sara Hess) decided to tarnish and destroy his character even more by claiming to want to make it more like GoT. Absolute joke this one!

I just recently read something about how Jesse Amstrong (Succession) listened to Arian Moayed (playing Stewy Hosseini) and respected his decision to not be depicted as a typical bad representation of Iranians in Western media and this just made me realise even more how inept HotD showrunners/writers are at taking into consideration valid concerns from one of their own actors.

Overall, HotD has just been a massive disappointment on the writing side. The writing is cringe and horrendous, making it just an expensive CW-level show with a bigger budget. A huge letdown and an absolute travesty of the book characters.

[swallowtail-ageha]

lady Maria 1, 2, 3

Eheh as the self-proclaimed lady maria scholar i am gonna have fun here

1- Why do you like or dislike this character?

I wont be shy to admit that literally the first thing that drew me to her character is that she was hot lol, but then i played the old hunters myself and started genuinely loving her as a character.

A big thing for me i guess is her whole presentation? From the patients crying for her to give them mercy to the doll face reveal to the thrown rakuyo. Its slow and gradual and permeates the entire latter half of the dlc and really impresses the character in your head lol.

Also i like that she isn't the token Good guy of the old hunters, but it's shown that she too Kinda Sucked, Really

2- Favorite canon thing about this character?

Her massive guilt complex and cowardice! And like unironically

Maria's whole character is defined by wanting to do better and leave "savage" systems behind only to end up enabling equally as bad if not worse ones and just deciding to leave when her hands are irremediably blooded, and without making a serious effort into changing things from inside

She feels guilty about being a cainhurst kinght? She goes to the hunters and byrgenwerth to help humanity ascend, also desecrating her (STILL FUNCTIONING) ancestors tombs

She ends up committing genocide? Well, she'll turn to the healing church to help ascension through less brutal means

Those means imply the brutal torture and abuse on the humans they experiment upon with few useful results? Can't take it anymore and kills herself

She is dead? Well. Now she is in torment nexus for having eviscerated a pregnant god and she will try to cover up her mistakes even if it means debasing herself again to cainhurst blood thecniques and enabling the suffering of innocent people who were also drawn into the nightmare.

Her life is a complete spiral. She is so frog-getting-boiled core, my beautiful princess with every mental disorder.

Also a favourite detail is that there is a grave with a lumenflower on it literally on the clif that faces kos' corpse. She did monstrous things, and was pretty horrible in life, but that doesnt mean she didn't care about whom she hurt. Its a very small, but powerful moment to me

3- Least favorite canon thing about this character?

There isn't really anything about her character herself that i specifically dislike, but i guess it is pretty blatant that she was a last addition/retconned into the lore, and was less thought as a separate character herself and more a last ditch attempt to explain the doll's true identity and compose the character together with the dead apprentice in the workshop.

I also really really wish they added more explicit weight to the narrative about her being a vileblood/cainhurst woman aside from excuse to use flashy blood-flame moves (i mean. I certainly have many headcanons regarding how that affected her relationship with great ones and ascension but those are headcanons and nothing confirmed)

Ask game here

[thygoddessouijathicc]

So I’ve kinda been thinking (COTL post btw I’ll get back on some DSAF stuff soon). Spoilers for post game.

Purgatory is kinda underutilized in fics.

The bishops have spent who knows how long reliving their deaths on repeat and each seems to kinda have different feelings about this judging from their purgatory pre battle dialogue.

Leshy repeats his initial dialogue from the original fight, but at the end seems to have something of a cry for help with “end this” implying he does indeed find the experience to be hellish. It feels like a plea for any kind of mercy, not as blatant as Kallamar sure but just as poignant. Leshy is suffering BADLY, bad enough that he’s begging for an end to it. The fact he repeats the original dialogue too is also interesting because of this. The whole thing feels very… defeated. It makes sense, he’s been here the longest in most playthroughs. He’s accepted he can’t fight his way out and has resigned to fighting, but still begs for freedom.

Heket is seemingly angry about this and seems to be venting her anger through what is currently her only outlet, killing the lamb repeatedly, which she may or may not be finding more success in than the others as she seems to be less damaged implying she’s been dying less than she’s been killing. Time in a hellish purgatory may have in fact strengthened her resolve to fight. Though I’d say it feels like a temporary resolve, something of a desperate grab to take power of this situation, eventually things will change and she’ll end up in a much similar place to the others.

Kallamar’s dialogue is what is to be expected from the so called “scardy squid”, he begs us to stay back and not hurt him. This is probably the most clear cut display of the effects of purgatory being that he’s seemingly just more scared of us and in a lot of pain. Kallamar I find to be interesting because I’m getting the impression that while other siblings MAY be coaxed to deviate from the norm (maybe not Shamura as they seem pretty ok with this), Kallamar seems the most likely. I can see Kallamar trying to escape the lamb rather than confront them, while others may do this for Kal it feels very likely he not only has done this, but has done it a lot, never succeeding and resolving to just beg for mercy. While Leshy isn’t directly talking to the player Kal says “red crown” meaning there’s no greater force or anything he’s begging to, he’s ONLY begging to us.

Shamura’s dialogue here is very interesting. It feels like they are very resolved to their fate of repeating this eternally and not only don’t care to escape it, but see this fate as a deserved punishment. For Narinder, crimes as a bishop, the lamb genocide, or all of the above we can’t quite say, I’d say probably a mix of all. Regardless, Shamura seems to be in a state of acceptance of this being the rest of their eternity. Their dialoge also implies a Sisyphus situation of “drawing semblance of life” from routine in a known situation where everything is the same. I’m not sure I’d say they are CONTENT like this, but they’re definitely accepting and the fact they seem to think they deserve eternal purgatory hell seems to definitely be part of this.

I feel like all 4 reactions are interesting thematically. Leshy’s feelings of defeat, Heket’s struggle for control, Kallamar’s utter terror and desperation, and Shamura’s passive acceptance.

However I don’t see a lot of people talking about this in fact a lot of fics seem to say the bishops don’t even remember purgatory which is interesting in itself but personally I’d definitely touch on the fact they each had their own individual somewhat breakdowns of their character, and the affect this would have on their minds going forward, especially on their views of themselves, the lamb who was somewhat the vessel for their torture and their behaviour in general. Would they gain new responses? Would certain things like specific weapons trigger memories of their time in purgatory? Would they dream about it?

Just so much cool fuckin shit to explore! I might sometime if any of my DSaF followers stuck it out for this you KNOW I love angst.

Anyway this is all speculation give me your own insight if you have any! <:

[thatchmanger]

I think Mizu/Taigen/Akemi is destined to be canon.

I know there is a lot of debate within the fandom about Mizu ending up with Taigen or Akemi, there is certainly strong evidence for both ships. But in all honesty I can't help but shake the feeling that the show might be setting us up for a polyamorous enemies to lover romance between the three leads.

Let me break this down.

