#Waylon was just trying his best
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"Look, Harley." Killer Croc began, bent over the table to fit in his chair yet still managing to tower over Harley. "You're a fun gal an all, but I don't want you around my niece. Especially with all she's gone through recently."
Killer Croc held up a hand, stopping Harley Quinn from speaking as he continued. "She doesn't need your brand of craziness in her life right now-or ever, I would feel like. However." Killer Croc sighed through his nose, lowering his hands onto the table and looking far more vulnerable than he usually would be. "She needs a lot more than I could ever give her and you-" Killer Croc gestured toward her."-As much as I would love you to stop interacting, you can give her what she needs and what I can't."
"Just, please. Keep her safe when I'm not around. Will ya?"
"Aww, course I will Crocy!" Harley Quinn gave one of her signature smiles as she leaned back in her chair and stretched. "Woulda done that anyway even if you didn't do this whole shovel talk." She leaned forwards to boop him on the nose.
Killer Croc sighed again, and in that moment all of the vulnerability he showed closed back up. Leaving behind the symbol that many feared from the sewers. "Good." He nodded his head and scowled lightly as he crossed his arms. "And keep her away from those bats, I don't need anymore problems for her, alright?"
Harley Quinn shrugged. "That, I can't promise. But I'll try at the very least."
Killer Croc sighed for the third time. "That's the best I'm going to get, so thank you."
"Uncle Waylon!" A feminine voice said, drawing the attention of everyone present. Waylon and Harley smiled as the owner of the voice sat down beside them. "Jazzy!" Harley grabbed the girl's hands in her own and beamed. "Glad you could make it!"
"Your uncle and I," Harley gave Waylon a wink. "Had a little talk while we waited, and we wanted to know when you wanted to go shopping to spruce up that room of yours."
In the background, everyone else present sweat dropped as they watched two of Gotham's most infamous individuals talking to a civilian girl about shopping.
#dc x dp#dp x dc#dpxdc#dp x dc crossover#dc x dp crossover#dcxdp#Jack and Waylon are brothers#Jazz is Waylon's niece#Jazz is friends with Harley#Why is Jazz in Gotham?#Idk#I was thinking something about Jack Maddie and Danny being offed#Or#Something#But I can't say 100%
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TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN PT.2—matt ver.
foreword: please read the first part linked here for this to make any sense! i mean technically u could read it as a stand alone but it’s best read with part one 😇
warnings: nice little makeout sesh, fingering, love bites, praise, lots of praise, erm insert more warnings here
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“i pick… matt.” you spoke.
matt’s eyes widened, but only for a moment. you suddenly felt like a fool, he was one of your best friends, you’d known him forever.
but at the same time, this had been a long time coming. it was going to happen sooner or later, right?
nate’s voice brought you out of your thoughts.
“i was not expecting that! i think this game has been my best idea ever so far.”
you rolled your eyes playfully, “don’t get so ahead of yourself, this game is still stupid. but i will admit that it has been funny.” you turned to matt again, his face unreadable and it made you nervous.
“so uh, which room are we even going in?” matt’s eyes averted from yours. oh god, is he going to let you down gently? was his hand on your thigh just a friendly pat and you’d read into it too much because you wanted him to touch you just once?
you’d simply die if that was the case. was it too late to choose waylon?
nate pointed towards upstairs. oh god.
“pick any room. well maybe not mine, i still have to sleep in it tonight.” nate winked, causing a few of the others to laugh.
“cmon, we’ll only be up there for ten minutes. don’t be ridiculous.” matt shrugged off his friend’s suggestive comment and stood from his chair, signalling you to stand too.
‘we’ll only be up there for ten minutes’. you wondered what you’d get up to if you had longer.
you followed matt up the stairs into what looked like a spare room, and he shut the door.
“nate has really outdone himself this time, don’t you think?” matt asked, as if he was putting himself off of an inevitable and awkward conversation.
“yeah… it almost makes me scared to think he’ll try to one-up this next time.” you responded. now that you were up here alone, you were realising the errors of your ways and you desperately wished that ten minutes would be over as quick as it started.
