#the rogue method

[mikakuna]

can you imagine how both the gotham rogues and jason must've felt during the events of gotham war?

here all the rogues are, people who've hurt and killed thousands. a lot of them barely show regret for their actions and are repeat offenders. they're considered the worst of the worst by gotham's citizens. yet here comes batman, a man who strongly believes in rehabilitation and endless chances for all criminals. every time he puts the rogues in prison, he doesn't talk to them like they're animals and ensures they know he believes in them becoming better.

but then they hear about what batman did to the red hood- how he took away red hood's autonomy and completely violated his rights. they hear about how batman made it so that red hood only feels crippling fear when he feels adrenaline- that batman is doing it for red hood's own good.

and they wonder what batman sees in the red hood to see someone beyond rehabilitation. they wonder how batman believes in people like them, people who repeatedly kill indiscriminately, if he only sees the worst in the red hood, someone they know who doesn't hurt others like they do.

imagine how jason feels, realizing that he is the one person batman doesn't believe in rehabilitation for. that batman considers him more of a problem than his other rogues- that he's the one who needs his autonomy taken away compared to someone like the joker.

[xx0fuck3drott1ngthr04t0xx]

wips cause fatigue/depression is fucking me

[dataframe]

i really must wonder how much of the damage done unto yqy during the maigu ridge was exacerbated with xin mo's presence. i imagine with the vulnerable spiritual state of xuan su and yue qingyuan, you'd presumably need to expend more spiritual energy to stave off the madness that comes in hand with that & reduce the chances of it festering... which means drawing more of yqy's life force than might initially be necessary. and none of this accounts for any carelessness on yqy or xuan su's part when faced with lbh/tlj (again!) and xin mo. there isn't exactly space to risk restraining yourself against such powerful forces, aside from ensuring you don't unravel completely in the course of that battle.

[each-dustbin1]

List of somewhat niche non-fighting games I heavily enjoy on Steam

Roguelikes:

Streets of Rogue (genuine top 5 game for me)

Death Road to Canada (maybe not top 5, but very good)

Gnosia (pretty weak payoff though, hopefully the anime fixes my issues with the plot and characters)

Visual Novels:

Game of Fourtune (technically have it on itch.io though. Has some noticeable issues, but overall i'd say it's pretty good)

Methods: The Detective Competition (I have many an issue with the story as a whole once you complete it, but man is it a fun ride with a super unique artstyle. I love their other games as well)

The Zodiac Trials (various ups and downs over the course of the game, and it quite frankly does NOT stick the ending, but if you're willing to let some things slide, you'll enjoy all the places it takes you)

Head AS Code (One of the most competent indie death game visual novels from a writing standpoint, potentially the best, it pulls off all of its twists well and is an excellent purchase for any Zero Escape enjoyers)

RPGs:

Why Am I Dead At Sea (short, cheap game with a story that I think hits its points well. Has a nice soundtrack, a nice artstyle, and is a good grab if you want a short time killer. Also it apparently was an inspiration for Dance of Cards so extra credit there)

Dance of Cards (AHHHHHHHHH I FUCKING LOVE DANCE OF CARDS AHHHHHHHHHHHHH)

Jimmy and the Pulsating Mass (the odd name hooked me during an RPGmaker game sale and I played the ever-loving shit out of it. Utterly fantastic in its execution)

Wooden Ocean (you know those people who claim that "there will never be another game like X"? I've never really believed any of it until I stumbled into Wooden Ocean, I truly do believe there will never be another Wooden Ocean. Chances are, no matter what I say, there's nothing I could say to convince you to play it, and in a way that kind of just makes it better. Wooden Ocean has hooked its fleshy claws into my brain and rewired my neural pathways in ways I can not comprehend, Wooden Ocean is a piece of art that cannot be recreated, it will never be recreated. Become romantic.)

Shadows over Loathing (Shadows over Loathing is very funny, I like that)

Miscellaneous

Bokura (very enjoyable co-op game that likes to personally fuck with you when it sees fit, heavily recommend with a friend or partner)

[stars-in-a-jam-jar]

Guys.

I don't think Kipperlily's great metatextual crime is level grinding.

Kipperlily Copperkettle's metatextual dungeons and dragons crime is metagaming

[dairine-bonnet]

Wild guess: When daemonettes attack the Rogue Trader in her quarters, Heinrix is one of the last who comes for help because before the Rogue Trader ordered Abelard to place him as far from her bedroom as possible...

