“Why am I not surprised you're from Gotham?” Tucker asked as he lined up his shot.

“You'd think it was my accent, but I bet it was my bike that gave it away, huh?” Johnny 13 responded, leaning on his club. Tucker snorted and then hit the ball, watching it soar through the air before it landed in front of the small windmill with its annoying creaking hinges.

“You call that a shot?!” Kitty asked loudly from her spot atop the dome keeping a group of teens contained. The eight other kids all went to Casper High and were a part of the wrestling team.

“Do I look like someone who plays white kid golf?!” Tucker shouted back.

“Putt Putt is not white kid golf!” Johnny whined.

“You're right – it's rich white kid golf!” Tucker snapped back.

Tim had to admit – this was one of the weirder ways to find out multiple cases spread out across the birds and bats were interconnected. Not the worst way, but definitely the weirdest.

“I didn't even think they were legit.” Duke said with a mix of hopelessness and dismay.

“I wouldn't have thought to connect some of these cases if not for those guys, so...go team?” Dick responded, equally as mystified.

“To be fair, missing bodies and missing persons is an easy connection to make. Combining those with grave robbing, identity theft, environmental dumping, and weapons running? It's no wonder we didn't notice how close out individual cases were getting until Signal brought the string connecting them to our attention.” Jason pointed out.

“The sheer amount of dumb luck...” Barbara said, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“It is impressive how it was incompetence that unmasked such a travesty.” Damian commented idly.

“I can already tell I'm going to love this debrief.” Bruce said as he came up from the part of the cave dedicated to their vehicles.

“Yeah, it's going to be awesome. Definitely not something we're going to have to bring up to the wider Justice League.” Tim said sarcastically. He was already mentally writing up the report they'd need to give about this fuckery. So much for taking Bernard out for his birthday; he'd better come up with a good apology gift.

“Joy.” Bruce deadpanned as he want to the changing area to start dismantling his gantlets to take his suit off.

“I'll go up and tell Alfie we're gonna be late for dinner.” Stephanie said and leap for the stairs, kicking off the back of the chair Cass was sitting on.

“Timothy, come check this – I think I found another shell company.” Damian announced from his place at the Batcomputer.

“Oh, c'mon, really? Why the fuck do government agencies do this? It's doesn't actually hide shit!” Tim complained as he set down the lab analysis of the water from Sprang River back where it went. Barbara would skin him if he fucked up her organizational system.

“Bet the shell is for the energy weapons.” Jason tossed out.

“Nah man, it's totally to pay off the officiants for the grave robing around the country.” Duke countered.

“Drugs.” Cassandra tossed out.

Tim looked over the paperwork Damian found, mentally cross referencing names, locations, account numbers, and time frames. It was definitely a shell company – the money leaving was flowing into one they already found. And the head of this company – judging by the paperwork, some kind of land evaluation company – was the same as the head of a third shell company.

“Yeah, this is another shell for the Ghost Investigation Ward. What's interesting is the date it was incorporated – we'll need to check if it was backdated digitally, but if not, this might be one of the first shells created. Good catch, Robin.” Tim said and he pretended not to notice when Damian's shoulders pulled back a little in pride. Damian was still prickly when perceived.

Sam looked down at her phone, scrolling through the photos sent to her of Gotham Baby Boy. The kid was super cute and Danny was stuck spending time with the little squirt as they were both still in state custody while Jazz was on a plane and their parents were out of contact. Which was totally code for them still being with the State Department on some military base showing off their more normal weapons which was just typical of them, really.

Not sure how many times I can tell my dad that my girlfriend is vegan before it sinks in. 😑 FFS, even I wasn't this bad when you started your diet and I was 12! Tucker texted. 

I feel like that might have been an attempt at a sex joke??? 🤔 She sent back. 

YOU ARE KILLING YOUR BOYFRIEND, SAM!

2 for 2 😇

S A M 😱 

😘😘

But seriously, my dad wants to know what to make you for the bbq bc just a salad isn't enough for a Foley Backyard. 

Tell him if he lets me take you away for 2 hrs that would be good enough 😏

I don't want to DIE so no. 😇 

She snorted and flopped back onto her bed, thinking about what she could actually suggest for the upcoming weekend get together.

Fine, spoilsport. 😛 Give me a moment to think. 