“listen, y/n. we’ve been friends for a long time now, so i understand if you want to just sit here and wait out the ten minutes.” he explained.
the way he worded it made it seem like he didn’t want to just sit here, but he was okay with it if you were.
surely not…
“we could do that,” you began, mentally noting that his face dropped ever so slightly, “or maybe we could… never mind.” you realised half way through your reply that you couldn’t bear to hear yourself say the words to him.
but matt wasn’t going to let that happen, not now, knowing that maybe what he was feeling was reciprocated.
“we could what?” he stepped closer to you, the room feeling smaller than it was when you first walked in.
“it doesn’t matter, it was stupid.” your breath hitched in your throat, he was getting closer and closer to you until there was barely any space left between you.
“tell me. i just want to hear you say it, once.” matt’s hand came up to rest on the side of your neck, the hand that was adding pressure to your thigh not long ago.
“i mean, it’s just a game, right? so we could… just…” you trailed off as his lips came into contact with yours. it was a soft, slow kiss, that melted your brain into mush.
“this isn’t just a game to me.” he spoke before reconnecting his lips to yours. soft and slow was no longer how your kiss could be described. no, this time it was desperate, charged, with clanging teeth and roaming hands.
you couldn’t believe one silly card game could put you in such a position.
matt walked you to the edge of the bed, sitting both of you down and placing his hand back on your thigh. you pressed them together, trying to distract yourself from the arousal that was no doubt pooling underneath your skirt.
pulling away from you, he mumbled, “i was hoping you felt the same way.”
the needy expression on your face was more than enough of an indicator, but if there was any doubt in his mind, it was instantly quelled when you took his hand and let him touch the dampness of your underwear. he sighed with want, dragging his fingers along the wet spot.
“please, we don’t have long.” you pleaded, and who was he to deny you?
tugging the waistband of your panties down your legs, he admired the glistening of your pussy, begging to be touched.
“so pretty.” a single finger swiped at your core, and you let out a short breath.
matt slowly increased his pace, stroking up and down at your leaking cunt, as if mesmerised by it.
truth be told, he couldn’t believe such a thing was happening. he’d had only the smallest of feelings for you when you were younger, but they had quickly blossomed into something much more, or rather they had torpedoed into a carnal desire for you once you had traded hoodies for tube tops.
he couldn’t control his urges for you any more than you could.
“matt,” you pleaded again, aching for more, “please.”
matt could cum solely from the sounds escaping your throat alone, but he had decided to use his ten minutes to make you feel good rather than himself.
using his fingers already coated in your slick, he pushed them inside you. the moan you let out had surprised the both of you, and you quickly covered your mouth with your hand, letting your other stabilise yourself on his shoulder.
“keep quiet, you don’t want everyone downstairs to hear, do you?” he spoke softly, and you weren’t sure if he actually wanted an answer to his question, though you weren’t in any position to answer. you were too focused on muffling your moans with your hand.
just like he had done downstairs, matt attached his lips to your neck, leaving another bite next to the other, this one darker than the first.
he pulled his head back to admire his work.
“i’d love to cover you in these,” he continued thrusting his fingers into you, “they suit you.”
you felt a twang in your stomach.
“you, fuck, you should leave them in places where no one can see but you.” you panted, struggling to speak without whining expletives.
“yeah? you want that?” matt glanced down at where his hand connected with your pussy, and used his thumb to touch your clit.
“ohhh fuck, yes i want that, keep doing that.” you felt yourself already slipping over the edge, getting closer and closer to sweet release.
“knock knock!” nate’s voice taunted from outside the room as he thudded on the door, “times up!”
you instantly felt embarrassed. did he hear all of that?
“i guess we weren’t quick enough.” matt pulled his fingers out of you.
“yeah i guess no-” your words were cut short by matt sticking the fingers that were just inside of you, into your mouth.
“clean my fingers for me, would you? i got them all messy.” he smirked at the implications of his words.
you did as you were told and licked your own arousal off his hand, feeling your cunt clench.
“there’s a good girl.”
straightening yourself out, you opened the door to a beaming nate.
“so? did you keep my sheets clean?” he asked.
“shut up, dude. we didn’t even do anything.” matt denied, walking past nate and back downstairs with you to the others.
nate followed behind, “then how come y/n has another hickey?”
like a deer in headlights, you stopped in your tracks.
“no comment.”
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a/n oh my god this is so so so ass. this is what i get for getting drunk instead of updating and having to rush writing this bc everyone’s waiting.
regardless, i hope it was worth the wait! now all i have to do is write the whole chris chapter and pray it doesn’t come out as terribly as this
bye….
