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strong-with-the-sarcasm · 6 months

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Part 13- goddamn when you're young

"My heart plays the songs of my lost years. My scars are a church for my old fears. My body's a wreck, but I don't care, I swear. So say a prayer, gotta lift me up, goddamn when you're young in America." -Young In America by Barns Courtney

Masterlist Part 12

Jazz felt the shockwave of the bomb seconds before the sound reached them. Concussive, lethal, far too close as Jazz pushed Jason to the ground, trying to shield him with her body. It was instinct to protect her loved ones, her body was near indestructible after all.

Chunks of wall and metal rained down on them, striking Jazz in the back but not forcing her down just yet, making sure to keep Jason tucked as far under her as possible and cradling his head. The debris hurt but ultimately couldn’t harm her, but they were stuck under until it was safe to move.

“Jason?” Jazz murmured, hearing still sensitive from the shockwave. He was still under her, shallow breaths against her sternum proof he was alive, but Jazz needed to hear his voice.

“Jason, talk to me.” She tried again, this time shuffling a bit to get some debris off her spine that was uncomfortable.

She felt him speak against her, “Jazz.” His speech was slurred so her name came out more like ‘ass’, funny it would be in any other moment, but not now that she felt like one for not being able to protect her boyfriend from what killed him previously. He wasn’t alone this time, Jazz was here and she wasn’t going to let go until she absolutely had to.

“It’s ok, Jay, I got you.” She promised, “We have to move.” Time was running out, just like her faith in this shitty apartment to hold itself together after such a blast. She had to get them both out of here, but-

Her train of thought was interrupted by something warm on her thigh. Jazz didn’t need to guess what it was from the smell alone.

Blood.

It wasn’t hers, no it had the tinge of corrupted ecto to it and held Jason’s scent just on the surface.

Fuck, he’d been hurt.

Jazz cursed out loud and shifted again, forcing debris away from the two of them so she could summon her sword. It was dangerous to rip open a portal from below, but she had no other choice. Thankfully, she was skilled enough to create a directional difference on the other side, so no debris would fall on them and they themselves wouldn’t have to plummet from above.

Channeling her energy towards her hand, Jazz released her hold on Jason’s head as she felt the cool metal of her sword handle settle into her palm, vibrating slightly from being called forth.

Envisioning the Far Frozen, her sword vibrated more strongly in acceptance before she imagined where she wanted the portal and with far more effort that she should have expended, Jazz thrusted her sword into the floor beneath them.

Her beautiful sword, her Faithkeeper, hummed as the fabric of reality was torn asunder and allowed for the Infinite Realms to bleed through, Jazz held her breath as Jason’s muffled scream echoed in her chest as they sunk through her portal to be embraced by winter frost.

It wasn’t easy to let Jason be taken from her grasp, even if it was Frostbite himself who cradled her lover to his soft fur. The Yeti had come bounding across the snow to her side, ready to fight an army but only to be greeted by Jazz’s teary face as she cradled the love of her life to her chest.

Frostbite didn’t say anything as he brought them both back to the tribe.

Jazz refused to leave Jason’s side even as he was stitched up, gently carding a shaking hand through his dark hair, wanting nothing more than to wrap him up in a blanket and hide him from the world. He had been hurt in her apartment, on her watch, in her haunt. It was unacceptable.

Danny would no doubt be investigating the explosion that had occurred in his haunt, even if Jazz’s tear in reality hadn’t alerted him to the fact that something was very wrong. She hadn’t tasted any corrupted ectoplasm in the air, which the GIW unknowingly used in their weapons post-Fenton death and lack of access to the Realms, but still didn’t eliminate them as suspects.

The question was- Why? If Jazz could answer that then she’d eventually find the culprit and properly deal with them.

(Eviscerate them.)

But not right now, Jason was more important than murder getting on the trail of whoever was idiotic enough to hurt the man she loved.

By the time Jason woke up, Jazz had zero doubts she would have to come clean about everything spooky going on.

His blue eyes were narrowed In contemplation as he digested her words, her explanation of where they were, what happened, why they were there and so on.

He didn’t seem angry, which she took as a good sign.

“So I’m a Revenant.” The word sounded wrong in the air between them, bitter with the memory of death, his death.