👍 I gave the suggestion of veggie kabobs since we have just SO MUCH eggplant. And I'm trying this eggplant dish that I want you to tell me if you like it so that will be A Surprise. So if you have anything else, hit me. 

She smiled at the message, holding the phone to her chest as she let affection bubble inside her. She loved it when Tucker experimented with dishes for her, even if she ended up not liking them. Out of the two of her boys, Tucker was the one who cooked while Danny was the one who gave her priceless scrolls, tomes, or books of magic or Gothic horror. She was spoiled by them, truly.

And now, my take. This will eventually end up on my AO3, probably later in the week after I read through it a few more times and do some more editing. (So, if you spot any spelling errors or the like, feel free to point them out to me in the comments so I can fix them before it hits Ao3.)

(TRIGGER WARNINGS: there is mention of a dead goat and said goat's decapitated head. It's not a major thing and it in the beginning)

---------

The first time Danny was summoned was after Pariah Dark was locked back into his personal time out coffin. At the time, he hadn't made that connection. (In his defense, he was confused as to what was going on, where he was, and why his skin felt simultaneously too tight and too loose. It was a supremely uncomfortable feeling on top of a whole lot of confusing information.

The first time led to a fight, because Danny's life was an actual shitshow, he swears to any god listening. The people who summoned him were seriously fucked up dudes with actual glowing runes on the floor, blood splattered everywhere, and there was a decapitated goat head involved. He didn't even give them the chance to finish their villainous monologue, just started throwing hands because what the actual fuck.

He fought the dudes (villains? Cultists? Magicians? Who even knew), buried the goat head out of guilt, and flew back home. (FROM MEXICO! It took him hours!!) Jazz grounded him for not stopping to call her once he was out of the danger and realized what country he was in and he didn't think much more about it. Except for the poor goat; he thought about the goat sometimes and was very happy he never had nightmares about the poor thing. What the actual fuck even was that?)

Welcome to Black Spring, the seemingly picturesque Hudson Valley town haunted by the Black Rock Witch, a seventeenth-century woman whose eyes and mouth are sewn shut. Muzzled, she walks the streets and enters homes at will. She stands next to children's beds for nights on end. Everybody knows that her eyes may never be opened or the consequences will be too terrible to bear. The elders of Black Spring have virtually quarantined the town by using high-tech surveillance to prevent their curse from spreading. Frustrated by being kept in lockdown, the town's teenagers, decide to break their strict regulations and go viral with the haunting. But, in so doing, they send the town spiraling into dark, medieval practices of the distant past.

The ghost is absolutely where the horror elements come in, in case you were wondering, but there is also the more banal “humans are the real monsters” horror as well, which make for a really good, lived in place. The ghost is a corporal entity that haunts this town and has been since she was tried and found guilty of witchcraft. And since that was a few centuries ago, the people of Black Spring have become used to her presence which makes for some really funny black humor at times as well – things like our main family dealing with “their guest” by leaving her in the living room with a dishtowel over her head because, even with her eyes sewn shut, you know she's looking at you. And it creeps you out.

Or like the fact that there's a local app used to report where the witch is at all times because, naturally, you'd like to know if the witch is going to be in front of the pasta at the local market before you make the decision to make some for dinner.

I also really enjoyed the way that as the story progressed, the main family seems more like actual people with flaws and not just the typical horror family that doesn't deserve this shit, they're so pure and wholesome. This family argues about petty shit, they have a middle and high school-er who act like preteens and teenagers, respectively. The parents have favorite kids but they love both of their children as much as they can. They have a dog, who is important to the story but I am sorry to say does not live to the end. T.T

I also really enjoyed the ending and I'm intrigued to know that the Dutch version has a different ending. I wonder if it's happier? Bc this ending is a bummer for our main family and I loved that, it felt earned.

Though the one con for this, other than the dog doesn't live, is that this author has a weird Islamophobia thing going on that would pop up sometimes like the Witch herself appearing in someone's kitchen. It's mild and might be a comment on Americans and Islam but I did notice it and it was weird. Esp since it would just appear sometimes in a very “oh, you don't realize that's hella racist, do you?” way and it was jarring. I still can't quite put my finger on if that's the author's bias coming out or if it was supposed to read as the character's biases, but I noticed and it felt weird.