[fromashesweriseuphiddenones]

Hey Mutuals and those following me. My dad was talking to me about some stuff he was able to unlock in Assassin's Creed Mirage and he was curious since he started his Assassin's Creed journey with Valhalla. Evior's axe throw reminded him of his Dungeons and Dragons character who could do the same thing.

Anyway I wanted to make him as comprehensive as a guide as I can for the story and while I can look at the guide books I do own for the games I thought it would be cool if my fellow Assassins (and Templars too) would reblog with information. Like one person could cover modern day, another could cover the brotherhood etc etc.

This would wind up as a collective project that would be a showing of unity and brotherhood. Feel free to info dump by reblogging really. I am serious. If all you do is info dump for say Assassins Creed Rouge that's great too.

Thanks so much in advance to anyone who joins in.

[greenieart]

Some extra Bain designs I made in preparation for Artfight!

[zealouswitchwerewolf]

Imagine Danny somehow ending up in Gotham (maybe he was going to transfer to Gotham U prior to Bruce's drama and it was too late to cancel because better space program?, maybe he's going on vacation, maybe just accompanying Sam to one of the galas her parents make her go to) and having the biggest beef with Bruce Wayne specifically. The bat is fine, the rogues are fine, Bruce Wayne though? He'll pick a fight with him in an empty parking lot any time. He does not need an excuse (technically he has a very valid reason but details). Cue Danny doing the pettiest things the batfam's ever seen while only targeting Bruce. No one else is affected or involved. Half the time they don't even realize something's happening. To be fair, he definitely uses his ghost powers to remain undetected.

It's a Terrible Cover Story, Really :/

DP x DC AU where, when trying to make a cover story for why Jason is suddenly legally alive again, Bruce (and the rest of the fam) come up with a story that they had found the body of a child that looked just like 15 year old Jason after he had gone missing and went straight into greif stricken panic and assumed to worst! Jason had come back to them later (let's say he's 22/23 here) after recovering from amnesia, and DNA tests confirmed it's him. They claim they exhumed the body and had the DNA tested and it came back (and they make this name up, completely believing that, since enough people have similar names, this won't come back to bite them) as Danny Fenton.

It's plastered all over the news and it makes it's way back to Jack and Maddie fast: who are now completely convinced their son died on a breif trip they took to Gotham 7 years ago and came back as a ghost who just didn't know he was dead. When they try to bring up the topic with Danny, as gently as they could, they wind up learning that he's Phantom and start to think it's a split personality type deal. One is their son trying to greave his own death and failing because he thinks he's still alive, and the other is their son trying to live up to them as ghost hunters and trying to be the hero his kid self must have thought they were. They're torn up and grief stricken and try contacting Bruce about retrieving their sons body.

Bruce is freaking out because he thinks he just convinced people who may have been looking for their son for years that their kid is dead (and maybe he is! Oh god!) And Amity Park nonsense is keeping him from finding anything about the (half) living Danny, now attending community college.

Jack and Maddie are freaking out because they don't want to let go of their son, but also this can't be healthy for any of them or for Danny's soul, he needs to move on and they need time to rethink everything they've ever thought about ghosts to grieve.

And Danny's freaking out because he thinks Brucie Wayne, ditz extraordinaire (unless his kids are involved), clueless to a fault, Brucie, somehow figured out he was a ghost and outed him to his parents???? Not cool man!

[sophsun1]

Hii, if it's not too much trouble, may I ask how you achieve that quality in your gifs?

hey anon!

i'm not sure what exact quality you mean specifically, but i make my gifs using photoshop and all files are when possible 1080p/4k.

[cortexreaver]

ive had a several fresh new builds sitting around in my notes app for months this is true unfortunately i finally nailed down a good mod combination to get Sabbaste's hair looking close to how i imagine it and the violin i made for her during my last playthrough seems like the perfect place to start testing out the toolkit and above all shes very special

[z-13-the-saboteur]

*She decides to introduce herself to Shadowseeker*

"Name's Red."

-- Red (@askroguered)

His ear fin wiggled

[rosemaryhoney27]

Cat Conspiracy

The Cat Conspiracy

Damian Wayne had tracked assassins across continents, dismantled crime syndicates before breakfast, and fought rogue AI while still managing to ace his Latin homework.

But nothing—nothing—had prepared him for Danny Fenton.

Specifically, Danny Fenton and his suspicious pattern of visiting pet stores all over Gotham, emerging each time with an armful of cats.