“You were, but now-“

He cut her off, “I’m a Liminal.”

Jazz nodded, softly rubbing her thumb over his hand she held in her own, comforted by the rhythm of his pulse against her fingers.

“And you’re like me?” It was a question, one of hope that Jason wasn’t alone, that someone would understand.

“Yes, I’m a liminal too.” They had time to get into the finer details of their respective liminality, Proto-Cores and all. For right now, the basics were enough.

Jason fixed his gaze back on her, searching her features for something, something he clearly found much to her bewilderment, “You’re Regent.”

It was spoken with awe and sadness. Jason knew what she had done to the Fentons, to her proginators, but he still wasn’t angry.

She didn’t answer him with words, only lifting his hand to her lips to leave a kiss on his palm. Many things would need to be discussed later, but for now they had this moment to rest.

Frostbite allowed them to stay in the healing tent for a day cycle, content with Jason’s vitals and ecto-levels left the room, but not before sparing Jazz a knowing look as she held fast to her boyfriend. Yes, the old Yeti knew the answers to several questions of hers and it only served to further tie the two liminals together.

Jason, for his part, was calm and resting peacefully despite how his temperature began to fluctuate every so often, not as bad as when he’d first been brought to the Realms though. Further proof that he was settling in well as a Proto-core liminal, but Jasmine still worried every time a shiver ran through him. She didn’t want to invade his space without his consent, especially now that it wasn’t life threatening enough that she had to use her own Proto-core heat, but she still wanted nothing more than to curl into his chest and block out the world.

“Jazz….” Jason mumbled, drawing the Regent back to her love. He was somewhat conscious again, but still ready to be dragged back under.

“Yeah, Jay?” Jasmine responded, hand squeezing his own lightly where she had yet to let go.

Her love didn’t answer, lifting up his opposite arm from the one she held captive and Jazz took the initiative embarrassingly quick to climb over and settle against his side in a familiar fashion as they would on her bed.

(Jazz loved the smell of him on her sheets.)

(Gunpowder, petrichor and something uniquely Jason.)

“‘M sorry, Jay.” The red head mumbled, head resting against his chest right above the steady beat of his heart. There were many things she had to apologize for in this lifetime (and never would), but for Jason she felt they were necessary. He’d been nothing but good to her, watching over her as she walked home late at night, softly reading to her by lamplight, cooking her favorite food… he was her perfect match.

Her soulmate.

Despite how bad she wanted to mock the overused cliche, Jazz could not dispute its validity at any angle other than sheer audacity of it happening to her of all people.

(The one lost in the dark.)

Perhaps it was meant to be, she mused, with her proclivity towards the darkness of mind and soul that her other half would possess a proto-core of shadows. The same ones that hid him, aided him and now gave him life in a completely ironic sense.

(Not dead.)

(One foot in the grave.)

(Cat in a box.)

(What are we today?)

“No.” Jason rumbled underneath her ear in the same baritone she loved to hear. He didn’t say anything more, so Jazz left him to fall back asleep. They would talk more later anyways.

For now, Jazz was left to her thoughts.

Danny’d been about to take a sip of his milkshake when the ripple of sheer terror came over him, body and core. One that he’d only felt when Amity was pulled into the Realms, when his people were hurt and terrified.

Jazz.

He didn’t even bother to say goodbye to Signal, the Sunshine child startled by Danny’s sudden departure- no he literally started sprinting in the direction of his haunt, where Jazz should be, not even dropping his milkshake as he ran. The meta was probably going to follow him but he wasn’t all that concerned, hell he’d take Sunshine over Stabby any day… but Jazz!

Jazz was in trouble!

The ripple was her effect on his core, a side effect of a portal being opened within the bounds of his haunt. Usually he didn’t really pay attention to it, other than a passing thought that she was back home safe, but terror at the same time? No. Jazz was in trouble and he needed to be there now.

(And he fucking forgot he could fly. )

Tossing his milkshake over his shoulder to where the meta was almost about to grab him by the arm, Danny ducked out of sight and transformed into his ghostly alter, rings of light barely making a complete pass before he was off in the air.

He left a very baffled daylight hero, covered in boo-berry delight, watching him go.

