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inkdemonapologist · 13 days

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My BatDR Take That Used To Be Hot But I Left It Out On The Windowsill To Cool So You Should Be Able to Eat It Now Without Burning Your Tongue

its not actually that hot, is what im saying

Anyway my BatDR hot take is that BatDR's story is not fundamentally worse than BatIM with one exception; an exception that, for BatIM, covers a multitude of sins:

BatIM has a theme.

I can't presume the intentions of the creators, but if I had to write an essay on the themes in BatIM, it wouldn't be hard to pick one out: the cost of obsession, or even just, the ruin Joey brought on the studio. In the very first chapter, Henry asks "Joey, what were you doing?" and every single thing in the rest of the game revolves around that central question: what WAS Joey doing? Each audiolog is a snippet of the studio's path to this messed up state; each character you meet is someone ruined by Joey. The major antagonists echo Joey's flaws -- obsession with Bendy as more than a cartoon, obsession with perfection, obsession with fame and greatness and legacy -- but even without that, they're also each a picture of how the lives of people caught in the path of Joey's dream were ruined by it. Bertrum, for example, doesn't match the concept of rubberhose cartoons, but as yet another person screwed over by Joey, he fits the central question of the story, so he feels like he belongs here. Ultimately, in a narrative sense, the Ink Demon isn't the story's monster -- Joey is; the Ink Demon is just the consequence of his reckless ambition.

But what's the theme or central question of BatDR?

You can... try to pick out a theme. There's some promising options, because it feels like the story WANTED a theme, stating its emotional intentions more overtly -- "there's always a choice" to leave the darkness and chose hope; family and the struggle of living in a heavy legacy's shadow; or even just good old mewtwo-brand The Circumstance's Of One's Birth Are Irrelevant, It Is What You Do With The Gift Of Life That Determines Who You Are.

I think, even WITH the clumsy execution of Joey's "arc" and Audrey's lack of real choices, any of those could work about as well as BatIM. But unlike BatIM, the majority of the game doesn't tie in. Joey's tour can be considered relevant -- a picture of the family legacy and the "darkness" that Audrey doesn't yet know she's inheriting -- but like, the audiologs and hints and environment of BatDR are mostly teasing the question of What Is Gent Up To, and the takeover of Gent is detached from Audrey's choices, her family, her legacy, and Gent never really becomes a relevant threat to those things in this game. The Cult of Amok and the Ghost Train have nothing to do with any of these ideas. It might've been neat if Audrey had ever considered, "Did my father really drive all these people insane?", a hint of actually having to wonder about the darkness in her past. Even Wilson only barely brushes against these concepts; he doesn't like Joey and he also is trying to escape his family's heavy legacy, but it doesn't really reflect on his actions and we don't find that last part out until he's about to be dead.

There's also the question Wilson poses of "real" people versus ink creations, and what counts as valid "life." It would be an interesting theme with a lot to build off of in this setting, it ties into Wilson more as Wilson seems to represent the opinion that Inky Things Aren't Really Alive, which could've tied to Audrey (as an ink-person who has yet to accept that part of herself) and maybe given Wilson a reason to think it's fine to sacrifice her, it could've even tied to Gent (who don't even seem to value human life) -- but after Wilson asks the question, it doesn't tie into the direction things go. He smooshes a little Bendy, we see hints of his disregard for Betty, and then everyone continues with their plan to destroy the Ink Demon without any further moral quandaries about inky life.

The thing is, when you compare an element like, say, audiologs, there's a lot of differences you can point to -- but I don't actually think Lacie Benton's audiolog is notably better, taken on its own, than Grace Conway's or Kitty Thompson's, and yet tons of people were intrigued enough to flesh out Lacie. None of them are big plot points or compelling characters on their own; Lacie and Grace both give us a little note on what it's like working in the Studio, and Kitty shares a little bit on how Gent's expansion is affecting people. But when Lacie talks about Bertrum trying to make a creepy animatronic, that ties back into Joey's ill-fated schemes that are the point of the whole story. The question we're asking through the whole game is "what happened here?" so the fandom is interested in who Lacie is and what her life was like and extrapolates a whole person out of a couple sentences. But that's not the question in BatDR -- what has Wilson done to the Cycle and the Demon? Why? Who is Audrey really, and why is she here? Telling us new things about the Studio's fate seems strangely irrelevant to those questions, just an attempt to create a Mystery To Speculate On like the previous game did... but what question you're asking and how it fits into your story's main theme, like, matters. I absolutely believe that one clock animator guy would've been in EVERYONE'S crew if he'd been introduced in BatIM, but the context makes a difference; fleshing him out feels less relevant here.

The explanations of how and why Wilson did everything he did are baffling and handwavey, but in and of itself that's not a worse problem than anything else in the franchise -- I STILL don't understand why the Ink Machine needs pipes in the walls or even how it works, there's no good reason for Sammy to believe the Ink Demon will "set him free," most of Alice's motives don't make sense, etc etc etc. But the thing is that in BatDR, the wibbly bit is the closest thing to a central question we have! Wilson, what were you doing? The theme doesn't really explore or connect to that question, so the explanations that are finally tossed our way feel lacking in a way that BatIM's handwaved elements don't. There's a lot about Joey's motivation in BatIM that we can't know, but the heart of it resonates -- Joey wanted something, he was willing to exploit people to get it, and he became obsessed and prioritised that dream at any cost. We'll weather a thousand logistical inconsistencies if it's got heart.

But all of that said.... to be honest, I don't think Lacie overtly fits that theme anyway. Even, like, Sammy is iffy -- we don't really know what happened to him, only that he didn't used to be made of ink and worship Bendy, and now he does. We assume Joey's nonsense had something to do with what happened to him (though the books later assert his influence was indirect at best), because when there's a pattern, we can fill in the blank. So many fan creators found a place for Lacie, Grant, and Shawn in the cycle as butcher clones or lost ones, so many people imagined that Wally must be the Boris we meet, because that would've fit the pattern, the idea that the point of what we're seeing is the downfall of the studio. It's not actually that BatIM did a great job tying everything together -- it's that BatIM gave us a compelling idea and that was all it took to make everything else SEEM like it could find a place to fit. This is what I mean when I say BatIM's theme covers a multitude of sins. There's a LOT of characters in BatIM that don't make sense. There's a lot of inconsistencies and things that just sort of happen without any real reason. Characters don't really have "arcs" so much as different states they happen to be in at different times. But because there's a central question and the story doesn't wander away from it, our pattern-loving human brains will slot in all the pieces and do all the work to make the story feel at least somewhat coherent.