Damian narrowed his eyes from the rooftop across the street as Danny exited The Purring Palace with five cats in various shades of tabby draped across his arms, a smug little smile on his face.

Damian’s voice was a low growl in the comms. “Grayson. I’ve got eyes on Fenton again. He’s acquired more felines. That’s the third pet store this week. Something is afoot.”

Across the city, Dick let out an exaggerated groan. “Maybe he just likes cats?”

“No one likes cats that much. Not without a nefarious purpose,” Damian replied, dead serious.

“Damian, buddy, you live with eight trained attack bats and a demon dog. Let the kid have some cats.”

“I will not rest until I uncover his scheme.”

Meanwhile, Danny Fenton was indeed up to something.

He wasn't robbing banks or raising a ghost army or even stealing Gotham's supply of tuna fish. His plan was, in fact, adorably petty.

“Here you go, Mr. Meowser,” he whispered as he tucked the newest stray into a box carefully prepared with toys, a mini litter pan, and an engraved name tag. “You’re going to love your new home. It has three fireplaces, heated floors, and a man who pretends to hate you but secretly buys you imported kibble.”

He grinned as the box closed.

Operation: Furry Revenge was going purrfectly.

After all, if Vlad Masters—billionaire fruit loop, obsessed with power, and frequent thorn in Danny’s ghostly side—was too busy dealing with the ever-growing clowder of feline freeloaders mysteriously showing up at his mansion, then he’d have zero time for evil schemes.

Better yet, Vlad hadn’t sent a ghost assassin after him in weeks. The last thing he’d screamed over the phone was, “Daniel, I am not a cat café!”—right before the line went dead and the sound of a kitten meowing played faintly in the background.

Success.

Vlad was unraveling.

He now owned no less than thirty-two cats, each with names like “Princess Fuzzums,” “Waffle,” and “Mr. Stabby.”

They appeared out of nowhere.

Well, not nowhere. Always in tidy, clearly handmade boxes, addressed to him, complete with vet records and gourmet food recommendations.

He’d tried to be mad. He’d tried to find the source. But the cats... they purred.

One had curled up on his chest and started kneading at his robe while purring like a chainsaw, and now she had a bed on his desk and he dictated business emails around her nap schedule.

He was losing the war, and the worst part? He was starting to like it.

Damian had enough.

He dropped down from a rooftop like an avenging shadow as Danny exited yet another pet store with a fluffy ginger kitten perched on his head like a crown.

“I knew it.”

Danny screamed and nearly dropped the kitten. “What the hell?! Do you practice dramatic entrances?”

“You’ve been acquiring cats for a dark purpose,” Damian said, voice cold and accusatory. “I demand to know what you’re planning.”

Danny blinked at him. Then grinned.

“Would you believe me if I said it was a long-term plan to neutralize a billionaire supervillain through the power of feline responsibility?”

Damian stared.

Danny kept going. “I call it Operation: Claw and Order. My target now owns thirty-two cats. That’s roughly thirty-one more than he emotionally admits to loving.”

“…You’re weaponizing cats.”

“Yes,” Danny said, very proud.

Damian folded his arms. “…Interesting. I approve.”

Danny blinked. “Wait, what?”

“I would’ve used snakes, but your method is arguably more insidious. If you require assistance in continuing this campaign, I can connect you with Selina Kyle. She has... resources.”

Danny cackled. “Oh my god, is this what friendship feels like?”

“No,” Damian said immediately. “…But I’ll help deliver the next batch.”

And just like that, Gotham’s weirdest alliance was born: the half-ghost boy with a vengeance plan powered by kittens, and the Bat’s youngest, most terrifying son.

Vlad never knew what hit him.

But his cats were very well-fed.

[randomness-is-my-order]

another thing that is simply amazing about wei wuxian is that he doesn’t give a fuck about hoarding the knowledge he attains. in the cultivation world where clans jealously hold their resources close and have techniques unique to their families because progress is meant for them and theirs–wei wuxian utterly breaks the mould with his inventions. the products of his genius are spread far and wide and his way of doing things is disseminated within the cultivation society as crucial pieces of information. the spirit attraction flag and the compass are used not only by the clans but also the rogues–the bottom most people in their hierarchy. all of them benefit from wei wuxian’s knowlege in a way that the clans are simply incapable of replicating because they would never allow their own methods to leave the boundaries of their clans. and when wei wuxian is back, he takes to teaching instantly and has no qualms against sharing both his experiences and hard-earned wisdom with the juniors and i think it’s important to note that he has literally no affiliation to them prior to meeting them, except jin ling. he doesn’t know sizhui is a-yuan, he just knows they’re lans and later the boys he leads at yi city belong to several different clans–clans that were responsible for his own death and the death of the wen remnants, mind you. but wei wuxian would never make the children bear the sins of their forefathers, of course, just that painting the background helps in understanding how open and willing wei wuxian is about sharing his knowledge with others. it’s very lovely, really. the cultivation society only took from wei wuxian but he only ever gave them back.