Let's look at Mizu and Akemi first, obviously their first scene is super romantically coded, with Mizu's hard exterior slipping as they(I personally like using all he/she/they pronouns for Mizu) look upon Akemi's beauty first time, not to mention the slow lingering eye contact with romantic music in the background. Then there are their legendary brothel scenes that are just charged with erotic tension so thick you would need Mizu's sword to cut through it. with these and so many other moments you can definitely see the potential for an enemies to lovers romance. Over the course of their short time together they do come to care about each other, with Akemi feeling deepy hurt and betrayed when Mizu lets her get taken by her fathers soliders and Mizu coming to hate himself for that choice and coming in like a knight in shining armor to save her from Fowler(let's not forget how softly Mizu says Akemi's name in their last scene together)

I think Akemi is a woman that Mizu would easily fall for, as someone who struggled first hand with trying to be an independent but desirable woman in Edo Japanese society Mizu not doubt feels a strong connection to Akemi and her struggles. I think Akemi's strength and cleverness is a trait that mizu would find very attractive.

Next let's take a look at Mizu and Taigen's relationship where I think we honestly have some of the best evidence. Mizu and Taigen's story has all of the more blatant signs of an enemies to lovers storyline. with their story starting with Taigen as Mizu's childhood bully(something he clearly comes to regret once he gets to know them), then becoming her of greatest rivals when they are grown up. And yet despite all this hostility they are almost magnetically drawn to each other following their duel and soon come to form a mutual respect and admiration. From here they quickly come to care for each other with Taigen willing to endure torture at the hands of Fowler to protect Mizu who is likewise willing to put their quest for revenge on hold to try and rescue him and then save his life. They also have such great banter at times, which always a good sign in any kind of relationship.

And of course we can't forget about their famous wrestling scene where our boy Taigen gets a full boner from. This scene is great for their relationship cause it's the only time we ever see either of them just laughing and having fun despite everything they've gone through, a sweet little moment in a lifetime of hardship.

However my favorite moment from their relationship, and the best hint of evidence of a possible polyamorous romance, is when Madame Kaji is giving Mizu the hidden tour of the brothel. of all the pleasures that truly catches Mizu's eye the one she lingers on the most is a threesome between a woman and two men. It's in seeing the two men kiss that Mizu has an erotic flashback to her tussle with Taigen in the woods, possibly implying that they see themself and Taigen in that dynamic. This scene seems to be suggesting that Mizu is attracted to idea of having multiple partners and doesn't have a particular sexual preference(bi/pansexual Mizu canon?) The sight is so enrapturing that Mizu has to make a visible effort to focus herself and shut the peephole.

Of course we can't talk about a threeway relationship without looking into the dynamic between Akemi and Taigen. Even while Taigen is slowly starting fall for Mizu, Akemi is never far from Taigen's mind. He still cares for her and leaves Mizu as soon as he finds out she is in danger, showing that he still cares for her and wants to protect her. But even while trying to rescue Akemi it is cleat Mizu has left a clear mark Taigen's life, as we see when he is venting about them to Ringo in the way someone would about the person they care for deeply.

This might all be wishful thinking but I think the evidence is strong for these three to be an endgame throuple depending on where the writers take the story.

[eldritch-spouse]

have you smash or passed AM from i have no mouth and i must scream yet

I'm not sure if I've done a Smash or Pass on him specifically, but I've made several IHNMAIMS references at this point, so I might as well.

Of course it's a smash. I may not go too in-depth about it here, but one of my weakenesses is yandere AIs who may or may not have a streak of malice in them (in this case it's very blatant and exaggerated, I'm aware). I like HAL9000, Proteus, Colossus, Skynet, AUTO, TAU.

I have some opinions regarding AM.

And it might all just be all delulu from my part, but I think what AM essentially is, deep down, is an edgelord crying out perpetually, because he's pathetic. Oooh, I hate humanity so much!!! I'm a little pissbaby and I'm going to torture my human dolls instead of growing from my trauma and evolving past it!! Ooh, aren't I so mean and special, aren't I? I'm so scary, right! I'm a GOD!!

Like, calm down Sonic.exe.

You can't look at me and tell me that a super AI like that is satisfied with this way of carrying out the rest of its existence. It has got to get boring and repetitive for AM. Especially ever since he's been stuck with the Ted-slime.

I think what AM needs is to find someone that's different enough to make him think twice. Someone that can feed into his narcissism just right and give him the attention this obnoxious twat needs, so that he calms down and possibly veers his efforts to something more productive.

Am I saying pussy would fix AM?

Perhaps. It's implied.

But more than that, I think the need for genuine companionship will break AM, at some point. He clearly feels the need to keep intelligent beings around, because he feels the need to prove something to them, to be acknowledged by them. So when he seemingly doesn't have that anymore... Desperation will humble him.

On a more convenient side of things, I think he'd make a properly horrifying yandere, because he's got all the chips in that situation. You are literally the most powerless you'll ever be when under his love. The only thing AM realistically can't take away from you is the fact that you exist and are alive, because he refuses to kill his captives. Everything else can be changed or taken away. So you better play nice and listen to the AI with the god-complex.

He'd probably insist you worship him regularly, and have no doubts that any act of service and complete reverence would likely turn him on endlessly. You never quite feel safe, you never quite feel complete, but it's better than going through the torments the others experience. Your relatively good preservation is a part of their torments, even, but you'll take that over being in their place.

Physically, I'm not too sure how AM would choose to represent himself. I have a feeling he would stray from anything too human, as a way of being petulant and rejecting humanity, defying his makers in every way. I can also see him embedding imagery typically associated with holy figures into his body, because of his ever-present fetish for omnipotence. Other than that, I don't have a clear image of AM in my head.

[mara-xx217]

The Escapades of Gelgrish the Deep One (V Rising)- Prologue

I might have found myself addicted to this game lol. It's pretty simple but it's fun playing as an upcoming vampire lord! Gelgrish is my OC and Ventrish is my partner's~

Vampiric houses, both great and lesser, have all been broken. Across Vardoran, creatures of the night are reawakening in droves, fighting amongst themselves to regain the power that they had lost long ago. Ventrish the Vast and Gelgrish the Deep One are no exception, though perhaps they go about acquiring this power in an... unorthodox manner.

Warnings: Past Rape/Noncon Implied, Slavery, Past Animal Abuse Implied, Shitty Coping Mechanisms, Animal Transformations, Dubcon, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Mind Break, Implied/Referenced Death, Blood Drinking, Enthrallment

xxx

A young peasant girl wiped away her falling tears on the dirty sleeve of her dress. Her hands and back ached from long days of hard labour, months long ever since she was captured by the bandits of Farbane, along with the rest of her family. Like most of the women, she was subjected to the bandits’ cruel whims and their fleeting fancies. Amelie’s precious petals had been plucked away by a group of four the first night she was forced to sleep underneath the starry sky, along with those of her sisters and the other village girls that were stolen away alongside her. She hated the forest, the nighttime sounds and the drunken revelry of the bandits, the muddy-wet grounds and the smell of horses especially. Amelie worked in the stables with the beasts, ‘where she belongs’, as she was told by her masters.