The things that happened in BatDR aren't a whole lot less coherent than BatIM imo, they just don't tie into a bigger theme or any of the questions the story's asking, making "how do they fit into all this" feel irrelevant, making it easier to forget entire sections and harder to get invested in audiolog characters. I think a lot of the other criticisms people have for BatDR's story are very valid, but I also suspect that if BatDR had a more successful theme/central question, then a lot of its flaws would be easier to overlook -- just like BatIM.

#we all write on the walls #batdr #short-ish essay is fond but critical of both games so puts it in a readmore for the fine folks in the tag who arent here for that haha #batim #bendy and the ink machine #lmao I WROTE THIS LAST YEAR ITS JUST BEEN SITTING IN MY DRAFTS #go out into the world little post... be free......#also I do think the fact that batdr kind of dropped the central question of batim #is probably also a significant factor #if you were really invested in the main thrust of batim then batdr doesnt really follow it or finish that exploration #just tries to give it an answer and move on #so again it comes down to the theme and the central question just in a different way

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you-wanna-know · 1 month

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When is it going to get warm enough that I don’t have to wear jackets/cardigans????

#me #self #selfie #cmon guys it’s almost May #shouldn’t we be in short sleeves by now???#or am I just gaslighting myself?#in pictures last year I was already in summer dresses #oh yeah my streaks are blue now #by accident remember #though I like them a lot more now they’re like turquoise #also I need to start looking HOT again #I’ve been giving like meh cute recently #I need to look 🔥🔥 again

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sinlizards · 1 year

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some old bibi doodles from back when i finished AINI 🐭

#aini spoilers #aitsf spoilers #mizuki kuranushi #aitsf #aini #ai the somnium files #nirvana initiative #my art #fan art #2022 #<-cuz it was last year i drew these woops #undescribed #i think this was the only time i ever drew her.. i also thought she had short hair during her reveal cuz of the hood #and im just sticking to that cuz i like her having short hair better

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starry-bi-sky · 9 months

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Childhood Friends Au: Danny's in Gotham Again

when the wool is off your eyes you'll stop counting sheep at night cause you'll eat your fill of them during the daytime

A few weeks after Danny’s visit to Gotham, he buys an apartment in the city. It’s this little thing, a studio apartment on the same street he grew up in. In Crime Alley. When he tells his parents, they protest heavily. They don’t think it's safe. They think he should reconsider. There were plenty of apartments and places to live somewhere else. And what about college?

Danny doesn’t think he’ll go to college. He isn’t sure what he wants to do, now that being an astronaut is off the table. It’d be a waste of money to go without a goal in mind, he thinks. He says he’ll take a gap year and apply at one of the community colleges funded by the Wayne Corporation, possibly. It just wasn’t in the cards right now.

“If things get tough,” He says at dinner that night, “then I can talk to the Waynes. I’m friends with the family, remember?” He ended up getting Bruce’s number in his phone again before he left, and in the process got Tim’s as well. They don’t talk much, Danny isn’t sure what to say. But he sends Tim memes whenever he comes across one and thinks he’ll like. Tim sends memes back in return.

His parents do remember. They remember. They also remember the horrified shriek that echoed through the house when Danny learned of Jason’s passing. They remember running up the stairs and bursting into their son’s room and finding him sobbing into his bed, curled up like a little kid, like he was in pain. He lost his voice that day, stuck between screaming out his grief and sobbing it.

They’re still not sure if they should let him go.

In the end, Danny wins them out, and he lets them help him search for an apartment. They take a break from their lab work to help search for cheap furniture to buy. They may have more money than when they were in Gotham, but that frugal part of you never fully goes away. They all agree that they don’t want Danny to be seen carrying in nice-looking furniture when he moves in.

He ends up with a basic furniture set, all mismatched, and in the warm summer of June, his parents rent out a u-haul and drive him down to Gotham to move in. They meet the landlord when they arrive, a skinny and frail old man with wispy white hair and a wrinkled face. He gives Danny the keys and tells him what apartment number he is, and then he leaves.

His parents help him move in. They help him carry his heavy furniture up to the second floor, where his apartment is. Danny isn’t sure if he wants them to help. His mom and dad are strong, but they are getting old, closer to their fifties now that their children are grown. His dad’s hair is slowly beginning to thin, and rather than the white eating at the sides of his head, it now streaks through his hair like salt-and-pepper. His mom’s hair is graying out too, and there are more lines in their faces than he remembers there being.

When he voices his concerns, his mom laughs spiritedly and says that they may be getting old, but they are still as spry as when they were in their twenties. Danny isn’t sure if he believes them or not. He can see his dad struggle a bit when they return to get his bed frame, and they have to take a break before they go back down for the rest of their things.

Five years ago, his dad could do this without breaking a sweat. It forces a heavy thing in the back of Danny’s throat. (He is less afraid of his own death than he is of his loved ones, and while he has always felt rocky with his parents, he still loves them more than anything else.)

Danny’s apartment is exactly as he would have expected it to be: shabby and worn through. The entire room smells like stale cigarette smoke and weed, nicotine stains the wall with poorly covered bullet holes, and stains in the carpet that are a color he can’t discern. The fridge has a broken light and when he tries to turn on the gas stove, it click-click-clicks before lighting, fire fwooshing out while the smell of gas fills the air. There’s rat droppings in the cupboards and the closet-like bathroom is just as bad.

The ghostly part of him can sense the heavy stench of death in the room; people have died in this room. People have died in every room of this building, he thinks. They have died on the streets outside and in the alleys squeezed between them. He can feel it like a heavy fog in the air.

It is painfully nostalgic, a bittersweet feeling in his chest that he grimaces to.

When the last box is placed in his apartment, his parents offer to help unpack. They are hesitant to leave and Danny knows it, although he doesn’t know if it’s from empty nest syndrome or because it's Gotham. He thinks it might be both. He is their youngest child finally leaving home to a city known for its danger.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to stay behind, sweetie?” His mother asks, a frown she tries to hide settled in the creases of her face. She fiddles with her hands, a nervous habit Danny has since noticed when she feels truly unsure and doesn’t need to hide it. Hesitancy looms over her like a heavy cloud.