[vodkassassin]

Batcourt

Tim is sick of his family fighting, an occurrence which doesn’t always but enough times has nearly led to murder, that he devises a new method to deal with them and their petty (or serious, but usually petty) arguments: Batcourt

The first ever batcourt trial was to mediate an argument between Dick and Bruce, bc when Tim became Robin they were on the outs; Dick had moved out and was rebelling against his dad. They barely talked to each other, and when they did it was to argue.

Tim, being in the middle of all that, finally snaps and basically strong arms them into a impromptu “court session”, bc if they can’t be civil with each other in conversation they maybe they can at least be professional in this Thought Exercise.

He appoints Alfred as the unbiased jury, and then demands that both Bruce and Dick take five minutes to compile their cases against each other to present to the judge (Tim).

Both Bruce and Dick are incredibly unamused, but Tim has Alfred’s support, so they reluctantly go along with the charade. And…

It’s actually surprisingly effective.

The argument is hashed out without anyone coming to blows or a screaming match. They are all very mature about it and the argument is settled with both parties, if not happy, then mollified that they actually got to speak their parts and come to a conclusion that wasn’t unfair.

Alfred is very pleased with the results of the first batcourt trial, and give his blessing for this method to be used in the future.

And so it is. Tim is typically the Judge, as he is the mastermind behind the method and typically stays out of all arguments as much as he can, and is known to everyone to be extremely impartial when the others argue about anything. So 9 times out of 10, Tim’s judge, and uses a generating software program he developed and installed on his gauntlet (and civvy watch) to choose a jury to preside over a trial when one of the family members opens a case against someone else.

This eventually becomes just how the family resolves disputes.

If an argument comes forth and is starting to get too heated, whoever declares that they’d ‘like to submit a case to the batcourt’ is by default the prosecution, leaving the other party as defendant (these are just terms, this isn’t actually a court of law, this is just a method of resolving arguments, so both sides are heard). At this point, everyone usually turns to Tim, who appoints a jury and then tells the pros and def that they have five minute to compile and submit their evidence to the court.

It’s all very official, and the Rules of Batcourt is that everyone has to remain absolutely professional as if this were a real court case. This is to ensure nobody breaks the exercise, otherwise it won’t work.

Anyway it’s VERY effective, and is used for years in private.

Until a pair of them have an argument in the middle of an op in public and it’s getting in the way of taking out the villain…. So someone declares that they’d like to submit a case to the batcourt.

Of course any non-bat present is like “the what”

But all the bats present, being so used to using the batcourt method to hash out disagreements, automatically turn to Tim.

Anyway, Tim, by habit, immediately runs the jury program and appoints Spoiler and Black Bat as jury (the argument was between Red Hood and Nightwing, with Red Hood submitting the case and therefore the prosecution).

The rogue they were fighting (let’s choose a nicer one, Riddler maybe) is so confused at this point that they kind of stop in the middle of their scheme just to watch the the fuck is going on.

The bystander civilians and any reporters are also like “???” And so basically they all get to watch the first ever public batcourt trial.

(The jury ends up voting in favor of Red Hood, so Tim declares that Nightwing is Guilty “by the power vested in my by the Batclan” and Nightwing is sentenced to Apologizing to Red Hood - since the argument started because Nightwing wouldn’t get the fuck out of RH’s way and he kept almost shooting him lmao, it just went downhill from there. Brothers amirite.)

Anyway the video goes viral immediately, the Gotham internet going insane over the concept of how the vigilantes apparently resolve their arguments.

The riddler is so fascinated by what he just witnessed that he just accepts being taken back to jail for the meantime to mull things over (I love Eddie)

Now that the bat is out of the bag, so to speak, the Batclan submits cases to batcourt in public a few more times without thinking, and the public is very excited every time. Every case and verdict shows up in the next day’s paper, and it’s a Gotham Highlight. People love it.

And then it escapes containment. Because one day a rogue loudly declares that they would like to submit a case to the batcourt. Against Batman.