© APCYLPTC 2023. do not repost, translate, or duplicate any of my works here or any other websites.
#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#sturniolo triplets#the sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo oneshot#matt sturniolo smut#matthew sturniolo#chris sturniolo imagine#chris sturniolo x reader#christopher sturniolo#nick sturniolo#chris sturniolo oneshot#chris sturniolo smut
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People who complain that Bruce Wayne is a bad person cause he "doesn't do enough" are so annoying fr.
"He just dresses up and punches mentally ill people" yeah and sends them to a facility to help them (of which many HAVE gotten better [see Waylon Jones]). A facility that has had the corruption ripped from the roots up purely for the sake of helping his own enemies. No matter how many times they break out and try to kill him, he sends them back to be rehabilitated. He only fights them because they have ice rays and mind control and all that. But even in fighting them, he usually only goes all out on the clown. He canonically tries to be soft with Harley and even temporarily gave her a job.
"He doesn't do anything with his money" bitch?? What do you think Wayne Enterprises does?? What do you think the Jason Todd Foundation is??? Why do you think he's poured his money several times into fixing Arkham Asylum??? Like bro there's literally an entire cult of other billionaires who unironically spend their time and money dismantling Bruce's efforts. He's doing the best he can with what he's got.
"He brings children into his war" Dick, Jason, Barbara, Harper, Stephanie, Duke, and Lance all either did or tried to do vigilante work without Bruce's help. Other characters like Tim and Damian refused to accept a no. He instead gave these kids a support network to do vigilante work safer and more efficiently and have them people to call family.
"The kids die or get hurt" Jason died after being betrayed by his own mother, Stephanie "died" after directly going against his orders, Tim was blown up by drones controlled by Steph's dad, Barbara was paralyzed in an attempt to upset her father, and Lance died after taking the costume and getting shot all without Bruce's knowledge (hence why it's important he takes the kids under his wing).
"He doesn't affect crime rates" in Gotham maybe, but see the Court of Owls mentioned above. He works with the JLA and JSA to take down crime all across the world and galaxy. He founded Batman Inc, a network of Batman ripoffs across the world who keep in touch, use each other's resources, and get backup from each other to fight crime in their corners of the world.
Hell, even "he's a bad father" is just bad writing. He's actually a very caring father, even if he does maybe struggle. He gave Jason his own damn library and he allows Damian to keep a whole army of weird pets (including a literal demon). He took Damian in upon learning about his existence, allowed him to express himself as Robin, sent him to school, taught him morals and compassion, and LITERALLY WENT TO HELL TO RETRIEVE HIS SOUL WHEN HE DIED. He took in Cass despite knowing Shiva would retaliate. He taught her to speak and he encouraged her to learn ballet. He even officially adopted Dick, Jason, and Tim in 3 separate emotional moments. And also bro literally adopted a piece of an alien hivemind (Jarro best Robin).
Like he was raised by Alfred-motherfucking-Pennyworth. There was never a chance he would turn out as corrupt.
#bruce wayne#batfam#batfamily#batkids#batman#jason todd#dick grayson#cassandra cain#tim drake#damian wayne#PLUS in earth 2 he had Helena and she loved her father#batman incorporated#batman fandom
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Disappointed Grace Chasity didn't turn out to be the Hatchetfield asexual rep we needed?
Well LOOK NO FURTHER, as I have come to a conclusion you may just like.
Richard Lipschitz. Anime nerd. Geek. Richie. Yeah, he's Asexual. I'm not Aromantic myself, so I can't quite tell you if he is or not (Personally I don't think he is), but he's totally ace.
As a small potential hint, when Steph comes asking for where Peter is, Ruth says that she's a temptress and that they'll "find new objects for their sexual desires." Richie just nods along to that statement awkwardly. While it could just be used to showcase her bisexuality, that would usually be a line said by a teenage boy, in my own personal experience at least.