His dad jumps in hastily, splaying his hands and smiling painfully wide to hide the glistening in his eyes. “You’re mother’s right! We can help you get everything set up, champ. I could probably do something with that stove of yours to make it faster!” He says, his voice still booming like it always does even if there’s a stumble in his words.

It makes his heart squeeze, knowing just how much they care. It was hard last summer, telling him that he was the Phantom. Terrifying, actually. They couldn’t comprehend it. He hadn’t felt his heart beat that fast in years when he stood in front of them at the kitchen table and told them he was a halfa, begging them to believe that ghosts weren’t inherently evil.

His parents were people of science, however, and after much, much shock, they slowly came to terms with it. How could they not? The evidence was right in front of them. Their son was dead-alive, alive-dead. Somewhere stuck in the between. The tears they shed that night could fill a river, moving from the kitchen to the living room as Danny explains how he died.

(When Danny tells them that he died after a week Jason did, his mom and dad look horrified. His mom covers her mouth when he adds that it was his idea to go inside it, his dad looks ashy pale, gripping his pant legs so tight that his knuckles turn white. There is a conclusion coming to their minds that he can tell they don’t like.)

(“You’ve always hated our inventions, Danny.” Mom says in a hushed voice, and Danny winces at the wording, sinking into the back of the cushions in shame. He never thought that his parents noticed. Mom quickly grabs his arm, “No, no, there’s nothing to be ashamed of Danny. We were… perhaps too careless with our inventions, too enthusiastic. You had every right to hate the things we made when they had a tendency to… to malfunction.”)

(Malfunction is a delicate way of putting it, when Danny remembers every time they had to evacuate their old apartment complex because whatever half-baked creation his parents made inevitably blew up into ash and smoke. There were soot marks permanently stained into the ceiling.)

(Her hand slides down and grabs his, and she cups it in both of her hands, squeezing tightly. He forces himself to look up, and there is a look like her heart breaking when he looks into his mother’s eyes. “You’ve always avoided the lab after we moved, Danny. And you had every right to, so why on Earth did you ever think about going into the portal?”)

(Danny struggles to come up with an adequate answer, a way to verbalize what came over him that day five years ago. The answer is there, hanging in the air like a knot in a noose. He opens his mouth, and then closes it.)

(Finally, with a tongue made of lead, he shrugs lamely and looks away. “I didn’t know there was an on button inside it.” He mumbles, and despite being the truth it feels like a lie. But that is the truth. He didn’t know there was an on button inside it. So he didn’t care what happened.)

(Something dulls in mom’s eyes, like she thought of something else that Danny hadn’t said. Her eyes shimmer, and she squeezes them shut, breathing in so deep that it shakes. And then she pulls him into a hug, a hand burying into his hair and pressing him close. “It must have hurt so much, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”)

(It is something that Danny doesn’t expect her to say, like missing the last step of the stairs. It startles him so much he laughs this short, bark of a thing. He feels his dad press against his back and wrap his big arms around them, his nose pushed into his hair.)

(Because yeah. Yeah, it did hurt. It hurt more than anything else he’s ever felt before. It had torn him apart and sewn him back together again, only to rinse and repeat. The pain was nothing he ever spoke to Sam or Tucker about, and it was something they never brought up. No, that’s not true. If they ever brought it up, Tucker would call it a zap. As if Danny only experienced a mild static shock. Like it was painless. It’s a pretty lie that Danny lets him and Sam believe.)

(His eyes sting and water immediately wobbles into his vision, coming up with such a force that he doesn’t even need to blink before it spills over. “Yeah.” He forces out, voice unexpectedly rough and cracking. “Yeah, it- it hurt. A lot.”)

He tells them about fighting the Lunch Lady a month later. He tells them about finding Jason. It comes spilling out like a waterfall. “I found him, mom.” He says, holding onto her tight while she keeps him tucked under his chin like a little kid. The secret of Jason being Robin stays hidden under his tongue, it is not his secret to tell. Not his identity to expose. He grips her tighter. “I found him, mom. Right there in the Ghost Zone, and he was my Jason. He wasn’t an echo or a— an imprint of him.”

Mom is silent; quiet and attentive, and so is dad, who rubs his large hands up and down Danny’s spine in an attempt to soothe him. It only works a little. Danny breathes in like a gasp as the urge to cry overcomes him again. He always avoids talking about Jason, his grief is like a never-healing scab that can be picked off at any time. It is ingrained into his core.

“And then I lost him.” He forces out, a sob layering under his words that he chokes on and swallows. The hand on his back stills, and he can feel mom and dad breathe in like a question. He turns his head and pushes it into mom’s shoulder. “He disappeared, mom. Just— just gone.”

“And he didn’t move on.” He says, voice snarling like teeth biting before his mom can ask, because he knows that’s what she was going to ask. It’s what Sam and Tucker asked when he came to them in tears hours after he found Jason gone. It’s what Jazz said when he finally told her about it. It’s what every one of his ghosts asked when he told them about it and begged for their help.

Danny grits his teeth and tries not to dig his nails into mom’s clothes as a fresh wave of tears run down his face. “His haunt is still there. If Jason really moved on it would have disappeared with him. That’s how it works. But it’s still in the zone, so Jason’s out there I just don’t know where.”

(Sam once asks him why Danny didn’t just move on from it a year after Jason’s disappearance. She asked him why he didn’t give it up. Danny nearly saw red, and nearly bit her head off for it. It was incomprehensible to him to just stop looking for Jason, to give up. Not when he was out in the zone somewhere. Because he had to be in the zone.)

(Danny once tried to take Jason through the portal with him, and much like what happened to Kitty, it didn’t work. Jason was too tied to the ghost zone to leave.)

(Some bonds are just unbreakable, he thinks. Bonds forged through blood and time and trust, and when you’re on the streets of Gotham, you hoard what little trust you have in someone like a dragon with its gold. It is scarcely given and fiercely kept.)

“I’ve been looking for him.” Danny whispers when talking becomes too hard for him, when it runs the risk of him crying. “When- when I’m not fighting ghosts or, or in school or with my friends, I’ve been looking for him.” He has explored the Ghost Zone in every reach he can. He has met so many people. He’s met the ghosts of aliens from planets in every corner of the galaxy. He has met gods or god-like beings and their disciples.

He’s met famous scholars and writers (he’s gotten the autographs of all of Jason’s favorite writers). He has found entire cities that have so much life in it that it's been permanently etched into the ghost zone, like a mirror version of itself.