But this book? 8/10

So I got a comment on a fic of mine recently that is as follows:

cammy898 left the following comment on A Lonely Oath:

Theres no way he would think of fucking yunmeng, the sect of the man that lead siege, as an alternative.

And, being who I am, I had to respond in the most bitchy way possible. I treated them like the preteen they sound like and also verbally beat them over the head with what the fic was actually saying as if I was back teaching middle schoolers. It's kind of hilarious so here it is, for anyone interested. 

It's long as fuck so it's going beneath a cut. But enjoy the take down!

Dear A-Yao,

This was going to be a response to your last missive but then I came across Wangji and a small group of junior disciples and I'm so confused, A-Yao. I'm so hurt and angry and scared on top of it all.

Yes, I'm scared. Not of da-ge, heaven's forbid! Even as he is now – dead and in pieces, like a child's broken toy. Wangji was having difficulties subduing him but he heard me. It might be prideful but that's what I believe. And here, in this letter I will never send, I can put that thought down.

A-Yao, you seem to have a lot of dead brothers. I've never thought of it as anything other than a tragedy but...it is a lot, A-Yao. Jin Zixuan, Mo Xuanyu, Nie Mingjue. I know you said Mo-gongzi was...disturbed, to put it lightly, but did you know he was in so much pain he ripped himself to shreds? Not just shattered or eroded, but purposefully shredded his very soul and karma to use that power to pull Wei Wuxian into his body in a summoning spell so vile and powerful that if it had failed the backlash would have shaken even Lotus Pier.

I am only thankful he called Wei-gongzi and not someone or something worse. He could have called Wen Ruohan or Yanling Daoren or some horrific demon – a real one, not just Wei-gongzi pushed into a corner like a hunted fox.

I don't want to believe them, A-Yao. Isn't that sad? They provided evidence and while it isn't anything as damnable as seeing you with their own eyes or having a missive in your own hand, I've killed people on less solid basis. Once upon a time, this was the exact type of evidence used to condemn Wei Wuxian and his Wen. It was the kind that condemned the Tingshan He and the Xiaoguan Zou.

I have believed this exact type of evidence in the past and it has almost always led to such horror. I would love to say that is why I am being cautious now, but even in this kind of letter, I cannot lie to myself that much.

The truth is much simpler. Much more selfish.

I love you, A-Yao. Not like I love Wangji or the way I love A-Jue, even now. But I love you and don't want to believe that I don't know you. That it was I, not Wangji, that loved a lie and an illusion.

You wouldn't do the things they say you have. I know it.

It's not true.

Tell me it's not true.

It has taken many years for him to accept this about himself and it had taken his marriage to Wei Ying to fully be comfortable with this fact. As a young man, he feared what his possessive nature would drive him to; feared his desires turning him from the right path like resentful energy corrupts a dead animal or plant into a yao or a steep hill encouraged a mudslide.

It took losing Wei Ying – first to exile from the wider cultivation world, then to death – for him to realize that just because he was possessive by nature did not mean he was without the will to control his actions. His wants did not become his deeds. He was not his father, who saw things he wanted and took them until he destroyed them.

He loves Wei Ying with passion and ardor but would never want to seriously possess him forever. He would never want to lock him away like a prized bird, to be seen and touched but never free; never want to forbid him from teaching, from traveling, from having friends and other people in his life; never want to shackle him to Cloud Recesses and loose the key.

It was a comfort to know that he could hold Wei Ying close and pant such hideous wants into his neck and hear Wei Ying play along with them – either protesting verbally while his body urged Lan Wangji on or agreeing so energetically it passed into the realm of absurdity and fantasy. It was a comfort to know that Wei Ying loved being marked up, loved it when their lovemaking left visible evidence behind for him to have as a reminder he could carry into meetings and classes, even if no one but him saw them. It was freeing to know that Wei Ying, when he left for night hunts or longer travels while Lan Wangji wrapped up any remaining duties he had before joining him, often referred to Lan Wangji as his husband openly.

All of this is to say, he understands why under most circumstances, the current situation he was in would be...uncomfortable. Under different circumstances, a student of Wei Ying's coming to challenge him for Wei Ying's hand and declaring that they had a “long standing and everlasting love” for his husband would be most upsetting.