Duke, not for the first time, had the thought of- Add that to the list of ‘must never let B find out’.

Prime adoption bait Danny Nightingale was prime bat bait because he was a vigilante already.

He’d seen the strange shadow shapes around the teenager ever since they’d first met on a random Gotham rooftop, with Danny lounging on a lawn chair with coffee and a look that screamed he wished for the sweet release of death, but he’d put it down to ‘meta-in-hiding’ and closed the case.

(Not before getting the background on the kid thanks to Oracle.)

It wasn’t the first time his ghost sight had outed a meta and Duke was positive it wouldn’t be the last, but Danny had been the first to have an overlay rather than an aura. Others, metas included, had silhouettes of themselves of colors associated with them as a being. Batman was charcoal grey, Jason was red, Tim was brown and Duke was yellow. Rarely had he’d seen an overlay of something else, something other and familiar to the hero.

Standing over Danny’s shoulder, ever still and watchful with its green, green gaze fixed unflinching forwards was a King.

(A Phantom King.)

Skin tinted light blue as if suffering hypothermia, stark white hair braided across one shoulder with several glass beads tied into the strands that clinked with every shift Danny made in an echo of wind chimes, sharp features set in a neutral expression as if frozen in place. Snowflakes dusted the light blue collar of a black cloak fastened at the collarbone with a shard of ice entrapping a green flame and galaxies lazily floating across the span of the cloak, though with every movement it parted to reveal a white shirt tucked haphazardly into black jeans.

The being wore a crown of green ice on its head that reflected the sunlight.

Duke felt in his bones that should he dare try anything against Danny that he would come face to face with the otherworldly being.

(Why did the being look like a victim of hypothermia?)

(Why was it attached to Danny?)

(And why did he just see a variation of it fly away?)

It wasn’t until Duke was about to fall asleep some hours later that the realization struck him about what he’d seen standing behind Danny.

He’d seen the future Phantom.

Phantom frosted over the smoldering embers of what had been his sister’s apartment building, the remnants clinging to a broken frame like a shambling corpse. He’d not been able to hear anyone in need, most importantly he couldn’t hear Jazz though. Her apartment was on the top floor with roof access, but it was empty of life forms much to his relief. Jazz had probably gotten out using a portal.

Phantom lingered for a few moments in the debris of his sister’s home, carefully sorting through for anything salvageable that couldn’t wait. Most of the shelves were furthest from the blast zone so Jazz’s books were going to be fine, though singed and ash coated alongside the contents of her closet, which included a hidden safe Phantom phased a hand through.

His hand touched something glass, thrumming with power underneath his fingers and familiar.

(Pure ecto.)

(What Jazz needs to remain alive.)

Phantom hurriedly retrieved the vials, shoving them into his chest for safekeeping before moving on towards where he suspects the bomb was placed.

It was odd.

He’d been expecting corroded remains of a cannablized Fenton explosive, the ones he’d been familiar with down in the lab, but this was plainly human for even a goopy ghouly ghosty like him to see.

Not a trace of corrupted ectoplasm either, a sure sign of GIW presence due to the nature of their technology. The GIW wouldn’t plant something like this for the hell of it right? It’s not ‘anti-ghost’ in the slightest!

Who else would target Jazz, the most ecto-contaminated being on Earth?

(Unless she wasn’t the target.)

Definitely human oriented explosive, timed and locked firmly into place with what looks to be a steel plate bolted into the floorboards, clearly meant to be left unattended for a long period of time. Delayed detonation.

(Explosives were never his strong suit.)

(But he’d learnt at the knee of Jack Fenton.)

(And so he knew many things he wished he didn’t.)

(What his beating heart looks like.)

(“-molecule by molecule!”)

This wasn’t meant for a liminal being, but for humans.

Either someone targeted Jazz without that bit of extra knowledge or she wasn’t the target.

(Sure looked like it though.)

(Right in the middle of the empty apartment next door.)

“I’m telling you, his tracker stopped working right there!”

Tim didn’t like going outside most days. The sun hurt his eyes and he hated being swarmed by people.

(Ugh, people.)

Yet, here he was, in the outernet with only sunglasses and a ball cap to ward off pesky reporters on his way to the last location of his most murderous sibling at the edge of said sibling’s territory.