He’s visited the ghostly vision of Gotham so many times, and he avoids the imprint of Wayne Manor like the plague. There are ghostly newspapers that he reads. There are the ghosts of Martha and Thomas Wayne in many of them.

Jason’s haunt connects to Wayne Manor, but it is also the street they grew up in. It is a small brick building with a door that leads to Jason’s room. A ghost knows when someone enters their haunt, it alerts them like a doorbell in the back of their mind. A foreign ecto-signature in a place drenched in your own.

Danny visits it every time he goes into the Ghost Zone. It’s always his first stop.

He tells his parents all of it. He tells them of the ghosts he’s met, of the places he’s seen. And when he feels brave, he tells them about Rath and the terror that his future self brings him. He keeps some details hidden, the ones that he can afford to keep without muddling up the story.

(Rath is a tall, spindly thing, like a funhouse mirror version of Danny himself. He has arms that are much too long and legs that are much too tall, with skinny fingers that extend into claws.He wears his suit the same as Danny does, with it partially undone and the sleeves wrapped around his waist.)

(There is a black hole in his chest that is much bigger than Danny’s own. It takes up his chest cavity and drips the same, viscous black liquid as the tears falling from his eyes. Danny never forgets his voice; a scraping, quiet thing like he’s screamed himself hoarse. Rath has a voice like goosebumps, and it haunts Danny like a bump in the night.)

Danny speaks and speaks and speaks until he can’t think of anything else to speak of. He is tired and sad, and it feels like his heart has been ripped out and rubbed raw again. And yet, he also feels so much better. Like a long heavy weight has been taken off his chest.

Yeah, last summer was hard. His parents walked on eggshells around him, and they forced themselves to unlearn their bias of ghosts. It was more than Danny could have ever dreamed of, and when they felt ready for it, they asked him more about the ghost zone.

He smiles sadly at his dad, “I think fixing the stove can be a priority another time, dad.” He says, watching him wilt and his smile fall. Jack Fenton was always so good at making himself look like a kicked puppy. “I can handle unpacking by myself, I promise.”

His parents still look so unsure, like they want to argue. Danny watches his mom purse her lips tightly, confliction running across her face like a datastream. She takes dad’s hand, squeezing their fingers together despite the droop in her shoulders.

“Oh, alright then, I suppose.” She relents, her hand placing on Jack’s arm. “I guess we could go, we’re just going to miss you so much, Danny.”

Tears seem to have won over his dad, and Jack Fenton sniffs back before he can cry properly. “Our little boy, all grown up.” He says, voice wobbling. It makes Danny laugh, and it makes his heart pang. His smile grows impossibly wider and so much fonder. “You’ve become such a kind, wonderful young man, Danno. We’re so proud of you.”

Danny laughs again, and it cracks. “You’re gonna make me cry, dad.” (He feels a welling of guilt in his gut that he ignores — he doesn’t feel like a kind man. He doesn’t feel like a good one either. Not with what he plans to do.)

His father holds out his arms in hopefulness, “One last hug for your old man before we head out?” He asks, mustering up a smile on his face.

Danny barrels into him, nearly knocking his dad over with an oomph. He’s as tall as him now, but he still feels little in his bear hugs. With arms wrapping around his middle, Danny hugs his father tight and breathes him in one last time.

“Careful there, Danno.” He laughs, patting Danny’s back roughly. “You’ll break my ribs with that ghostly strength of yours!” But he holds on just as tight.

Out of spite, Danny bends back and lifts him off his feet, laughing when Jack tenses up and nearly scrambles out of surprise. His mom laughs with him, stepping back to give them room for the few seconds that dad is in the air.

When it’s his mom’s turn, Danny has to hunch to hug her. Something bittersweet to him as she plants a kiss on his forehead and says that he’ll always be her baby. “Even if you do have that horrid smoking habit.” She adds on with a disapproving eyebrow raise.

Danny turns red in embarrassment, and walks them back to the GAV. Gothamites of all kinds slow to stop and boggle at the monstrous, road-illegal thing that is parallel-parked next to the curbside. In the past, Danny would have died with mortification to be seen with it. Now it just makes him laugh. Before he goes back into the apartment building, he buys a newspaper from a nearby convenience store.

The first thing he does when he gets back up to his room is one: make a mental note to buy a bicycle chain lock for the door. The locks jiggle and there are splinters along the side that show signs of it being broken into in the past. The second thing he does is pull his cigarettes out of his pocket and light one.

Danny starts to unpack with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, placing the newspaper he bought onto the counter. He has a cheap loveseat that he pushes off to the side, and he moves the boxes into the kitchen. It’s a matter of organization that Danny has to think about before he does anything.

It’s as he’s pushing the sofa up against the wall facing the windows that his phone rings a familiar tune: Sam. The phone is fished out before he can think about it and when he stares down at the screen, he realizes it's a facetime call.

He presses answer and walks over to prop his phone up onto the counter. The smiling faces of Sam and Tucker greet him, rather than just Sam. Immediately, Danny grins. “Hey Danny.” Sam greets, smiling a dark-painted lazy thing. From the background it looks like they’re in Tucker’s room. Sam is in Tucker’s desk chair, and Tucker is behind her, leaning against it. “Have you moved in yet?”

Danny pulls the cigarette from his mouth and huffs, a cloud of smoke following his breath. “Yeah! It’s a shithole.” He grins lopsidedly, and his feet carry him off to the side to allow Sam and Tucker view of his apartment. He lets thirty seconds pass, allowing the both of them to really see the rest of the room. And then he steps back into frame.

Sam and Tucker both look like they’re trying not to look judgemental, like they’re trying to hide a grimace that Danny sees anyway with the small turns at the corner of their mouths. He grins wider, mirth filling his lungs. “I know, it looks awful doesn’t it?”

“It’s— it’s not so bad.” Sam says with a strain in her voice, a forced smile on her face that tries to be reassuring. Tucker nods along readily, and he looks just as unsure as Sam does. Danny stifles laughter behind his teeth.

“No, no, it looks bad,” He takes a drag of his cigarette, shaking his head. “You can say it, I won’t get offended. It’s a fucking apartment in crime alley. Of course it looks bad.”

Sam remains silent, a rearing of her stubbornness showing itself. Tucker takes a different approach, and heaves a dramatic sigh of relief, slumping like a weight. “Okay, you’re right. It looks bad.” He frowns, “Sorry, man.”