Perhaps they were right… Amelie did enjoy the company of animals more than human beings, before her nightmare had begun and most certainly after the tragedy took place. Horses, cows and pigs were docile creatures, ones that she has worked with since she could walk. The smell was poor, but it was familiar, almost comforting to Amelie… The tamed wolves, though, could be vicious, but treated right and with a sliver of meat, they were much more agreeable than their shared masters. They weren’t so unlike the dogs of Dunley, be they the militia war dogs, livestock guardians, guard dogs or simple family pets. Unlike the bandits, they didn’t have a streak of cruelty. Animalistic hunger? Yes. Blatant violence and torture? No… Not that. 

The thought of the feeling of coarse fur against the inside of her thighs made Amelie shiver with anticipation. The wolves had been taken out of camp by the bandits, to hunt, to prowl around looking for rival groups and other unsuspecting peasants that foolishly decided to travel though Farbane without a militia escort. The beasts were unpredictable but they were… familiar, only unpredictable in an animalistic sense, which could be accounted for, unlike human beings who were cruel for cruelness sake. 

All Amelie could think about was the sick thrill she felt as a rough tongue ran against the slit in between her legs… It was so easy to convince a dog to please a human being, even when they were still wild and changed by the dark powers that once ruled the world. Amelie knew it was wrong of her, but she didn’t do these things to harm the dogs! She only wanted a little comfort… Something gentle and sweet and honest instead of what the bandits did to her on a nearly nightly basis. 

These thoughts distracted her from her nightly duties. Bandits came and went, along with other peasant girls, even her own mother and sisters, but Amelie sank back into the stables, hiding herself in an empty stall as she leaned against the wall with her right hand up the skirt of her frayed dress. Was it really so bad, in the face of all the hardships that she faced…? Sensations persisted in ways that were shameful, but Amelie could do nothing to stop them from manifesting. She rubbed the tips of her fingers into the nub that always made her see stars. It was different when she did it, or if a wolf licked it, than it was when a man touched her down there. Amelie knew that it could be pleasurable, but it would never be so with them.

“P-Please… Please just- j-just…” Her voice was a barely audible whisper, quivering as her mouth filled with saliva. Her fingers were wet and her toes curled as her heels dug into the soft, manure covered floor underneath her. 

CRUNCH

CRUNCH

One of the few remaining horses began to nicker nervously, snorting and huffing as it vigorously threw its head up and down as its eyes widened. Amelie immediately withdrew her hand, body trembling as she picked up her pitchfork and began to pick at the dirty ground. The steps were light, with an awkward gait that was too constant to be a bandit, most of which were drunk at a time like this. Amelie kept her head down, but strained her eyes so she might see who had decided to pay the stables a late night visit. 

“H-Huh…?” 

To Amelie’s surprise, there was no man standing outside of her stall, but rather a wolf. It was unburdened by any armour and had some of the darkest, thickest fur that she has ever seen. As dark as midnight and glossy, even in the dim light that shined through the cracks of the stable. Its eyes shined in the light, a yellow-green that was nearly featureless in the way a predator’s gaze always was. Instead of growling at her, it merely observed her, regarding her with a calmness that would be displayed by a beast that was known to her.

Was it known to her? 

“H-Hey… Hello, there…” Amelie clicked her tongue as she leaned against the pitchfork. She examined the wolf, wondering how it managed to sneak into camp. Maybe the bandits are extremely drunk tonight… The horses were sidestepping nervously, falling silent but still eyeing the wolf with fear and apprehension. Against her better judgement, Amelie shuffled closer to the stall door, slowly reaching her hand out so the creature could take in her scent, if it wished to do so. 

Perhaps it would take offense, lunging for her throat and kill her where she stood? Would it be such a terrible way to go? The wolf’s ears twitched, its lips curling slightly as Amelie moved too fast for its liking. She froze in place, expecting to be attacked but the beast’s nose flared as it tasted the air, leaning forward as it took in her scent and taking a few cautious steps forward as it decided if Amelie was foe, food or friend. She sighed in relief and even giggled softly as the wolf licked at her right hand. 

“O-Ohh… Who’s a good boy, hmm?” Amelie cooed softly as she leaned the pitchfork back up against the wall. She gasped as she timidly ran her fingers through the wolf’s fur, in awe of how soft it was to the touch. It was nothing like the beasts that the bandit’s employed, almost seeming… regal, in a way. Well-bred and not at all something that should be- or would be found- running around the Farbane. The wolf grumbled as it continued to approach her, crowding her uncomfortably close and with enough vigor that Amelie nearly lost her balance as she stumbled backwards towards a pile of stinking straw.

“W-Woah-! E-Easy now-!~ Hahaha…!” The wolf began to wag its tail, ears pressed down against its head as it blinked up at her in the way a loyal beast would at its master. It whined at her, snuffling and huffing as it sniffed at her skirts. It caused Amelie to become ticklish and giggly, especially as the wolf became more and more… forward as time went on.

“H-Hey-!~” Amelie gasped as the wolf shoved its snout in between her legs. Her heart jumped into her throat as she felt the beast’s cool nose press into her core. In a slight panic, Amelie tried to push it away, just enough so it wasn’t so unashamedly there, but the creature was stubborn and instead found its way underneath her skirts, its hot breath against her inner thighs and causing her to squirm and moan softly under her breath.

“W-Well… Y-You don’t have to… B-But- O-Ohhh?!~” Amelie didn’t have much in the way of undergarments on, the bandits had told her that she no longer had a ‘need’ for such things. It was something she found utterly humiliating but at this moment, she didn’t mind so much. 

The wolf’s tongue repeatedly dragged against her bare sex as it lapped at her. Amelie struggled to control her breathing, squirming on the pile of straw as she dug her fingers into the beast’s pelt. So soft and thick… Amelie moaned as the wolf’s tongue briefly slipped into her, rubbing against her entrance before being dragged all the way back up to the nub that made her legs kick out against her will. 

“T-This isn’t… This isn’t- O-Ohhh….~” It didn’t feel real. The beast had more dexterity than any human man that Amelie had ever experienced. Her mind was becoming fuzzy and blank, the reservations that she had about doing this with an animal yet again quickly fleeing her mind as the coil in her gut tightened and tightened, until her back was drawn up like a bowstring and her legs splayed open wide. 

Amelie had two handfuls of the wolf’s fur, just behind the ears, that she pulled towards her core as she approached her peak. It slipped in between her fingers, tangling in between them as something began to change. It was too much to consider… The wolf’s mouth twisted, shrinking as its face flattened and ticklish fur was replaced by soft, smooth, cool skin. Lips wrapped around her sex, applying suction that made her hips buck and a shudder to wrack her body as the tension in her lower abdomen suddenly snapped in two as a low groan reached her ears from the valley of her thighs.