The REAL best example is him talking with Peter at the Old Waylon Place while setting up, in which he mentions how Ruth came over just for Peter, and sounded so disgusted mentioning how "fucking thirsty" she is. He then tells Peter he could just "Hit it and Quit It bro," which is the main reason I'm making this post. Jon's delivery. Jon's FUCKING delivery. Though he could just be an awkward nerd trying to sound cool, it's like looking into a mirror seeing little nerdy Mack attempt to relate to her sexual friends through jokes. There's also the question of why if Ruth is so thirsty constantly he wouldn't just "hit it and quit it" himself. While all of his friends are shockingly horny (Peter and Steph are just as bad as Ruth, just watch them in Abstinence Camp) Richie seems like the ONLY one of the Nerdy Prudes with no interest in sex whatsoever. He just wants to make some friends.
So yeah, MAYBE it's just me projecting, but I think Richie is the Nerdy Prude's ace rep that we all need.
#richie lipschitz#richard lipschitz#headcanons#headcanon#npmd#npmd spoilers#hatchetfield#nightmare time#starkid#ace headcanons#asexual
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okay i don't know if the hyperfixation will hold long enough for me to actually write this but au where everything is the same but the waylon house is just a bit more structurally sound. max doesn't die and is like 'thanks for this guys, is that the whole party or?' and everyone just sort of looks at each other like. well we don't want to anger him so what can we say but yes. and so the nerds and max end up hanging out for a night in the waylon house and the worst thing that happens is grace chastity is tempted to have a beer for the first time (she doesn't though. but with max offering it's very hard for her to refuse. or focus lol) max keeps giving them weird backhanded compliments like 'wow you guys are way cooler than you look, how'd that happen' which is not the best but it's way better than being beat up for daring to be in his line of sight, so they'll take it.
so they all hang out for the night, max is like weirdly chill and friendly, eventually he leaves and they're left standing outside the waylon house like. ?? what the fuck??? did we just befriend max jagerman???? the nerds are still apprehensive considering pete still has a black eye, grace is still boiling with religious zeal and repressed lust, and steph still doesn't really like him, but they can't help but remember how he said that trying to prank him was the nicest thing someone's ever done for him. and that just can't be true, considering he's literally the star quarterback and the main character of hatchetfield high, but.... the fact that he felt like it enough says a lot, doesn't it?
so they decide to leave the prank footage to gather dust and figure this was probably the best outcome they could have hoped for. who knows what they'll walk into at school tomorrow? maybe max will become a friend.
#and he does :)#nerdy prudes must die#npmd spoilers#npmd#i just. the brainworms. they're in me#if anything it would just be a oneshot i'm not trying to rewrite the show or anything#but like yeah max joins the friend group :)#do you ever think about how genuinely touched he was that they basically made him his own haunted house?#that shit was exposure therapy and they didn't even know it#and like dear god 'this is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me'??? lines to go crazy about forever!!!!#bc like he's popular he's a star everyone knows him but no one's nice to him? do we know anything about his family?#and like obviously he's an asshole so like yeah why would people be nice to him if he's such a dick#but like.... consider this: babygirl#he was really endearing in that minute between being pranked and dying ok?#he was like a totally different person the minute the social pressure was gone#ok ok enough tag rambling. if enough people want this i will actually write it#*speaks
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Hey guys
I have present for you
Not sure if there will be a WIP Wednesday this week since I’m con crunching and we leave on Thursday, soooo… this will tide you over I’m sure! The completed chapter 15!
Previous Chapter:
First chapter and AO3 link:
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I’ll Take The Highway
Time was almost slipping away too quickly in the milkshake bar, and Danny wished he didn’t have to keep an eye on it.
(Well. Seriously hoped. Even in the privacy of his head, he couldn’t make it a wish.)
He had to get Tucker back to MIT though, and back to Gotham in a reasonable time frame to get to bed before class tomorrow.
If he got to bed before midnight, there might be a chance for he and Jason to run to the Far Frozen in the morning. Or after, Danny’s classes didn’t run late. Or…
He was missing out on the fun today, trying to plan tomorrow. Much as Jazz would love him being more organised, he pushed it to the back of his mind.
They’d visit Frostbite soon. And find out how Jason’s core was, though Danny was beginning to think he knew. Here, when Jason was happy and relaxed? Not tensed, shut down, or angry?
Danny could definitely feel something he hadn’t before. Not exactly the same as another ghost, or any of the other halfas, not yet.
But it was almost like Box Lunch’s fresh core seen through a house of mirrors.
Maybe that was what had him so close to the edge today? It was taking some pretty serious effort not to react to even the mention of an old threat to Jason.