While Danny snorts, Sam sighs. “Yeah, it looks bad. What even are those stains?” She asks, and both she and Tucker lean closer in tandem to the screen, eyes squinting at the floor behind him. Danny glances at the floor, and shrugs.

“Blood, probably.” He says, and while years in Amity Park have accustomed him to a clean environment, the desensitization of Gotham still remains. Tucker and Sam both make faces and lean away, as if the stain itself was capable of passing through to them. “Yeah, there are bullet holes in the walls.”

“Are you sure it’s safe to be there?” Tucker asks, a furrow appearing between his brows. He adjusts his glasses and leans against the chair. Sam is frowning heavily, and Danny can already see her thinking up of a new way to fix the problem.

“Oh, I never said this place was safe.” Danny tells him cheerily, taking a last hit of his cigarette before placing the dead stick onto the counter. He itches for another one. Instead he walks over to the shelf his parents brought in and starts moving it. “It’s Crime Alley, Tuck. Safe isn’t even in its vocabulary.”

Tucker and Sam look like they’ve both swallowed a lemon.

“But it’s where I want to be right now.” He says, grunting quietly when the shelf is against the wall he wants it to be, near the short hallway leading to the front door. He can push it in front of it if someone tries to break in. “And Crime Alley’s apartments are the only ones I can really afford right now without mooching off my parents, and I’d rather not depend on them.”

He can hear the disapproving hesitance from where he stands. And he ignores it.

Danny walks back into frame, lifting up a box onto the counter. He hums lightly, fingers run over the tape keeping it shut. “Why do you even want to be in Gotham, Danny?” Sam asks, and she sounds genuinely perplexed. Danny stills. “I thought this place only had bad memories for you.”

His blood turns cold, and like a dime being flipped his slow heartbeat fills his ears. “It does.” He replies automatically, before he can think. Shit, shit. He knows that Sam or Tucker would ask that question, and yet he still feels unprepared for it. His heart pulses quickly against his ribcage, knocking, asking him what he’s going to tell them that isn’t the truth.

Danny stammers, “I mean— I just— I guess I felt nostalgic.” He says, and it sounds like a weak defense. He looks away, finding himself instinctively scratching his jaw. A new tick of his when he’s nervous. From the corner of his eye, he sees Sam and Tucker both narrow their eyes at him.

He cannot tell them the real reason why he’s moved back to Gotham. He can’t tell them of the little secret and vow he told himself five years ago, the one that’s been left to fester and burn like an open wound close to his core. The one that, if he thinks too much about it, sends a searing hot electricity through him, filling him from crown to toe top-full of direst wrath.

(Danny was always the angrier one in the duo of Jason and Danny. He was always the one with glass in his mouth, cutting his teeth and tongue so that he could spit blood at the world around them. His knuckles had more blood and bruises on it than skin, once upon a time. All because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He has grown from it, that fury has turned to a small simmering candle.) (But sometimes, sometimes it rears its head, and electricity will buzz under Danny’s skin. There is lightning before the thunder, the second before a fist pulled to punch lands, the spark before it becomes a blaze.)

He stumbles over his words, and then sighs long and low, drooping his head. “I… was thinking that I can’t avoid this place forever.” He says, and the best lies always have the truth in it. Because it’s not a lie, not completely. But it’s not close enough to the truth either. “And that maybe if I came back, I’d be able to do something about those bad memories. Make them better or make it hurt less.”

Like wool over their eyes, it fools Sam and Tucker. Their narrowed eyes soften, and Danny feels like a snake is in his lungs as they both adopt their own versions of gentleness on their faces. “Oh, Danny.” Sam breathes out, and the snake squeezes, “Of course, we understand.”

Tucker nods, smiling at him. “Yeah, bro, that’s really brave of you. I know it can’t be easy coming back.” He says, “Maybe you can reconnect with the Waynes again, you always thought well of Mister Wayne whenever you came back from visiting.”

Danny smiles weakly, the gesture cutting into his cheeks like a knife. Perhaps he could. He was still upset with Bruce for hiding Jason’s killer from him. But he doesn’t hate him. Maybe five years ago, he did, when the death of Jason was still fresh in his mind and freshly bleeding in his heart. Now he just doesn’t know what to think of him. He was Batman. Jason was Robin, and the Joker killed Robin.

It would need to be something he’d have to speak to Bruce about in person, he thinks, in order to resolve it. To hear his judgment on it and make an opinion from there. Danny has learned in the last five years, much to Jazz’s smug delight, that talking to people about something he was upset about did make him feel better.

The conversation slips on from there into something more light, more breathable. And while they talk, Danny unpacks. He sets up his bed in the corner of the room, adjacent to the windows, and unpacks his cheap TV and table stand. It’s directly across from the couch, in front of the windows. He puts up knicks and knacks he’s collected over the years on the shelves.

When he puts up the curtains, he notices that more than one frame jiggles loosely. Sam makes a comment on the musty stains permanently dyed into the glass, and Danny talks about getting something to fix the cracks. Gotham winters can get brutal, and even if he can withstand the cold, doesn’t mean everything else in his apartment can.

“Oh, watch this.” He says halfway through unpacking, and pulls out a stick of thick white chalk from a box. “This is something I learned from Clockwork a while back; I think he knew I was going to move to Gotham.” He grins sillily, popping into the camera frame to show them. “I wonder how?”

Sam rolls her eyes, smiling while Tucker huffs. “It’s not like he’s the Master of Time and can see all past, present, and future.” Tucker snarks.

Danny hums lightly, curt like he isn’t sure he believes Tucker, and walks to a piece of bare wall not yet blocked by furniture. He starts to draw on it. The chalk shimmers with faint ectoplasm on the wall.

“Uhh…” Tucker’s voice cuts through, “Are you sure you should be doing that? Won’t you get in trouble for that?”

“There are bullet holes in the plaster, Tucker.” Danny retorts dryly, arching his hand to make a big circle. “I don’t think the landlord is gonna care if I get washable chalk on his walls.” Inside the circle, he inscribes the symbols of the Infinite Realms. “I don’t think he’d be able to see it anyways, he was really old.”

When he is done, Danny steps back to admire his work. It’s not bad, he thinks, for a lack of practice. He tosses the chalk off to the side, it lands on the couch and rolls back into the cushions. Ectoplasm heats under his hand, slowly glowing from his fingertips before stretching down the rest of his palm.