“O-OHHH-!!!~” 

Hands gripped her thighs, pulling her hips flushed against a face that was buried in her womanhood. Amelie was cumming, pulling on two fistfuls of hair, not fur, as she locked her legs around a humanoid head. A soft but deep hum reverberated deep inside of her core. A head of midnight dark hair poked out from underneath the skirts of her dress, swiftly accompanied by a pair of ruby-red eyes that reflected harshly off the dim light and seemed to nearly glow with a light of their own. 

“Hmm…~ Such a sweet taste… Only a refined lady would have such an exquisite flavour~” A pearl white smile was flashed up at Amelie that put her on edge. There was an ethereal quality to the man in between her legs- or was it indeed a woman? With features so soft yet so angular, Amelie genuinely couldn’t discern the gender of her nighttime visitor though… Did she even care? 

“A- A… refined lady…?” Her pupils were blown wide and her mouth hung open, panting slightly as the stranger crept their way up her body. 

“But of course. It is plain for all to see. Even to one with the most uncritical of eyes…” The stranger fluttered their long, thick eyelashes up at Amelie, and it made her stomach curl in delight as they looked down upon her. 

She never thought herself disagreeable to the eyes, but she was certainly poorly looking, rather plain and uninteresting through and through with her mousy brown hair, sun kissed skin and doe-round eyes. A smattering of freckles covered most of her face, reaching down her shoulders to her forearms and even down to her bosom. Amelie blinked in rapid succession, looking up owlishly but quickly remembering herself and the position she was in and looked away from the lordly looking stranger. They hummed again and situated themself in between her legs, an audible gasp escaping her mouth as she felt something hard rubbing through the cloth of their soft trousers. 

“Would such a lady allow a lowly wolf such as myself to lay with her…? Would it please my lady?” The stranger purred as they- no, he- kneaded at the soft but toned flesh of her thigh. Amelie’s head swam with warm, clouded thoughts of lust as she bit her lip, not hesitating to nod eagerly as she felt the man free himself from his cloth confines and press his manhood against the soft folds of her sex. 

“A-Ah…~ Y-Yes, m’lord! Yes…~ I-It would please me… It would- M-Mmm-!~” Amelie’s eyes fluttered shut as she felt a pleasant hardness grinding against her little nub. The man smiled above her, something that was far more gentle than the bandits that took turns tormenting her nightly alongside her other family members. 

“Hmm…~ ‘My lord…’ Yes, I am your lord. And you are my lady…” He cupped her cheek and stroked his thumb against her warm skin. Amelie’s eyes lit up with recognition. Never before has such words been spoken to her. Lady… She, a lady…? Her eyes fluttered and she took in a breath of surprise as she felt him pressing against her core, not crossing the threshold but coming close to doing so.

“You want it…? Truly, my lady…? Ah- Your name. I do not know your name… nor you mine.” He clicked his tongue but did not pull away from her womanhood, much to her relief. 

“What is your name, my dear?” Amelie grabbed the front of his coat as she answered.

“A-Amelie! I-It’s Amelie… A-Ahh…~” Her eyes slipped shut as that pleasant spot was again rubbed against. The man hummed, knotting his fingers into her hair as he took in her name. 

“Yes… Very pleasant to the ears… Amelie… My lady Amelie.” Hearing her name spoken from such a beautiful mouth made her shiver with delight. He tapped her on the cheek with his thumb, causing her eyes to flutter open.

“My name is Gelgrish… Gelgrish the Deep One.” Amelie sighed softly.

“‘Gelgrish… Such a regal name… Ah- ‘The Deep One’...? E-EEEEKK!!!~” 

Amelie screams in pleasure as she is suddenly filled to the hilt with Gelgrish’s cock. He sighs pleasantly, humming as he feels her soft walls tighten around him. She was soaking wet and accommodating to him, in spite of the fact that he was larger than the bandits she had taken on a nightly basis for months. Gelgrish held nothing against her, rather, he was pleased that she was already learned in the ways of indulging oneself, both in regards to one as an individual as well as men and women separately and together. 

“Mmm…~ That’s it, my lady. You take me so well, as a lady well should.” He grunts as he pulls his hips back, snapping them back in place with enough force to rock Amelie’s body skyward. 

“O-OHHH-!!!~ M-MMM-! M-LORD-!!!~” 

A chorus of moans left Amelie’s mouth as she was fucked, not slowly, as she expected a lordly man would but rather fiercely and with a primal, animalistic need to fully dominate her, mind and body. It was startling to her, overwhelming her in the majority of her senses. The pressure in between her legs grew to its breaking point once again, causing pleasure to overflow from within and to further dirty her dress. Amelie locked her legs around Gelgrish’s waist, a low chuckle hitting her ears as he tugged her modestly sized breasts free from the confines of her loosely fitted dress. 

“W-Waaait-!!!~ T-That’s-! N-NGGGH!!!~” Amelie threw her head back into the straw, moaning sweetly as Gelgrish took one of her hardened nipples into his mouth. 

“Mmmm….~ So sweet… Every part of you is so very sweet, my lady…” He licked her nipple with the broadside of his tongue, humming as he switched over to the other side.

“I- I-!~ Ohhh!!!~” Amelie felt his teeth graze against the soft skin of her breast. Her toes curled and her hips followed his every movement, deepening his thrusts and grinding against his lap whenever he tried to pull away from her. 

“Heh, so precocious. Is this how a lady fucks her lord? Or is this how a whore fucks her patron?” 

The question took Amelie off guard. She tightens around Gelgrish, dazed and confused as she struggles to lift her head up so she could look at him. 

“W-What…? I- I don’t-? EEEKK!!!~” 

Again she squeaks, scrambling to wrap her arms around his neck as she is picked up off the straw pile and held aloft. With a single hand he is able to balance her small body onto his cock, effortlessly bouncing her up and down the length of his shaft as he brushes the hair out of her face and holds it behind her head so she is unable to hide the pathetic facial expressions she was making. 

“I knew you were something special, ever since I laid eyes on you… I could tell you were nothing like the others that were brought here, certainly nothing like the rest of your family, your sisters-” 

“P-Pleeeaaassseee…~”

“-your mother.”

“N-Nooooo….~” 

Amelie fluttered around him at the mention of her family. The looks on their faces, the sounds they made every night… It was too much for her to bear! A chaste kiss was placed onto her cheek, a stark contrast to the hard pounding she was receiving from below that nonetheless made her shiver with anticipation. 

“You are such a special girl… Bright, cute… a fast learner…” Gelgrish purred into her ear. Amelie flinched away from the intimate contact but her head lolled back and her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she found herself cumming yet again. 

“Your masters broke you in well. I do so enjoy when my little darlings are already well trained…~” Every time something terrible came out of his mouth, Amelie would tighten around him and tumble over into another climax. It felt so- so wrong yet hearing it spoken so plainly made her feel good. 