Jason, the sweet baby ghost.
And if his smile was a little sappy at that thought, well, that was no one’s business but his own. At least he had something to sit on for when his rogues started embarrassing baby stories.
Finally he couldn’t put it off anymore. Too much to do, friends to fly across country, and he still hadn’t found a good way to ask Waylon his question. He just… well.
He’d given Jason all the server info, the stuff about who his rogues were, how he beat them, the things they’d learned about the Infinite Realms. They’d even shared some stories around different bits.
That didn’t exactly explain what he wanted to ask Waylon about. And it really wasn’t something he was comfortable sharing just yet, even if he already knew it was dumb.
Jason was a good guy. Who hung out with Batman, who was apparently an asshole. He wouldn’t judge Danny for having some dark and fucked up stories in all the zany ones.
Fuck, maybe Waylon could tell him how Jason would react. It was gonna come up, it’d have to, and Danny really would feel better having someone else’s opinion.
He was reluctant to interrupt their good time, another story devolving into laughter, but it was getting into the afternoon and… well, he also had no idea how long this would take.
“Hey, uh, by the way. I’ve gotta head out in a bit, dropping Tuck back off in Massachusetts, I just wanted to talk to Waylon for a minute first? In private?” Because if Danny had learned one thing?
Direct worked best.
It worked now, Harley nodding along and hopping up, cartwheeling her way along the table and out of the booth.
“Say no more, Danno! C’mon, Jayjay, I wanted ta catch up with you on somethin’ too, so this works perfectly!” She declared cheerfully, giving Jason a fond tug to his fluffy white streak of hair.
Jason shot Danny a look that was half commiserating, half curious as he slid out of the both after her, but Danny was too busy staring into an imagined hellscape where Harley met Jack Fenton.
Fuck Dan, the world couldn’t handle that.
By the time he came back to himself, he and Waylon were alone in the booth, the big man watching him curiously.
“So, what’s on yer mind, kid?” He asked in a low voice, folding his arms on the edge of the table and leaning in.
Secret villain hideaway or not, this wasn’t something Danny wanted just anyone overhearing, so he beckoned Waylon closer to his end of the booth first, tucked into the wall.
The big guy slid his way surprisingly delicately down the seat, then leaned in again, watching Danny expectantly.
Which was when Danny realised he shoulda probably thought about a good way to put this.
Blunt it was gonna have to be.
“So… you… Harley said people called you Killer Croc before you ever hurt anyone?” He said in a rush, flinching at how bad it actually sounded said aloud.
Waylon… did not have eyebrows to raise, and it was really fucking weird that he was noticing that now, but it was definitely what he’d been doing, and Danny was distracting himself again.
“They did,” Waylon agreed a moment later, his voice low and even. Guard up, but not defensive. Not closing the topic off.
Danny huffed out a sigh, and found he couldn’t quite meet the man’s eyes. Found himself intently examining the diamond pattern on the formica tables. His own hands, twisting in front of him over that pattern.
“You… you became what they said you were. A monster.” The words caught in his throat, hard to spit out and shit he thought he was past this.
It had been years.
A scaled green hand covered his, and Danny found himself surprised by how smooth the scales were. Far from soft, but not rough. Almost smoother than the table.
“Who called you a monster, kid?” Waylon asked softly, his voice gruff with something too close to understanding.
Danny’s head snapped up and he shook it quickly, sucking in a deep breath.
“Oh, no one. Not for like, a really long time now. And they said sorry and everything, it’s not that. It’s… you gave into it. Let them make you something wrong and dangerous, and you stopped. How did you stop?” He asked quietly, finally finding it easier to look at Waylon’s face.
He looked surprised.
**
Finding Jason had been harder than usual. He’d never turned his phone back on after last night, and Bruce was still wrestling with one of his least favourite (and most common) side effect of a concussion; light sensitive headaches.
Even with the screen brightness all the way down, it was hard to even look at the batcomputer while he waited for Constantine to arrive.
None of his usual tricks were helping, spikes of pain jabbing behind his eyes every time he tried to scan the cameras for Jason’s presence.
It was Babs who found him in the end, taking her lunch at the library late to help him out. She had whole programs to scan the security cameras of Gotham for her, trained to recognise any bat or rogue from any angle.
False positives happened, but usually didn’t take more than a look to confirm or deny. They were extremely accurate.