Danny’s fingers press against the wall, into the center of the circle. The result is immediate, ectoplasm is siphoned off his hand and into the circle. It glows, and then swirls. He steps off to the side for Sam and Tucker to watch its transformation. The circle fills with a swirling pool of ectoplasm, like a smaller version of the basement portal, and then it warps and stretches.

It fills out a rectangular shape, shifting like taffy being pulled this way and that, before settling into a solid shape. It solidifies, and instead of a wall there is a glowing purple door, warped in nature and seemingly shifting like a trick of the eyes. He can hear the gentle hum of the zone standing next to it, and can see the carving of the circle in the wood.

He gestures dramatically, grinning from ear to ear. “Ta-da~” He sings, “A door to my haunt! For whenever I feel like visiting it.” He pats the wood, making a strange thunk-thunk sound. “And then watch this.”

Danny touches the circle again, and the door twists and recedes like water going down a drain. The circle flashes bright green, and then fades into nothing on the wall, invisible to the naked eye. “I can hide it whenever I want! So if I ever invite someone over—” which he doubts, “—I won’t have to worry about them asking, ‘Hey Danny? Why is there a creepy fucking door in your studio apartment?’”

He gets a pair of laughs for his efforts, and Danny grins wider.

Sam and Tucker have to end the call when Danny is nearly done unpacking, leaving him alone with only his thoughts and the Gotham ambience outside. There were only a few boxes left, and they promise to call him tomorrow. He tells them that they better keep that promise.

The silence that follows after they leave feels somberly, as if the reality of moving in has finally set in and filled the air with its loneliness. With its change. Finally, Danny lets the strangeness of moving back to Gotham hit him when he reaches the last box, and he stops to take another smoke break to let it settle.

It feels so strange to be back in Gotham, he thinks. He’s all grown up, or almost grown up. He can vote and pay taxes, but he doesn’t feel much older than he was at fourteen. There’s a disconnect that makes him feel sad.

There are cars running outside, driving by. He can only catch glimpses of them, his apartment faces an alleyway. There are dogs barking in the distance, strays he bets. It’s already dark out, and he wonders if he looks out the window he would see the bat-signal shining through the night and staining the permanent cloud that hangs over Gotham.

Bruce would be so disappointed if he learned the reason for Danny’s return to Gotham. But Danny’s not here for him. He’s here for someone far more important. And like that, the simmering anger that has tucked itself into the furthest corners of his heart starts slipping through. His heart has teeth, ready to strike and snarl and bite.

He crushes the cigarette in his hand and throws it away. When he opens the last box, it is with hands that tremble and with a face of stone. With a delicateness he does not feel, he reaches in and pulls a corkboard from the box. On the corner frame is a small, near inconspicuous carving of another ghost rune.

Danny hangs it up on an empty space on the wall, out of sight from the window. It’s plain, and he has nothing to pin to it. He presses the small rune on the corner, pushing ectoplasm into it. Unlike the door, it does not twist and warp and shape itself into something new. Instead it bursts into green flame, eating away at the board and revealing the same thing underneath it, just in dark blue-black-purple.

Now this board, this board Danny has something to pin to it. The newspaper he bought earlier sits abandoned on the counter, and Danny unrolls it with something like viciousness in his chest. On the front page is an image of a damaged street, and above it is titled: “JOKER STRIKES AGAIN, 3 DEAD AND 27 INJURED”

Danny rips out the first page, he rips out every mention of him. His hands shake and threaten to crumple the paper as he turns back to the board, there is hot blood pounding in his ears. There is an impending sense of finally in his chest, like a setting sun giving the stage to a starless night. There is a stern set in his jaw, five years of festering rage rushing forth like a tidal wave, threatening to make his vision swim.

It would be so easy, he thinks, to go out as Phantom right now and hunt the clown down. It would only take a night. All it would take is a night, and then he could sink his hands into the Joker’s chest and rip out his heart where he stood. It would be so easy.

The thought alone forces Danny to stop as he is hit with another rush of fury, really making his head and vision swim. Thorny vines wrap around his throat, making it hard to breathe. He stares at a spot on the wall until the shaking passes.

If he wants to be discreet about this, then he can’t do it now. Even if he wants to. He doesn’t want witnesses. He doesn’t want an audience. He made a mistake, telling Red Hood about his plan. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking. Perhaps he wasn’t thinking at all. But he can only hope that the Hood hasn’t mentioned it to Bruce. He knows it hasn’t been long since they started working together. He hopes that the Hood has already forgotten about it.

He pins the newspaper clippings onto the black-blue-board, and stands back. It’s bare now, but it won’t be forever.

He presses the circle again, and the pinboard reverts back to its original blank state.

-----

Was I expecting to make a third part?? No. No I was not. I was also not expecting to make an entire google doc filled with summaries for short story ideas about this au that all tie into each other so that way if i DO continue this i have a skeleton pathway to follow rather than making everything up from scratch and potentially cornering myself

you can find this on ao3 or on tumblr 1 2 :)

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc crossover #childhood friends au #cw swearing #cw smoking #im calling them short stories bc if i call them chapters i might intimidate myself #fun fact every single chapter will have a crane wives lyric on it i am DETERMINED #i hope yall are subscribed to this on ao3 bc i almost didnt post this on tumblr #the fentons being good parents were a surprise to me too but also i never really planned on them being BAD parents #okay so they appear as negligent in the first post but we'll just call that a plothole #i had the idea that danny was the angrier one out of the duo earlier today and it felt like an epiphany #there's no guarantee of a next part but yk immm kinda hoping there is #on the docs the ending bullet point for this chapter was #'make it feel like a tv show where the seemingly inconspicuous and friendly character has something sinister up their sleeve'#WE know that danny's not inconspicuous in the least he's been thinking of this murder for the last five years. but nobody but red hood know #i had to come up with a in-story reason why danny doesnt kill the joker NOW but my out-of-story excuse is: there'd be no tension otherwise #its about the BUILD UP. Its about the RISING TENSION. Its about KNOWING that danny is planning to kill the Joker but you dont know WHEN #its about knowing that something is going to explode but never knowing when #i made the doc yesterday and spent my entire pluralism for educators class going thru the crane wives albums and looking up the lyrics and #matching them to the *checks doc* 18 short story prompts i have prepared #i am still missing one :((#its the tim and danny story and i have NOTHING PLANNED FOR THEM. i cant think of a thing for them to bond over :(( so i cant match a CW son #even DICK has a story and that was also a surprise #my favorite lines: He was always the one with glass in his mouth cutting his teeth and tongue so that he could spit blood at the world #aND danny slapping his door like a used car salesman and going 'now people wont ask why i have a creepy fucking door in my studio aptm :)'