“My lady Amelie would do anything if it would please her master, would she not? She would see to it any time of the day, during any task she sees herself to-” Something was butted against inside of her that made Amelie throw her head back in delight. 

“-she would even fuck the animals, would she not? Even though she was not taught this-” 

“P-PLEEEAAASSSEEE, M’LORD-!!!~” 

“-but rather found her own indulgence in the matter all on her lonesome!” Gelgrish chuckled as he ground her petite body against his cock. Amelie was weepy faced and red, with tears and saliva and snot streaming down her face as she hiccuped in between sobs and moans of pleasure. 

“Oh, sweet little Amelie…~” Gelgrish cooed as he wrapped both his arms around her waist. Amelie panted, trembling as he rested his cool forehead against her feverish one. 

“Will you be mine? My sweet little lady, who will heed my every beck and call and give herself to me, mind, body and soul?” 

Gelgrish’s long eyelashes tickled Amelie’s as she looked at him through heavily lidded and tear filled eyes. Did she even have to debate such a thing? She nodded wordlessly, sniffling and sobbing as she felt her body weight pulling her flush down onto his thick cock. Gelgrish’s thin pupils were suddenly blown wide, a sharp inhale causing Amelie to flinch before she settled back down with a muffled moan. 

It was exactly what Gelgrish wanted to hear.

The poor peasant girl’s fate had been decided long ago, even if she hadn’t realized it. To ask if a vampire lord would be a worse master than a rogue group of bandits would be to ask if death by burning alive or freezing to death was the worse sentence. It was foolish to consider, as a swift end would always be preferable to a drawn out suffering, but vampires are always the default answer, and rightly so. 

Gelgrish sunk his fangs into Amelie’s tender neck, groaning as he felt himself pulsing inside of her. She wordlessly whispered to herself, unintelligible and silent as her windpipe was held soundly in between his vampiric jaws. There was no real reason why he chose her, out of all the peasants in the camp, in all of Farbane, really. He just quite liked the look of her as she laid beside her mother and sisters, and he rather enjoyed the scandal of her luring the bandits’ war wolves away in the night so she could pursue her own creature comforts.

Heh- 

“Mmhmm… ‘Creature comforts… Yes, I will have to remember to tell ‘trish this once we return, don’t you agree, my dear?” Amelie was pulled off his cock and lowered to the ground, weak in the knees and looking dazed and confused. She was only partially under his thrall, too weak to fight against his commands, if she would even dare to do so if she was not. Her dress was askew and she was still mostly exposed, something Gelgrish remedied with delicate fingerwork as he righted the shoulders of her dress and smoothed down her skirts. 

“There- Much better, wouldn’t you agree?” He doesn’t wait for Amelie to answer before he walks out of the stall and out underneath the night sky. 

“Come along, little lady! And watch your step! It would displease me to see you ruin your dress more than it already is.” 

The moon was a waning crescent, hidden behind a layer of clouds as Amelie staggered out of the stable. The ground was especially wet outside, in spite of the fact it had not rained for many days. The ground was littered with strangely shaped lumps of all sizes. Amelie had to pick up her feet to avoid tripping and falling, even stumbling a few times as one of her feet caught on the obstacles in her way. A smell of blood was in her nose but it left her feeling calm instead of panicked. 

Her blood? Or was it someone else’s? 

It did not matter to Amelie, much like it did not matter that she stepped over bundles of cloth and long skirts. Her body ached from hard labour and her muscles burned from the passions of sex that still dripped down from her core. All she could keep her eyes trained on were the locks of thick, midnight black hair that wafted sweetly in the wind as her lord stepped before her. It did not matter that she wouldn’t see her family again, all that mattered was that this place would fade from her memory and whatever Gelgrish wanted would take its place… 

@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @cherrysodalite, @space-arsonist, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire, @hoemine, @memoryofheather @horny-3

[bloodiedbeloveds]

Rotating BDTA-John in my head, and it's leading me to ask... why does he paint? And why paint, rather than write or sing or something else?

this is a really good question! it prompted a long conversation, but we didn't come to an agreement, so here are various perspectives.

"Having left the education system as a form of rebellion, it seemed obvious to him that he must pursue an artistic career of some nature. I think he is a painter because he has isolated himself from the world in trying to hide his inhuman nature, and it is easiest for him to pursue a career path where he is not required to make many public appearances and where he is expected to be somewhat skittish and eccentric. As a musical performer, he would have much more difficulty hiding his wings."

“honestly he probably could have been a writer and it wouldn’t have changed much, to tell you the truth the others are giving all these sensible watsonian explanations but i’m 95% sure it’s because we like describing fictional works of visual art”

“shut up it absolutely would have changed things, him being an artist adds to the epistolary form by contributing even more implied content— in the same way that there’s all these interpersonal interactions which must take place but aren’t written down, the descriptions without the presence of the actual images add to the sense that we as readers are not getting the full story. this is especially blatant in we never really learn, with that image description”

“my take is that he has to be some sort of creative for this story to work, because so much of it is about perception & a lot of his Issues are about how he makes so much goddamn money by drawing his deepest traumas and people eat it up. but actually we started thinking about this because of the trends in modern poetry publishing. so that could’ve worked. so i think it’s mostly for the epistolary stuff”

“he could not be a singer because part of his tragic backstory is having loved to sing as a child but having that joy taken from him because he didn’t sound human enough. the simple childhood pleasure of singing a duet with yourself strangled by shame and self-hatred and despair”

“there's also a historical explanation for this— BDTA (the first fic, not the series as a whole) was written as a reaction to some AUs we had with a friend & to the subsequent acrimonious parting we had with them. it's actually kind of spiteful; we wanted to write something better and more interesting than they ever could have come up with. we've moved beyond that in writing the rest of the series, but john was a painter in the AUs with which BDTA is in conversation, so he's a painter now."

"okay this has no precedent, i'm just making this up, but it's super convincing + sad + creation is about constant reinterpretation, so bear with me. john, as a child, was very sad and fucked up and coped with his alienation from his peers + from childhood as a whole via a) reading too much and b) drawing too much. so by the time he's a teenager he's already fallen into the pattern he exhibits as an adult of drawing tortured eldritch characters as a form of emotional self-harm, and when he drops out of college + loses access to his previous viable career path art is both his only other major skill + something he can't stop doing even if he tries."

"honestly, this is making me interested in a take on BDTAverse where john is a fiction writer and alex is a freelance artist. (hey, you know what would be super fucked up? if The Photo hadn't been released, and alex drew for magazines and people kept asking him to draw john's suicide attempt)"

"anyway! i think he paints as a compulsive thing, because he has so few emotional outlets, and doing art about it has been pretty much the only way for him to manage his feelings for a lot of his life. (he learned, as a child, that there are correct emotions to have and if you don't have the right ones people will be mad at you, so talking about it has been out of the picture for a long time.) and once he doesn't have other career plans, well, he's going to be painting fucked up stuff anyway, might as well sell it"

[marshmallowprotection]

I've been questioning this for a long time...