(Tim hated Crime Alley with a vengeance.)

The Ridge wasn’t where he’d ever expect to find Jason, the older man preferring to remain in the Alley if he wasn’t wandering Gotham proper. The Ridge was neglected and crime ridden up to a few months previously, the vigilantes Phantom and Regent claimed the territory as their own to protect. It was kind of awe-inspiring to study the real-time data plummet with their presence, though the big Bat himself wasn’t pleased with openly active ‘Metas’ in his city despite their obvious positive influence.

Phantom was once a vigilante from Amity Park, Illinois, the town that claimed itself to be the most haunted place on Earth. It’s population was halved on its opinion of the ghost, almost split perfectly between generations on whether or not the teenager was a hero or the one controlling the attacking ghosts. With what Tim knew now thanks to the Ghost Files, he was of the firm belief that the vigilante was only defending his haunt from both ghost hunters and ghosts. Major Justice League level threats had been handled by Phantom almost single-handedly, though Batman had been livid to discover that someone had classified the distress calls from the small town as pranks.

(He’d listened to every single one.)

(There was nothing about them that screamed prank.)

(And no, they still hadn’t found who had committed such a fuck up.)

It was fortunate that Phantom was a Protector spirit with all the powers available to him, not to mention the grit and resilience he displayed in every major fight he threw himself into. Mad respect to the ghost boy, couldn’t have been easy.

(Though Tim could never unsee the death and rebirth of that same hero.)

(The scream echoes in his ears when he thinks too hard about it.)

Unfortunately for him, his thoughts screeched to a halt when he found the location he’d been sent to.

A burnt shell of an apartment building held together by Phantom’s ice, firefighters carefully searching for anyone left trapped inside, civilians loitering around like ants at a picnic. No one spared him more than a passing glance, but Tim still noted the weary gazes and tried to get information. No one could say anything more than an explosion happened, with Phantom following close behind to form Ice on the building in an effort to keep it intact, before the ghost kid entered himself and Phantom had yet to leave.

Jason was in the building when the explosion happened, but without a time to match the tracker read out to they wouldn’t know if he’d been killed in the blast, tracker affected by the shockwave or pinned down by debris.

“Hey babs, did Jason have a safe house here?” Tim asked, soft spoken into his phone so as to not be overheard.

Barbara didn’t answer, but Tim had a feeling he wasn’t going to like whatever she said next.

“…in a way?”

“You just answered a question with a question.” He accused, a bit of shock coloring his words. Barbara definitely knew something she wasn’t sharing.

“Jason might have… a girlfriend…”

“What.”

It came pouring out, “Its so cute, they’re so cute. He just adores her and she’s so sweet to him, I’ve never seen him smile so much and he’s so calm-“

“Woah, woah, slow down, Jason has a girlfriend?” If it wasn’t so concerning from his angle, the explosion wracked building in front of him, he would be cackling at the juicy blackmail as only a younger sibling can.

“Mhm, Jasmine Nightingale, twenty years old and applicant for Gotham University currently pending. Younger brother is Danny Nightingale who often talks to Signal whenever Duke crosses his path, obsessed with Space and science, currently attending Gotham Academy. Jasmine has a trust fund allowance from the estate of her presumed dead godfather, but that’s the only thing that stands out.”

(Jasmine and Jason.)

(Tim felt happy for his older brother despite their history.)

“This is her apartment, isn’t it.”

Tim didn’t need Barbara to answer that either, the silence spoke for itself.

“Well, shit.”

A/N: 3k words for you! @meditating-cat had suggested making the last section more dramatic, but I want to save that for the next part where I want Bruce to react. And now Jason finally knows the truth! I can't wait to write more about him as Hood with Regent out in Gotham.

Yes, beta read by @meditating-cat who also gave me some song suggestions. If you have any of your own please don't hesitate to message me! I love music and often use it for inspiration in my works.

In fact the very last part of this series was written first as a draft before I even made Regent!Jazz or Vigilante!Jazz, because of a Katy Perry song.

It has always been a Hardcover pairing though.

Thanks for reading!