Bruce would know.
He had copies of the same programs.
They just weren’t running properly.
He was probably still tired. He’d been pushing himself while injured, as usual, and as usual Alfred would be eager to tell him he’d been overtaxing himself too hard to work efficiently.
And then Constantine was late.
By the time the magician arrived, Bruce was regretting having taken a break to sleep at all. He should have sorted this out last night, before ever calling Jason.
They could have picked a time to meet, and while Bruce was fully aware Jason might have just told him to fuck off, he might not have. Especially if Bruce had promised to leave him alone.
He knew better than to ask Jason to introduce Danny to Constantine.
Barbara had generously kept an eye on Jason in the interim, and by the time Batman and Constantine were ready to go he seemed to have settled in Freeze’s place.
The Frozen Fields. Named for his wife, who Bruce’s top scientists still wouldn’t be able to save.
Along with Harley, Waylon Jones, and Danny.
Of course he was with Danny.
Half the city seemed to be intent on frustrating him today. They’d taken the Batmobile, and while he tended to only drive it in emergencies (and after dark), it still barely sped the journey through the city traffic.
It always felt wrong, sitting and waiting with the rest of the cars in the Batmobile. Didn’t match the “lurking justice in the shadows”. Which Constantine was quick to remind him.
Bruce just gripped the steering wheel tighter, sucked in a deep breath, and nearly bit his tongue when they finally edged up to an intersection only for the light to turn red.
**
Waylon sat back in his seat, back scraping against the wall of the booth as he surveyed the kid in front of him.
Little squirt was tougher ‘n he looked, that much was definitely true. Harley had given him the short run down on their way to the milkshake bar, all the powers she knew he had.
And that he’d been hunted by his folks for a while. Waylon knew how that kinda shit could mess ya up.
He appreciated the heads up too, cuz this kinda shit coming up outta nowhere? Also pretty damn rough. He’d wondered if the kid just wanted to come along for another fight.
If he just wanted another chance to say he’d looked Killer Croc in the eye.
But there was no real bravado there, not even when he challenged Waylon to a rematch. Shit, the kid treated him more normal than most of his henchmen had ever managed to.
Made sense, knowing he was part a ghost an’ fought ghost rogues, but it left Waylon wondering. Apparently he was getting his answer.
Same damn question he’d asked himself a thousand times, ‘specially around the kind of young vigilantes who’d taken a turn to the bad.
Didn’t mean he had a good answer.
He regarded the kid for a long minute, watching the fidgeting, the sudden shyness from a boy who’d literally tackled him from behind on a whim.
This wasn’t just an idle question. Something made him sure of that, and he’d never been involved in all that much of the really weird shit. You heard stories, especially in Arkham.
So he decided to give the kid the best answer he had.
“Cuz I was the worst version of myself. I let myself be the monster they thought I was, got pretty good at it. But it never made me happy.” He paused, mulling it over.
Chuckled softly and looked down into his half drunk milkshake. It was kinda funny how obvious it seemed, in hindsight.
“Shit, there was never even anythin’ I wanted. Not like Penguin, Freeze, or the others. People treated me like a monster so I tried to be one, cuz why the hell not? Couldn’t be worse, could it?”
His gaze shifted back to Danny’s face, watching the kid’s expression. No judgement, which was nice. But he did look confused.
“So you just… got sick of it?” Danny asked, his brows furrowed as he played with his fingers.
Waylon chuckled and shook his head.
“Kinda. Spent a while thinkin’ if people couldn’t treat me with respect, fear’d do. But it ain’t the same. An’ I never had the drive or creative cruelty to stand out in Gotham.”
Danny looked a little incredulous at that, eyebrows rising, but he caught himself before commenting. Snickered and shook his head.
“Yeah, I guess being in a city that’s used to people like Scarecrow and the Joker puts “big and green” into perspective,” he agreed dryly, and Waylon laughed.
It felt good to laugh.
“Oh yeah. City’s got more than its share of low level thugs anyway. I spent a while as extra muscle for the big boys, but I ain’t the takin’ orders sort,” he explained with a modest shrug.
Danny grinned, folding his arms on the table and leaning forward.
“What, a shy and retiring guy like you?” He asked, clearly teasing, and Waylon waved a hand dismissively.