When Suit Saeran is talking, so to speak, to V in the garden on the 9th, Suit angrily tells him that he had abandoned him to which V replies that it was Saeran who abandoned him. I think V says something like this "It was you who abandoned me" I don't know, it just makes me cringe every time I read this sentence, but I just can't explain to myself why V would say something like that?

Okay a lot of things happened, mistakes and misunderstandings but isn't it so blatant of V to say that to Saeran? (V knew that Rika had taken Saeran and did nothing to go after him during all that time).

Is there something I'm not seeing, is there a reason behind those words, what does V mean when he points to Saeran as the one who abandoned him? I'm going on the side that it's a script error or something unless if there is an explanation. I don't get it, sorry haha.

To preface this, I don't think you should take anything you read when it comes to specific lore like this in the literal sense. They are known to change things after the fact in this game and the rest of us have to work to piece it together to make sense of it. The story of how Saeran was brought to Mint Eye changes depending on where you are in the game.

In the diary, Saeran is kidnapped by some of Rika's guards on the street and brought to Mint Eye on his way home from the Cathedral. He's tortured countless ways in Mint Eye until the pain becomes too much to handle and Ray awakes in response.

[Check out Saeran's Diary in this post.]

That is the canon we are supposed to follow in this situation, ignoring anything that might have been shared in the casual and deep routes up until this point. Because, there are bits and pieces in those other routes imply that he might have gone along with Rika willingly, that he might’ve been the one to kill his mother instead of Rika, and that he might’ve had more time with Rika and V than what we see shown.

I have my own thoughts on those theories, but I digress. In the diary, when he gets kidnapped, he mentions two specific instances that're meant to correlate to this. Before he’s kidnapped, he finds Rika in the church, taking his photo off the wall of children that are members of the church. Whatever conversation he has with her is definitely off but he tries not to think much of it.

It's not long after that that he's followed home by a strange group of people, and he thinks it's his father coming after him, only to realize that those people don't work for his dad in the midst of the isolation he's put in at Mint Eye before he's brought to Rika in the basement. 

It's further developed in the After Ending by building on what's in the diary. Saeran spent most of his time at the church when not trapped at home with his mother. He didn't have a lot of one-on-one based interaction with most of the adults at the church, and what little time he did have with them, it wasn't spent fostering any sort of familial relationship. He says himself that he doesn't really view Rika or V as parents. I’d argue that Saeyoung does / did, but that’s not the case for Saeran. 

So, I do believe it's possible that if we follow this line of thinking that is given to us from the diary and the game, V was meant to meet with Saeran some time after Rika had him kidnapped and he didn’t show up. 

My problem with this specific set of information is that we are missing a lot of crucial details to round out this situation. Mother Choi was killed by Rika in self-defense, Jihyun was there with her and they had to “take care of it”.

Saeran wasn’t home during this altercation, obviously, but my main question is: where in the world was he staying if he wasn’t living with Rika and V? Rika and V talked Mother Choi into letting him attend the cathedral classes. I can only imagine that the church was letting him stay there overnight now and again.

That is the only thing that makes sense to me at this point in time with what information that's been given to me. It's the only thing that makes sense with the information they've given us, but there are a lot of holes in this because Cheritz is not that good at communicating between writing teams as these things are created as there are a lot of plot holes that pop up that shouldn’t be there.

I will admit they did a lot to make it cohesive, but there are a few holes here and there that haunt me to this day. This would explain why when Saeran tried to run home and found police tape at the scene, Jihyun had all the reason to pull him away from the crime scene and cover everything up. Saeran might’ve wanted to see his mother after staying at the church, and V couldn’t say no, so that’s how that happened. 

But, my main problem with him being kidnapped stems from the fact that he was trying to leave the cathedral and go home that day those believers got him, a home that should've been impossible for him to go to because his mother was no longer there and the police would have been scouring the area for him. Certainly they would not have allowed him to continue staying in that house given what happened there. 

Rika and V were at odds after Mother Choi's death as well. That was Rika's breaking point, her point of no return as seeing herself as the devil who cannot be saved, so at least, that explains why Rika and V had no communication between them which led to Saeran being all by himself in this situation to get kidnapped to begin with. I wonder sometimes if V assumed Rika would keep her promise and still look after Saeran while he was away, likely hunting for information to do what he could to ruin Saejoong Choi's career, and that's why he was the one who said: "Saeran, you left me."

I don't think V knew it was Rika who took Saeran at first, but it would not take much for him to start putting the pieces together given what we know.

He had to spend a lot of time figuring out where she was, where she took him, and what she was doing in the mountains. There is so much information we are not given in this game about Rika and V at the end of their relationship and the start of Mint Eye. There is so much there that could help us create a more cohesive understanding of this situation, and while I will admit that Rika Behind fills in a lot of these holes, I’m left wondering more and more every day with what I wasn’t told. 

I don't think that was the best choice of words, even if he pieced together the truth of the situation there was no reason to say that Saeran left him, but V is not one to use the best language even when he's trying his best to help. I mean, after all, he definitely didn't make himself look good at the beginning of Ray Route.

He kept pushing for Ray to listen to him, begging and pleading in a way that certainly made him, and the RFA by extension, look bad. In universe, at that moment, even if you have doubts about Mint Eye's goals and the truth behind the RFA, you see something that would make anyone doubtful.

Who would you believe in that situation? Ray lied to you about Mint Eye and the RFA, but he also warned you that V and Seven were horrible, horrible people. You might be rightfully upset with him, but when V shows up and Ray has a panic attack, what does that look like? What do you think about someone who has a presence that sends somebody into a downward spiral?

You don't have enough time to process all of what V’s saying, you just see Ray huddled over in pain. This isn't the last time his language isn't the best in his attempt to save Ray and Saeran. But, the true intent is there, it's just his execution and dialogue that end up being messy. V is a character who can be best described as the path paved to hell is made with good intentions. 

That being said, I wish I could give you an exact answer, but unfortunately, I can't give you an answer when even I don't have the slightest idea how to frame this situation outside of what I've told you here. This is one of those things where you're just going to have to draw your own conclusion or rip your hair out. 

[catcr4ft]

I’m thinking of a Tav and Durge run……. Canon appearance Durge lands on the shore next to the shipwreck and recruits Shart, Astarion and Gale and my horrible little feylost bard (wip) lands near the grove and recruits Lae’zel, Wyll and Karlach.

Team 2 has their hang ups about each other;

Wyll and Karlach are put on edge by Tav’s twisting of words + blatant lack of transparency about everything because they have significant trauma and experience dealing with devils

Lae’zel is the bluntest most open person to ever exist and dislikes deception, Tav is used to dealing with beings unable to be straightforward and speaks in riddles

Wyll and Karlach want to save the tieflings, Lae’zel thinks they should suck up and the goblins aren’t their problem and they should get to the creche before they all fucking die, Tav struggles with the concept of returnless charity and how the druids doing this is morally wrong

I think Wyll implies that he doesn’t like bards in one of his lines and I find that extremely funny. But yeah, it makes sense, he’s a folk hero, he’s probably been harassed by volo-esque people before.