#dp x dc #dp x dc au #dpxdc #jazz fenton #dc x dp crossover #regent!jazz #jason todd #anger management ship #hardcover ship #jazz x jason #Tim: He has a girlfriend?#Barbara: THEY ARE SO CUTE TOGETHER #Of course Oracle knows about Jazz #But Jason made her swear not to tell anyone until he was ready for Jazz to meet the Batfam #but now Jason is in the know about Jazz and Danny!#Yes beta read we live like Jason Todd!#Jazz is gonna have the Batgirls give her a shovel talk #Danny loves his milkshakes #I couldn't resist the pun

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social-mockingbird · 2 years

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dangerous habits

(eleventh doctor x reader)

time for more unabashed crushing on Matt Smith’s Doctor! i’m sort of a sucker for pet names (in the right context, of course) and Eleven’s offhand habit of calling things sweet names usually has me blushing a bit, so of course i had to write about it, because that’s how fanfiction works, and i really, really like him, sometimes against my better judgement. hopeless romantic, me.

author’s rec while you read: i had bad habits by ed sheeran running through my head the entire time i was coming up with a title, go figure. if that’s not your bowl of rice then anything that makes you happy will bop just fine. :)

____________

It’s official.

That habit of his was going to kill you.

“Oi, do you have the wrench?”

Quickly adjusting your leg so it stops needling and tingling, you place the tool in the hand waggling at you from under the TARDIS console. The Doctor pokes his head out briefly to give you a teasing smile.

“Thanks, dear.”

Your shoulders tense almost involuntarily. There it was.

He disappears under the console before you can smack him, leaving you hot and bothered. His little endearments have always rubbed you the right way, but more so than usual lately. The tone in his voice when he calls the TARDIS Sexy is enough cause to bang your head against something, never mind when he does it to you.

(It was apparently a long story, the TARDIS’ nickname. You weren’t quite sure you wanted to know.)

“You’re awfully quiet today, love. Something wrong?”

You can’t look at him as he emerges, putting his ridiculous goggles atop his head and wiping the grease from his face and hands.

“Hey? Hello? Anyone in there?” He raps his knuckles against your forehead, grinning. “Oi. It’s just me. Did I do something?”

“No,” you manage finally, flashing him a quick smile. “I’m fine. Just thinking.”

“No, when you’re thinking, you do this.” He scrunches his face into a remarkable imitation of you, even resting his chin on the heel of his hand and spacing out so well you almost wave a hand in front of his face. Then he’s got your attention, so quickly you can’t look away.

“When you’re bothered,” he says, “you make that face.” He pokes your cheek. “Tell me. I can help.”

“Sorry, Doc. You can’t help with this one.”

He looks offended. “Oi! I can help with just about anything, if you’ll remember?”

“You and your pride,” you tease, lightening up at his childish behaviour. “I’m serious, though. This isn’t really something you can fix.”

“And why’s that, love?”

His sudden closeness, combined with the endearment, startles you. A hot blush surges up your cheeks. His motley eyes search your face. They widen.

Oh, he knows.

Oh, no.

He knows.

A smirk starts to tweak the corners of his mouth.

“Oh, dear,” he almost purrs, and how on earth is such an awkward man being this attractive; creative curses run through your mind because there’s almost no space between you now, and the glow of the console is casting sharp shadows on his cheekbones, and his eyes are galaxies...

“I understand now,” he murmurs, lips so close to the shell of your ear that you shudder. “I’m bothering you, aren’t I...sexy?”

You reach out to push him away, you really do. But when your hands land on his chest, and his hand slides onto your knee, and you meet his eyes again, well—you don’t even think the TARDIS blames you for kissing him.

Though you’re almost positive the staccato flare of the lowlights is her way of laughing at your visible shock when the Doctor grasps your waist and kisses you back with everything he has in him.

look at this dumb man ugh I love him and his stupid goggles and pretty backlighting

#eleventh doctor x reader #eleventh doctor #matt smith #matt smith is stupidly adorable #reader insert #11th Doctor #11th doctor x reader #vera writes #vera has crushes and writes fanfictions about them #the scene the gif is taken from really lives rent free in my head #despite it being more of a small throwaway scene #i just loved the weird calm of him working on the TARDIS #sitting under there with him would be really nice #despite the sparks flying #literally and figuratively #hehehehe #vera makes bad puns

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