As it was, the student in question was maybe all of five years old and had mispronounced “everlasting” in his declaration. He was also pointing a short stick at Lan Wangji in lieu of a sword (though, upon looking at it more closely, perhaps it was more of a medium stick, since it seemed to be almost as long as the boy's arm) and he had been led here by Wei Ying himself.

Wei Ying, who was looking down at the boy with such open affection that it was like looking back in time, when it was another little boy holding Wei Ying's hand. Lan Wangji himself wasn't immune to the charm of the small child, who was puffed up in offense as he near shouted his challenge and his little face scrunched up in a scowl that looked remarkably like Lan Yuan's did when he was much younger and had to stay inside during winter, even though all his friends got to play outside in a snow covered training field.

He's not sure what to do in this situation, if he's being honest. Playing along seemed like the obvious choice but he remembers being very small and very serious once. He thinks he would have preferred being taken more seriously as a child, at least for the things that actually mattered. But how seriously was he to take this? Obviously, he wouldn't be dueling a child but he equally didn't want to dismiss the young boy with a standard challenges are only accepted between equals as that would undoubtedly hurt the boy's feelings and possibly his self esteem.

Perhaps a middle approach?

“I can see you are very serious about this, Lan Bin.” Lan Wangji says and makes the decision to remain standing, rather than try to get on the boy's level. “I am sorry to have given you reason to think my husband is unhappy with me.” He continues.

The stick being pointed at him wobbles as Lan Bin's arm strains to keep it aloft.

“Teacher Wei is always happy and he likes cats and music.” Lan Bin says in response and Lan Wangji has never been more thankful for the way he was born than right now, because he knows his face isn't showing any bit of the heartwarming fondness he feels from that declaration.

“He does like cats and music, very much so. He also enjoys the color red.” Lan Wangji says and Lan Bin's whole face lights up.

“He showed us a red frog last class! It was so big and not at all smelly or slimy and it had little eyes!” Lan Bin says loudly while waving the stick around. Wei Ying laughs as he reaches out to take the stick from his student, quickly reaching out to bop Lan Bin's nose with a finger.

“Careful with that, you could hit someone with this if you wave it around like that.” Wei Ying says and Lan Bin apologizes immediately, bowing to his teacher with only a few incorrect gestures – he curled his fingers inwards and didn't bend his back, which were small inconsistencies easily corrected through time and practice.

“Perhaps Lan Bin would like to take lunch with me and we can discuss how much he likes his teacher?” Lan Wangji says, walking forward to hold his hand out for Lan Bin to take. Wei Ying makes a high pitched noise, his hand going to his chest, while Lan Bin stares at the offered hand suspiciously.

“A-Die says that being married is wanting to be with a person all the time and loving them lots and lots and I love Teacher Wei lots and lots and he's my favorite person.” Lan Bin says as he takes Lan Wangji's hand in his own.

“That is true.” Lan Wangji says, looking up to smile at his husband. “Wei Ying is my favorite person and I never tire of his company.”

Wei Ying wails, covering his face, and complaining about sincere Lans who were out to kill him with their words.

“I guess you can stay married then.” Lan Bin says with a pout as they start off towards the main common areas.

“I thank you very much for your blessing.” Lan Wangji says, completely seriously.

So, when I was in Middle School, there was a teacher we're going to call Mr. M. He was a stout, balding man in maybe his early forties or perhaps his late thirties. He had a beer pot belly and seemed to always be bathed in either axe body spray or something equivalent. He taught computer science and wood working.

Yes, having a class titled “computer science” dates me – for those of you younger than me, that class was a basic “how to computer work” course where we learned things like typing without looking at the keyboard, what MS Paint is and how to use it, how to set up a printer, how to make power points with Microsoft software, and how to use the ~internet~ to research things. Wood working was also called “shop” and was what it says – you learned how to make things with wood and power tools. Not saws or anything with a blade, mostly just nails, screws, and hammers, but even that came with a BOOK of permission slips that had to be signed before you were allowed in the class.

For those of you not familiar with American school ages, middle school for us is usually the grades 6 through 8; though depending on the district it can also be grades 7 and 8 only. In my case, this middle school was only grades 7 and 8, which is ages 12 and 13; depending on birthdays and individual schooling choices, we could have children as young as 11 and children that just turned 14 in my middle school as well.

Please keep in mind that the children I am talking about are at the oldest just 14 and the youngest 11, almost 12.