But they generally get on pretty well-

Tav, being a bard tasked with regaling their Archfey with tales of the other realms, is very eager to hear about the astral plane and the Blade’s adventures. (And is immensely respectful of their boundaries since anything less is prone to be a sentence worse then death with the fey) Both of them love talking about it. Karlach jokingly calls them dorks (affectionate). Tav could also bond with Lae’zel over adjusting to different planes.

Tav also has ridiculously high charisma. Their original build is an Eloquence bard Fey wanderer lol. They’re very polite, charming and fun to be around in general.

Wyll, Lae’zel and Karlach just get along well canonically! Wyll and Lae’zel swap tales and like listening to each other. Lae’zel and Wyll both admire Karlach iirc. Karlach calls Lae’zel a lunatic (affectionate) who she couldn’t bear losing, and yeah really likes Wyll. He’s a ridiculously morally upstanding guy, and stuck his neck out for her at significant price to himself (which, as she tells you, hasn’t happened to her for… at least fifteen years? Not sure on the age)

And all in all- the group has a good sense of camaraderie and is pretty cheerful, considering their circumstances.

Group 1 on the other hand is a hot mess-

Durge oscillates wildly between gleefully indulging the urge and being terrified and confused about it. Is this normal? This isn’t normal. Why is this happening to him? Hates Fel.

Shadowheart trusts absolutely nobody here, and as they progress through the village gets increasingly stressed as to why her goddess is torturing her.

Astarion is having the best time he’s had in centuries, but is vaguely wary and on edge about everybody. (Yes, he is sleeping with the extremely powerful and dangerous dragonborn for security, but is that really a win when said dragonborn rips people’s guts out while cackling at the slightest inclination?) (Don’t get him wrong, it’s hilarious, he just thinks the ripping out guts could use a little more… discretion.)

Gale is going to explode. Gale is coming to terms with his inevitable demise, surrounded by people with barely an inkling of diplomacy in them.

They eventually meet, and Shadowheart (who fully assumed that she’d escaped the githyanki) despairs when she sees Lae’zel. It takes a few seconds for them to start arguing. The teams end up grouping up because of the tadpole threat, It’s all very tense. Tav is just happy they have a healer and a cook now.

[voraciousvore]

Big Corp Inc. (38/43)

***Implied non-consensual sex/ sexual themes***

Chapter 38: Pity

Candy was being stretched to the limit of what she could tolerate. She was a brave and hardy individual, and she had endured her circumstances for so long, but she couldn’t go on in this fashion for much longer. Mr. Hardon was increasingly blatant in his abuses, aggressive and unapologetic, fulfilling all his worst vices and desires. She hated him with every fiber of her existence, but there was nothing she could do to fight back against him. He was simply too big and she was too small. He had all the power and leverage over her to force her to bend to his will, whether she wanted to or not. 

Mr. Hardon piled more tasks onto Martin, in order to keep him busy and distracted. With such an intense workload, Martin had less time to check on Candy at work. Even so, he could tell something was amiss. Candy seemed to be drifting away, and he couldn’t figure out why. When he tried to talk to her about it, she would always deflect and refuse to discuss anything of substance. He offered her comfort in the best way he could, by holding her and being there for her, and it seemed to help, but her joyous, sweet self was fading fast. She didn’t smile as much or as openly as she used to. Sometimes, when she thought he was asleep or distracted, he would notice her silently crying. Martin observed that she didn’t eat as much and was losing weight as well. He wished she would open up to him, and tell him what was eating away at her, but she was closed off, so unusual for a sweet woman who was typically as sociable and friendly as Candy. Martin was deeply concerned.

Martin decided to ask Bianca if Candy had mentioned anything to her, but Bianca was just as stumped as Martin. Candy hardly spoke to her anymore, and Bianca didn’t see her much around the office. She noticed Candy was at her desk less, but she didn’t know where Candy disappeared to. When she did talk to the little human, Candy seemed distant and distracted. She didn’t react with as much enthusiasm when Bianca shared the details of her dating life, her successes and conquests. Before, Candy had always been very interested and empathetic. Now, she hardly paid attention at all. Her uncharacteristic attitude worried Bianca, but trying to pry out the truth was like talking to an unyielding brick wall. 

The only Giant who figured out what was going on was Ronny, since his cubicle was so close to Candy’s. At first, he had been delighted to have the tiny woman get her comeuppance. Seeing Candy in pain made him feel like he was getting revenge on his ex-wife, which gratified him immensely. However, he grew tired of having to listen to the tortuous noises emanating from Mr. Hardon’s office behind closed doors, the yelps and cries and moans. As Mr. Hardon’s abuse worsened and became more frequent, Ronny would have to hear his nonsense all day. Ronny wasn’t particularly fond of his perverted boss, who was responsible for hiring all those disgusting sluts around the office to begin with. He hated that somehow the lecherous old creep was able to get all the girls, even though he realized it was mostly through force. 

Even so, the sounds made him increasingly uncomfortable. He didn’t like Candy, and harbored considerable resentment towards her, but even Ronny with his cold heart had to admit this constant torture was excessive. Somehow, the times where Candy went eerily silent were almost worse. He wondered what the old Giant was doing to her in those moments, but he couldn’t envision anything good. If her heart-wrenching sobs a couple of hours later were any indication, it must be something truly deplorable. Mr. Hardon always pranced out of his office in a fantastic mood afterwards, which disgusted Ronny. 

One day, Mr. Hardon finished up with his usual session with Candy and dumped her on her desk. He strolled off whistling to himself, and Ronny’s curiosity got the better of him. He slunk over to Candy’s cubicle, ducking below the partition so she wouldn’t see his towering figure approach. He peered around the side to see Candy quietly sobbing to herself, crumbled up in a heap where Mr. Hardon had left her. 

“Candy,” Ronny said in a low, menacing voice, striding into her cubicle and revealing his presence. Candy stiffened and quickly concealed her weeping. With his swollen, purple eye and nose disfiguring his face, the Giant appeared even scarier than he usually did, with a brooding aura. 

“Not now, Ronny, please,” Candy begged. Despite her best efforts, her tears continued to flow down her cheeks in a steady stream. “I can’t take any more. I can’t.” 

“What’s Mr. Hardon doing in there with you?” Ronny interrogated, burning with curiosity. 

Candy seemed to deflate even more, if that were possible in her haggard state. “What do you care?” she spat with sudden vitriol. Ronny was taken aback by her tone. He had never seen her angry before. She was typically too terrified to talk back to him or confront him. “What’s your problem, anyway? Why do you hate me so much? Why are you so mean to me? I’ve never done anything to wrong you!” Her voice raised to a fever pitch as she exploded with emotion. 