The present Batclan members all look at each other, and then to Tim, who is already running the jury appointment program without even thinking. It ends up choosing Riddler (who was also there) along with two civilians and a bat (Robin).

Tim blinks, then shrugs, and lets it happen.

So starts the Batcourt trial of the decade: Batman V Poison Ivy.

And Batman loses.

Ivy still goes to jail afterwards, being a criminal and all, but she does so victoriously. She has mad street cred after this. The public goes WILD.

Anyway what I am saying is that batcourt is a highly respected court of dispute in Gotham. The majority of trials are conducted between Batclan members, but there are rogues who have won (and lost) trials in batcourt, and even one very infamous instant where the GCPD submitted a case against Red Hood and subsequently lost when the mostly civilian jury declared him Innocent.

The police force having to then apologize to Red Hood made headlines so big that they broke Gotham City containment and made it into the outside world.

Which leads to the next famous batcourt case: Superman V Batman.

I have been thinking about this concept for weeks and it’s definitely going to be a running gag in all my batfam fics forever

Also we get to have this fun interaction

“Batcourt is now in session”

Batman: please don’t call it that

Tim: ahem

Batman, sighing: objection

Every single one of his kids, pointing at him like in ace attorney: overruled

[thepinkpanther83]

Reader is sitting at the hellfire club table in the cafeteria when Eddie approaches with the intentions to make reader flustered but it backfires.

Please and thank you 😊

Error 404: Smoothness Not Found

One-Shot Request: “Error 404: Smoothness Not Found”

Eddie Munson x Female Reader

💌 Author’s Note: Huge thanks to @meankenna for sending in this funny and adorable prompt, I had fun imagining Eddie getting absolutely wrecked by a smooth, unbothered Reader. You’re keeping the Hellfire chaos alive and I love ya for it. 💖 Hope this flirty lil romp makes you smile! 💋

~Pinkie 🍒

Masterlist

Find me on AO3.

Read this story on AO3.

🎸 Summary: Eddie Munson doesn’t get nervous. He’s a Dungeon Master, a guitar god, a champion of cafeteria theatrics.

But when he sets out to fluster a cool, calm outsider at the Hellfire table with one of his classic lines, he gets hit with something he didn’t expect: his own game, turned on him.

A one-shot full of sharp banter, unexpected sparks, and the kind of lunchroom showdown that might just lead to love.

Click "Keep Reading" below the cut to read. 😘

“Error 404: Smoothness Not Found”

The cafeteria was its usual midday jungle, linoleum floors sticky with mystery stains, the air thick with teenage body spray and tater tots, and the low roar of adolescent chaos echoing off the walls. But over in the far-left corner, where the Hellfire Club had permanently claimed their domain, the chaos took on a distinctly nerdy flavor.

Dustin was in full meltdown mode.

“I’m telling you, Jeff, if my d20 mysteriously lands on a one again, I’m invoking dice tampering and demanding a re-roll.”

“On what grounds?” Jeff snorted, clutching his carton of chocolate milk like it was a rare artifact. “Your own bad luck isn’t a war crime, Henderson.”

Mike chimed in with a muttered, “You’re just mad your rogue keeps falling in love with NPCs,” while Gareth and Grant broke into a cackling duet, drumming out the Jaws theme on their trays.

Amid the storm of mockery and snacks, you sat calmly at the edge of the table, a quiet satellite in the Hellfire galaxy. You weren’t a member, but you’d been absorbed into the gravitational pull somehow, maybe through mutual classes, or shared disdain for cafeteria food. Either way, no one questioned your presence anymore. You didn’t play D&D, but you definitely watched it like a sociologist. Or a cat observing a very lively fish tank.

You balanced a crossword puzzle on one knee, methodically chewing through baby carrots and ignoring the shrieking over critical failures. Your pencil tapped a rhythm against the paper as you searched for a six-letter word meaning charming but doomed. You smirked to yourself. The answer was probably Munson.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

The cafeteria doors banged open like the prelude to a boss battle, and there he was, Eddie Munson, leather-jacketed menace, King of the Freaks, and current front-runner in your personal list of “People Who Flirt Like It’s a Performance Art.”

You didn’t even have to look up to know he’d clocked you. You could feel it, that strange static charge that always rolled in with him like thunder before a storm. Somewhere between his combat boots and his wild mop of curls, the man managed to manufacture drama like it was a bodily function.

And judging by the slow curl of his smirk, he was already planning an ambush.