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drbtinglecannon · 7 months

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I don't really like posting pics, but I recently got fleece lined leggings and a variety pack of fishnets to wear over them, and the green pair perfectly matches the lunar moths skirt I bought from @mayakern ! My necklace is also the same shade of green with blue accents, so my color coordination was off the charts today haha

#unfortunately the skirt is just a little too snug for my liking so I got a size up on my last order and that one fits great!#but I was very excited to realize I had something that matched these green fishnets. and my sister made me this necklace like a decade ago #so its awesome to finally have an entire outfit that matches it perfectly!#but anyway maya kern skirts are highly recommended they're comfortable and fun. I have 2 and I'm excited to wear them more often!#I've been wearing gym leggings for the last few years and I decided I want to start wearing shorts & jeans & skirts & dresses again #tc posts #I got that trenchcoat from a local artist it's the most expensive piece of clothing I've ever gotten but it's so worth it it's so badass #only reason I'm looking forward to colder weather: I can finally wear my trenchcoat again

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anna-scribbles · 2 months

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h-how do you ever finish any of your work? genuine question because you seem to be productive despite your agreste syndrome and I need to learn your ways. but also how do you ever finish any of your work

unclear. last night i stayed up and finished a report worth 25% of my grade at about 5am, arrived on time for my 9am lecture, and spent about half of it zoned out while thinking about seventeen year old emilie agreste. and i was one of the most active participants in the class discussion

#in some ways it IS the move to go to grad school right out of undergrad #because your body can still sort of operate like a college kid #i’m on about 3ish hours of sleep rn and this morning it felt SO over but now i’ve eaten something and we’re so back #i also don’t really do caffeine. except sometimes i’ll go get one of those panera death lemonades #i might be able to snag a short nap before work #but anyway about seventeen year old emilie. i was thinking abt how she was in that movie solitude and adrien said she was seventeen #WAIT. NO. HE SAID SHE WAS SEVENTEEN IN THAT PHOTO ON HIS DESKTOP NOT IN THE MOVIE #well. okay whatever i’m gonna tell you what i was thinking about anyway #OKAY i’m back i just checked the wikipedia page and then i watched the end of gorizilla. to make sure i’m not lying. because i’m normal.#anyway i was thinking about the solitude film and how it’s super rare and old and obscure and whatever. and how apparently #emilie wrote it herself and andre produced it #and i’m thinking about how gabe was discovered by audrey and that’s how he got his start in the fashion industry #so now i’m like?? did gabe and emilie first meet on the set of solitude? because gabe was designing costumes or whatever?#and that’s how audrey found him? have people already thought about this??#also i just checked and it doesn’t say emilie’s last name in the credits and also it’s ‘graham films’ with the twin rings logo m #so i’m assuming she’s still emilie graham de vanily at that point #anyway it comes back to seventeen year old emilie because i started imagining seventeen year old runaway emilie having her new life in pari #after escaping her british nobility life #and the first thing she does is write and star in an original movie. of course.#and she meets this repressed bisexual punk upstart costume designer who is so the opposite of everyone she’s ever known #and he’s immediately so unhealthily obsessed with her. which she appreciates.#and then they proceed to have the most toxic doomed evil relationship of all time #also she gets cheated because once gabe gets money he represses himself SO hard that he is now exactly like all the people emilie grew up w #but at least he’s still obsessed with her #this is what i was thinking about during class today. i don’t know how i get anything done either.#ml #anna rambles #asks

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taffywabbit · 3 months

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i just woke up so i haven't actually watched the pokemon direct thingy yet, but i heard they mentioned they aren't pushing out another console release at all for 2024 and if that's true then frankly THAT news is way more hype than any actual game announcement could ever be. go girl let us wait!! this is genuinely what i've been begging for for years now

like, oh a new Legends game? that's neat i guess. oh wait it's being given literally ANY time to cook and they aren't crunching Game Freak to hell and back in order to pump out a bunch of half-baked annual releases for the first time in ages?? NOW we're fuckin talking. LOVE to see the torturous cycle broken

#buny text #pokemon #granted they may have just delayed their plans simply because nintendo still isn't releasing a new console til pretty late in the year #and they cannot feasibly keep trying to squeeze things down into a format the switch can (barely) handle without losing goodwill #but i'd like to hope that this also proves they don't need to be pumping out 3 console titles and multiple DLCs in such short spans of time #i'd love to see what might happen if the pokemon devs were ever given the kind of long thorough dev cycles that the zelda team gets #like let gamefreak cook for as long as they need and release when they actually feel it's ready. please.#as frustrated as i am with how SV turned out the majority of my frustration was that you can still FEEL the devs' passion in there #but it's massively overshadowed by jank and lack of polish and design decisions that would only ever be made under intense time pressure #the last chunk of that game's story is cool as hell but getting there was such a depressing experience that it's very hard to recommend #these are clearly artists who still have good ideas and interesting experiences to create! give them the time they need to do it properly!

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bunnys-babies · 8 months

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Talk To You, pt. 2

Megumi Fushiguro x gn!reader

wc: 1.2k

pt. 2 / ?

warning(s): mentions of puke, mentions of taxidermy - so if any of that really icks you out tread lightly :)

a/n: it’s been a while, but if anyone recalls pt. 1 of this, it’s just a continuation 🥰 (feel free to read hehe) but it’s not necessarily required! Could be read as a stand alone :)) just a silly and nervous first date 🤍🤍 reblogs and comments are always appreciated!! I hope you enjoy :3 also, I am very behind on JJK, please do not spoil anything in the tags because I do see them! So if this is “canon divergent”, that’s why LMAO

pt. 1

He’s going to puke. He’s absolutely, 100%, sure of it.

He’s so sweaty that he’s certain he must stink, he hates his outfit, and why is his hair so frizzy? He knew he shouldn’t have listened to Kugisaki and let her “do him up”.

The bus seat vibrates beneath him and emits one of the most brain piercing rattles he thinks he’s ever heard as he impatiently waits for his stop.