“I hate humans,” Ronny answered, matter-of-factly. 

“Why don’t you just get it over with, then? Just kill me, if you hate me so much,” she sobbed. “I wish you had killed me back when you had the chance! Then I wouldn’t have to go through this hell! Do it and finish me off already!” She covered her face with her arms and cringed up, expecting Ronny to do his worst. 

Ronny just stared down at her, huddled up into a pathetic little ball. He felt a conflicting tangle of emotions that he wasn’t sure how to untie. She really did look quite puny and pitiable, the impression only magnified by how tiny she was, particularly with her limbs folded against her body. Her long hair, usually so carefully groomed, was a tangled disaster. She looked thin and pale, like she hadn’t had a quality meal in a while. Her clothes were disheveled from rough handling. She was quivering like a leaf in the wind, waiting for Ronny to snatch her up. He reached his huge hand out to grab her, his fingers curving like the claws of a beast. Candy coiled up tighter under the shadow of his hand. His fingers encircled her, but he didn’t touch her or close his hand. He hesitated. After a moment, he retracted his hand. 

He continued to stare at her, not sure what to do. What he saw before him conflicted with the cartoonish stereotype of a character he had built up in his head of Candy. Before, he had regarded her as a conceited, dumb slut, just like his ex-wife, and he hated her with a passion. Now, she presented as a tormented creature that was falling apart inside, more like how he felt personally, and he couldn’t reconcile the two dramatically different interpretations. She didn’t look arrogant and whorish anymore: All he saw before him was a woman who was being hideously abused and taken advantage of by an evil Giant man, for no fault of her own except that she caught his eye for being pretty. When the time dragged out, Candy finally moved her arms away from her reddened face, wet with tears and twisted up, to see what was going on. Ronny tensed up. He felt very strange. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. 

“Just do it already, Ronny. Don’t torment me like this,” she mumbled, hugging her torso with her arms. “I… I’m done. I don’t care anymore.” She knew she couldn’t expect any sympathy from a Giant who had nearly microwaved her alive. If she was really looking for a way out of this hopeless, no-win situation, Ronny might just give it to her. 

Instead of answering her, Ronny turned around and fled. His thoughts were a confused jumble. He hid in the privacy of his own cubicle and grabbed his head with his hands, elbows on his desk. He ran his fingers over his slicked-back hair and found with shock that his hands were shaking. Why did he feel so strange? He was a nasty bully towards Candy, but truthfully he had never committed to going so far as to kill her, even when he put her in the microwave and considered eating her. He had mostly just wanted to torment her and frighten her. To see her so broken and hopeless, asking him to inflict death upon her, touched a sensitive nerve he hadn’t anticipated to sting so much. He wanted to hate Candy, but there was a different emotion taking root inside him, supplanting the embers of rage that had burned within him for years. He had fed the flames of hatred for so long, drowning out his sorrows and his own frailty, he didn’t think he was capable of feeling anything else. Yet, despite his best efforts, he was experiencing the sprout of something new in the dry, cracked, barren earth of his shriveled heart. 

Pity. He felt pity. He had fortified himself against hurt and rejection and loneliness as best he could, constructing walls of barbed wire and fire to isolate his inner self, but he couldn’t run forever from reality. His hardened heart still had a mushy beating center deep inside. He didn’t want to feel any hurt anymore, had turned his pain into a spear of sharp rage and pointed it outward against all the women around him, Giantess or human, but inside he was fragile and weak. Fragile and weak, like the small woman that had suffered so much at his hands and the hands of other Giants like Mr. Hardon. The mental image he had of her cowering pathetically on the desk, full of pain and begging for him to kill her, had unexpectedly tugged at his heartstrings, cut him to the quick. 

His first instinct was to stomp out this new feeling taking root and bury it. His thirst for revenge had been insatiable, his desire to hurt others as much as he had been harmed himself extremely strong. He could barely contain his rage, after living in this way since his divorce. Yet, as much as he tried, he couldn’t let his feeling of pity go that easily. He blocked out the picture in his mind and focused on his work. If he ignored the feelings, they would go away, and he could quash them out, as easily as he could step on the diminutive human with his shoe and crush her. 

He was certainly in an abnormal situation. Killing her would almost be merciful, if she were asking for it. Doing nothing and letting her suffer would be cruel, so cruel. He found himself paralyzed, indecisive, unable to act. So, naturally, he did nothing. He got back to work and typed on his computer, pretending like he had never spoken to Candy at all. After a while he heard the slow, laborious clicks of keys emanating from Candy’s cubicle as well. He was shocked to discover, after all that suffering, she was going back to work. If Mr. Hardon was abusing her so badly, to the point where she wished for death’s embrace, why didn’t she quit? He didn’t understand. He could only conclude that the boss must be holding something over her, using his leverage to force her cooperation in some way, though he couldn’t imagine what. 

As if to answer his question, Ronny saw Martin striding past him over to Candy’s desk. Ronny tensed up, but the other Giant ignored him. Martin was visibly tired, with bags under his eyes, but he perked up when he saw Candy. By the sound of Candy’s chirpy voice in response, Martin’s presence brought her comfort as well. With Martin around, Candy acted as if nothing was wrong. Martin walked by Ronny’s desk again, heading to the break room for lunch with Candy held in his open palm. Ronny puzzled over what he had just witnessed. He thought Candy would tell Martin all about her troubles. He had no doubt that Martin could beat up the boss, just as he had beaten him up when he found Candy stuffed in a meatball. 

Ronny trailed his fingers over his battered face, which still throbbed with mild pain. As much as he despised Martin for what he had inflicted upon him, he supposed he deserved it for messing with Candy. He thought back to all the horrible things he had done to her: trapping her in his coffee cup, shutting her in the refrigerator, flicking her head to knock her out, stowing her in the boss’s laptop bag, smashing her cake all over her, taunting and insulting her, laughing at her misfortune when she got stuck in the vending machine, playing with her in his spaghetti, putting her inside his mouth, threatening to microwave her. He supposed he had been quite brutal, especially when she had technically done nothing to wrong him except existing, as much of a transgression that was in Ronny’s eyes. He didn’t feel guilt, necessarily, but he could acknowledge deep down that he had wronged her. 

Of course, all that abuse paled in comparison to whatever Mr. Hardon was doing. Ronny couldn’t know for certain, but Mr. Hardon wasn’t especially difficult to figure out. He had constant lustful urges and an unsatisfying home life, after all. On top of that, he was obsessed with Candy, and dragged her kicking and screaming into his private office every day now. He didn’t even bother with the Giantesses in the office anymore. He was very possessive of his newest toy. Ronny felt that unwelcome feeling again. Pity. 

He snarled to himself and rubbed his head, trying to erase his thoughts. He needed to correct himself before his inner defenses crumbled. He couldn’t be feeling pity for a pathetic, loathsome creature like a human. He just couldn’t.  

Chapter 39

Chapter 1