Eddie didn’t walk. He made an entrance.

Combat boots hit tile like a drumline. His rings clicked with every exaggerated gesture, like punctuation marks to an invisible sentence. The cafeteria didn’t look up, most of them had learned to just let Eddie Munson exist in his own dimension, but the Hellfire table definitely noticed.

Grant leaned toward Gareth with a muttered, “He’s got that look again.”

“Uh-oh,” Gareth whispered, catching the target of Eddie’s laser-focused attention. “Incoming flirt assault.”

You didn’t flinch. Pencil still in hand, you marked another square on your crossword as Eddie approached like a lion on a catwalk.

He came to a dramatic halt just beside you, resting one hand on the back of your chair and the other over his heart like he was preparing to recite Shakespeare.

His voice dropped into that low, faux-sultry register he used when he was laying it on way too thick.

“So, how’s the prettiest person in the world doing today?”

You didn’t even blink.

From across the table, Dustin made a noise like someone stepping on a wet clarinet. “Oh god,” he groaned, slapping his forehead. “Here he goes again.”

Mike muttered, “Please crash and burn,” under his breath like a spell, while Jeff and Grant leaned forward in quiet anticipation.

The table was holding its collective breath. But you? You were still calm. Unbothered. Pencil still tapping gently against your knee.

Cool as a cucumber in the middle of a microwave, you finally glanced up, lazily. Sipped your drink. Eyebrows lifted just a touch. Expression unreadable, and said flatly-

“I don’t know. How are you?”

It hit him like a crit to the chest.

Record scratch. System failure. Reboot error.

Eddie.exe had stopped responding.

He blinked. Once. Twice. Mouth parted like a Windows update was about to install. His brain buffer wheel was visibly spinning behind those wide brown eyes. For one glorious moment, the man was entirely speechless.

And the table?

Dead silent.

Even Dustin was in awe.

Eddie’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

The confidence? Gone. Swagger? Missing in action. Leather jacket? Still fabulous, but definitely not helping him now.

He cleared his throat once, then again, like he could cough the embarrassment out of his lungs.

“I’m…”

He tried again. Voice pitched slightly higher, cracked on the last syllable like an untrained choirboy.

“I’m fine.”

And just like that, the illusion shattered.

Grant choked on his apple slice.

Gareth slapped both hands on the table like he was witnessing a miracle. “Oh my god. He short-circuited.”

Dustin leaned across the table with gleeful menace. “Are you blushing, dude? Did we just watch Eddie ‘Nothing Phases Me’ Munson malfunction over a one-liner?”

“Mark the date,” Mike added, eyes wide, like he was witnessing history. “We just witnessed the fall of a legend.”

Eddie raised both middle fingers without breaking eye contact with you, the picture of performative defiance… except for the faint pink flush creeping up his cheeks, giving him away entirely.

You just sipped your drink again, one eyebrow arching ever so slightly.

You were enjoying this. Too much.

And Eddie knew it.

He was in trouble.

You watched him flounder, savoring every second of it like the first sip of something fizzy and dangerous. Eddie Munson, master of theatrics, king of the underdogs, flirt extraordinaire, was currently melting like a record left too close to a heater.

And he knew it.

Finally, after dragging the silence out just long enough to make him squirm, you tilted your head and really looked at him, slow, deliberate, eyes scanning from his tangled curls to the panicked gleam in his eyes.

Then, you smiled.

Not wide. Not dramatic.

Just the faintest upward tug at the corner of your lips, small, sharp, smug.

“Gotcha,” that smirk said without needing a word.

Eddie visibly twitched. He’d been bested. Checkmated. Absolutely wrecked.

And the worst part?

He liked it.

Your pencil returned to your crossword, but before you started filling in the next clue, you shifted slightly, nudging your tray to the side with just enough space to make the invitation obvious.

“You gonna sit or just hover there short-circuiting?”

He blinked. You watched the moment his brain reconnected with his body.

“Y-Yeah,” he muttered, trying to inject some cool back into his voice and absolutely failing. “I can… yeah.”

He slid into the seat beside you like it was his idea, like he wasn’t internally screaming, like this wasn’t the first time someone had flipped his game upside down and laughed about it.

Grant gave him a slow clap. Dustin made the international L hand sign for “Loser.” Mike stage-whispered, “He’s already down bad.”

But Eddie barely heard them.

Because now he was sitting next to you, and you were still smirking.

And he had no idea what you were going to do next.

But suddenly…

He really, really wanted to find out.