Oh god, they aren’t gonna think I’m a loser for taking the bus, are they?

Sighing and picking at the cuticle along his thumb nail, he does his best to focus on keeping track of the colors of the cars passing by. What good would dwelling on your perception of him do when it’s only making him continue to profusely sweat anyways?

It’s been a week since he got your number. Well, since Yuuji got your number for him, sort of.

And over the course of that week, Megumi’s convinced himself he’s done nothing besides behave like a fool.

He’s spelt your name wrong, twice, and then wondered why he even felt the need to address you by name in text. He sent you a list of options for dates, listing location and expected cost, as well as sending them in order of “most to least active”. And then, when you surprisingly agreed and made a choice, he sent you a calendar invite.

Nothing about this even seemed remotely out of the ordinary to him until Kugisaki asked how you both ended up deciding on going through a “local, close up walkthrough” of a taxidermist’s home.

“Huh?” Her eyes widened and her mouth hung open after she spoke, eager, and a little scared, to hear Megumi’s response.

“Well, out of our options, it was the most cost effective and productive choice. Lots of conversation starters. They seemed pretty interested.”

Doubt and embarrassment began to knot his stomach at the lack of response from Kugisaki.

“What? They picked it. So clearly they wanted to go to this thing.”

Still no response.

“Right?”

Crickets.

“Kugisaki.”

Pressing her mouth into a thin line, she stops her relentless fidgeting over Megumi’s hair and clothes and crosses her arms over her chest instead.

“Fushiguro,”, she spoke slowly and softly, “couple questions. One, did you offer this idea? Two, if so, what were the other options?”

Something about the way she spoke only increased his anxiety.

Oh, he messed up.

Unfortunately, after explaining himself, there wasn’t any time left to get some sort of reassurance from her that he hadn’t completely fucked this all up.

And god, why did he have to approach this so… professionally?

He stopped himself from letting out a groan before the brakes squealed at an alarming volume as the bus came to a stop.

Muttering out a nearly silent thanks to the driver, he takes a step out onto the darkened sidewalk. It must have rained earlier.

It takes him about 20 minutes to locate and walk to the house, his shoes covered in a shine from the dew still fresh on the grass.

As he waits, part of him is wishing you just don’t show up. This has just all played out in the worst way, and he’d rather take the embarrassment of being stood up than being around you for an hour, possibly multiple, while you pretend he isn’t a freak and that you aren’t showing up out of anything but pity.

His stomach churns at the sound of a car door shutting, and he’s back to that god forbidden feeling like he’s going to hurl, when he hears a soft “Fushiguro?” being called out to him from his left.

A visibly strained smile is offered to you as Megumi turns to greet you.

God, you knew this sweater was too gaudy.

“How was the drive for yo-“

“Looks like it rain-“

Awkward laughs are exchanged at the sudden silence you both sit in after accidentally interrupting each other.

After, Megumi silently insists you continue to speak with a few hand gestures and nod of his head.

“Yeah, I was just gonna ask how the drive was for you! It rained pretty hard where I was coming from, and I swear my wipers were ready to fly off.”

Damnit.

“Oh, yeah, I didn’t drive.” He turned his body to face the front of the house, hoping his embarrassment was less visible from the side of his face.

“Oh nice idea, I hate driving in the rain. I totally should’ve considered that.” Turning to face the house yourself, you wait for him to take the first steps before walking forward.

A mixture of relief and bashfulness wash over him at your simple response and unexpected, but welcoming, flattery.

Nice idea.

Fighting back the small smile and pride swelling in his chest, he begins to walk forward, doing his best to strike conversation as you make your way to the front door despite the nagging stomach ache he’s gotten.

He’s never been so nervous before.

Kugisaki has no idea what she was talking about, this is going to be simply lovely.

—

The vomit covering the top of your shoes as you rub the spot between Megumi’s shoulder blades is staring at him. And if it could laugh and point it’d probably be doing that, too.

“You okay?” You speak so soft he almost doesn’t hear you ask.

No, he’s not okay.

He just blew chunks all over both of your shoes (and the eclectic man’s maroon carpet), vomited again at the smell, and then nearly tripped his way down the front steps as he continued to puke into the Taxidermist’s front lawn.

“Yeah, ‘m fine.”

Maybe it was a little more than just his nerves making him nauseous.

“Y’know, if I knew you were gonna get this freaked out over the ‘Pope Mouse’, I would’ve gone with the bird watching option instead.”

It takes him a minute to realize you’re joking. You’re actually joking with him and trying to salvage whatever this is.

Whether it was out of shock, sympathy at your mediocre attempt of a joke, or the image of that poor dead rat dressed up as the pope, he let out a low chuckle.

He kept his posture leaned over and his head down, waiting to make sure he truly was all done, when you realized your hand was still rubbing gentle circles into his upper back. Gingerly, you lifted your hand and placed it in your pocket, trying not to focus on the vomit on your shoes.

All things considered, you really were having a great time.

He’s strange, definitely a little shy, maybe even abrasive, not the best at conversation, has interesting ideas of fun, and literally threw up on your shoes, but he was such a sweetheart. It helped he was more than nice to look at sure, but his nervousness and slightly off-putting personality did nothing but attract you even more.

You’ve never been on a more eventful date, that’s for sure. And you’ve never met someone who clearly put so much thought into spending time with you, and his anxiety was more than obvious. Did he really like you that much?

Regardless, you thought he at least deserved another chance at a second date, one where you could actually get to know more about him other than the fact he might have a weak stomach.

“If you promise not to puke in my car, and help me clean off our shoes, we can try again. Probably somewhere we can sit and chat instead of stare at poorly done taxidermy.”

Unfortunately, before you could offer up any good ideas, he was back to busying himself with vomiting.

At least he’s really cute.

——————

taglist: @plutowrites @lunarsap @alonezz @softjaegerhours @onismikasa (if you’d like to be removed/added please let me know!)

#I have like 4 WIPs I’ve been working on over the last year and this isn’t even one of them LMAO #I started this today while I was at work and was not expecting THIS to be the piece I post after over a year HEHE #this is very short and silly but I needed to just post something instead of being scared of it again 😭#[jjk.ohmy!]#jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk fanfic #megumi x reader #megumi x you #megumi fluff #megumi imagine #fushiguro x reader #fushiguro x y/n #megumi x y/n #megumi fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x gender neutral reader

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