The moment Eddie sat down, you went right back to your crossword like he hadn’t just face-planted into a flirt trap of his own making. But there was a smug, satisfied ease to your posture now, and it was driving him insane in the best way.

Eddie leaned in a little, elbows on the table, trying to recover some semblance of control. “So…” he started, flashing his signature grin, though it wobbled at the edges now, like his pride had a dent in it. “You always this dangerous during lunch?”

Without looking up, you replied dryly:

“Only when provoked.”

That grin faltered again. He pushed on anyway.

“Gotta say, sweetheart, you’ve got some serious nerve turning the tables on me.”

You circled a clue. “Was that your A-game just now? Because if it was…” You finally met his eyes, head tilting.

“Should I be flattered or concerned?”

Grant wheezed. Dustin slammed his tray in approval. “SOMEONE GIVE HER A TROPHY.”

Eddie put a hand to his chest like he’d been struck. “Ouch. I come over here offering my heart, and maybe a little of my lunch money, and I get roasted like a damn marshmallow.”

“You came over here with a pickup line you’ve probably used on half the marching band.”

He gasped. “Now that’s just… okay, that’s fair.”

You turned to face him more fully, one leg crossing over the other. “Don’t take it too hard, Munson. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

For a moment, Eddie just stared. Like that one sentence had detonated whatever was left of his dignity.

“I… uh-”

He blinked rapidly. “See, now that’s just cruel. You can’t just casually say something like that. I’m emotionally fragile.”

You smirked again. “Yeah? You seem really delicate.”

“Emotionally, not physically!” he said, flailing slightly. “I’m tough. I headbang. I do mosh pits.”

“You cried during The Last Unicorn, Eddie.”

“Dustin promised he wouldn’t tell anyone that!”

“Oh, he didn’t,” you said, quirking a brow. “You did. Last week when you got drunk. Very dramatically.”

Dustin nodded solemnly. “You reenacted the scene with full narration.”

Eddie sagged into the table. “This is bullying.”

You nudged his elbow with yours. “No. This is flirting. Try to keep up.”

His head shot up, eyes wide.

Oh yeah, he was so down bad.

The banter didn’t stop, it just evolved. Sharper, brighter, like the two of you were passing jokes back and forth faster than the Hellfire boys could keep up. Eddie was grinning so hard it looked like it hurt. You were still smirking, but now there was a glint in your eyes, something softer, warmer.

It wasn’t a competition anymore.

It was a rhythm.

You reached for your juice box just as Eddie leaned over to grab a napkin, your fingers brushed.

Not full-on hand-holding. Just the tips. Just enough for his breath to catch.

And his heart? Yeah. That thing skipped like a scratched tape.

You didn’t flinch. But your eyes flicked up, met his. The faintest pulse, electric, unspoken.

He recovered fast, tossing you a wink. “Sorry, didn’t mean to cop a feel.”

“Eddie,” you said flatly, “your finger grazed mine. Settle down before you need a cigarette.”

“Oof. Brutal,” he grinned, tilting his head. “I’m just trying to build some romantic tension here. Let me live.”

“I’m still recovering from the Last Unicorn thing,” you teased, just as Eddie picked up Gareth’s half-finished can of grape soda for no reason at all.

He opened his mouth to respond, but he was laughing too hard.

It came out of him in a loud, sudden honk bark, surprised and delighted by you. He threw his head back and bumped the can with the edge of his palm, sending purple fizz skittering across the table and directly into Jeff’s lap.

There was a beat of stunned silence.

Jeff: “Dude.”

Eddie froze mid-cackle, still grinning like an idiot. “Oh my god. I swear that wasn’t planned.”

“I just washed these jeans!” Jeff wailed, jumping up.

But you were laughing now too.

Really laughing.

Head back, lips parted, one hand over your stomach. It hit you in a wave, sudden and genuine, the way good moments always do when you least expect them. It wasn’t mocking. It wasn’t cruel. It was just… joy.

And Eddie looked at you like someone had just turned the sun on.

For all the chaos, for all the fizzy embarrassment, he couldn’t stop staring.

“There it is,” he mumbled, almost to himself.

You glanced over, catching the look. “There what is?”

He blinked. Smile crooked. “Nothing. Just… I win.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure you do, soda assassin.”

But your knee bumped against his under the table and neither of you moved away.

The table was still buzzing with secondhand embarrassment and grape soda residue, but Eddie had stopped noticing everything around him.

He was fully zeroed in on you now, watching the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed, the way you kept nudging him like the two of you had done this a thousand times before. Like it was natural.

You teased him again about the soda, something about “friendly fire” and “reckless endangerment of cafeteria fashion,” and he just grinned, all teeth and dimples and overwhelmed brain cells.

And then-

“Oh my god,” Dustin groaned loudly. “You’re literally drooling. Just ask her out already.”

Eddie choked.

Mike, who hadn’t looked up from his peanut butter sandwich in minutes, casually added, “Seriously. You’re embarrassing yourself and the dice gods.”

Eddie whipped his head around, eyes wide, face flaming. “I am not drooling!”

Dustin raised his brows. “Your mouth’s open. You keep staring. You just spilled a drink because she laughed. That’s a rom-com trifecta, man.”

Eddie looked like he was about to start foaming at the mouth out of sheer panic.

You, meanwhile, turned toward him slowly, resting your chin in your hand, eyes twinkling with dangerous amusement.

“Is that true?” you asked, voice light. “You planning to ask me out?”

The whole table went still.

Gareth’s spoon halfway to his mouth. Jeff frozen mid-blotting his jeans. Even Grant paused mid-sip of whatever mystery fluid he’d found in the vending machine.

Eddie swallowed hard.

You tilted your head. Not pushing. Not teasing this time.

Just… curious.

And flirtatious as hell.

Eddie’s mouth opened. Then closed. Like he was loading a save file from deep within his soul.

He cleared his throat, sat up a little straighter, and, miraculously, dialed it down. Just a notch. Enough that the swagger melted into something real beneath the surface noise. Less Dungeon Master, more Eddie.

“So hey,” he said, rubbing his palms against his jeans like he wasn’t sweating bullets, “if you’re not busy Friday night…”

You raised a brow, waiting. Dangerous glint back in your eyes.

“Wanna grab a burger and shake with me or something? Nothing fancy. Just... you and me. Maybe I don’t trip over anything or knock drinks over this time.”

The table leaned in as one collective being, holding its breath.

You let the silence stretch, just long enough to make him squirm. Not cruelly. Just a moment of power. Of play.

And then, with the faintest smile tugging at your lips:

“Only if you promise not to start with another cheesy line.”

Eddie exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for days. Grin spreading again, lopsided and a little dazed.

“No promises,” he said, “but I’ll try my best.”

From across the table, Gareth let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. “God, finally. I was about to start drawing hearts around your names on my character sheet.”

Dustin fist-pumped. “Hellfire matchmaking is real.”

You turned to Eddie one last time, eyes warm now, no teasing, just interested.

“Pick me up at seven, Munson.”

And just like that, you turned back to your crossword. Calm. Casual. Still in control.

Eddie sat there stunned for a second, watching you like you’d just cast a spell he didn’t know how to break.

“Holy shit,” he whispered to no one in particular.

“Did that just work?”

The moment you agreed to the date, all hell broke loose.

“WOOOOOO!” Dustin shot up from his seat like a firework. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

Gareth banged a plastic fork against his tray like it was a gong. “Get it, Munson!”

Mike, ever the realist, just shook his head with a smirk. “She’s way out of your league, man.”

Jeff added dryly, “I think she just asked you out, technically.”

Eddie threw his hands in the air. “Okay, okay, calm down, you gremlins! You’re embarrassing me in front of my date.”

Dustin grinned. “You embarrassed yourself, dude. We’re just the backup dancers.”

You stood up slowly, collecting your tray with easy grace, as if you hadn’t just turned Eddie Munson into a walking heart-eye emoji in front of half the cafeteria.

As you passed behind him, you casually reached out, fingers threading through a few curls at the back of his neck, tugging lightly, just enough to make him sit up straighter.

Your hand drifted forward, fingertips brushing the edge of his jaw with the softest tease of a caress.

“See you at seven, Eddie.”

And just like that, you walked away, cool, unbothered, radiant.

Eddie was left blinking at the air you left behind, looking like he’d just astral projected. He turned slowly back to the table, eyes wide and slightly unfocused.

“Holy shit,” he whispered.

“Did that really just happen?” He looked around. “You guys saw that, right?”

Dustin patted his shoulder solemnly. “We saw, buddy. We all saw.”

Gareth nodded. “You okay? You look like you got hit with a charm spell.”

Eddie just stared into the distance, a soft, stunned smile curling on his lips.

“I think I’m in love.”

Part Two Follow Up: "Error 404: First Date Loading"

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