“I’m lucky it was Gotham,” he added after a moment, reflection sobering his mood. “Got sent t’ Arkham. Met Harley. An’ the Bat’s not all that bad. He tried gettin’ me outta the life a couple times.”
Danny cocked his head, a slight frown returning to his face. Following Waylon’s lead.
“How did Batman try and get you out?” There was a little too much intensity for it to be a casual question, and Waylon noted it. Not that he’d figure it out on his own.
Just tryin’ to make sure he didn’t damage the kid.
“Oh, there were a couple ways. Got me moved down to Florida once. Out in the green, away from people. I figured bein’ a wild animal might be more my speed, but it wasn’t. An’ it got messy when I left. Like that whatever he tried, really. There’s lines you can’t uncross.”
Lines like being a cannibal.
Not that he was sobbin’ on a preacher’s shoulder about it. Most of the people he’d eaten were assholes who’d deserved it, and it’d been a preference, not a need.
For all people loved to go on about him eatin’ kids and babies, he’d never actually done it. A guy had to have standards.
Made it easy to stop, once he was in a better head space. He and Harley had talked a lotta old shit out.
Kid didn’t need to know those grisly details though, at least not from his own mouth. Watching Danny a moment longer, Waylon came to a decision.
“Look, kid. There’s a lotta reasons people go bad. Some of ‘em can’t be helped. But if they’re not gettin’ anything out of it, if there’s no goal? The appeal runs out. And sometimes all it takes is someone willin’ to reach down an’ haul yer back up to the light.”
He wouldn’t ask if that was the case with whoever the kid wanted to help. Everyone heard stories, ‘specially about heroes meeting their evil selves.
The fear looked personal, but the asking coulda been for anyone. Waylon was in no rush to judge.
Danny mulled over his words for a while, lips moving soundlessly as he frowned down at the table. This time when he looked up, there was a peace in his eyes.
He’d come to a decision. Good for him.
“Thanks, Waylon. You seem like a pretty great guy to me,” he said simply, and Waylon definitely did not feel a lump in his throat.
“This is after years o’ Harley workin’ on me,” he grumbled gruffly. Shaking his head, he slurped down the last of his milkshake quickly.
Nothing like brain freeze to explain being a little misty eyed.
**
Jason didn’t exactly object to being led out of the bar by Harley; Danny wanted to talk to Waylon in private.
Jason had figured Danny had something to ask the guy about. He hadn’t exactly expected not to be part of the conversation, but that was fine.
He’d know if Danny got into trouble. Fuck, Danny could handle any trouble Gotham could dish out, probably. And the rogues had some basic manners; not starting shit in Freeze’s place was one of them.
Penguin might put the squeeze on and make your life uncomfortable if you lit up the Iceberg Lounge. Dr Freeze’s cold shoulder was a lot more literal, and he didn’t do “proportional response”.
So yeah, he could be cool and give Danny some space.
It wasn’t exactly a surprise that Harley wanted to talk to him either, although he still didn’t see the point. But he let her guide him around the side of the building to a back alley anyway.
“Still fine, Harley,” he said before she could get started, both hands raised in front of him.
She gave him an all too knowing look and hopped up to sit on the dumpster. Put her about a head taller than him. Not that he cared.
“Sure, kid. You’ve been goin’ through a lot though, so I gotta ask; is there anythin’ ya wanna talk to Auntie Harley about?” She asked in her sweetest voice, interlacing her fingers under her chin and batting her lashes.
Jason snickered and leaned against the other side of the alley.
Shit, he wasn’t even annoyed with her play acting. The pit was a happy little puddle in his chest, all sunshine and roses.
A week ago he’d have walked away. Been pissed at wasting his time, getting in his way. How much of that had been because of the Lazarus pits, the problems with the ectoplasm he’d apparently been supposed to be solving?
Was that why nothing had ever been enough? Why he always had to keep pushing? Carve himself a patch of Gotham, keep going. Cut the crime out of Crime Alley, not enough.
Take up with the Outsiders, keep himself busy, rushed off his feet so that when he fell into bed for a couple hours a day he didn’t even dream?
When was the last time he’d taken a breath and just… relaxed? It all felt so long ago, but it had barely been a week.
It just. His whole life had unclenched, like it was a muscle he’d finally stopped using.
Fuck, maybe he should talk to Harley about it.
He got the feeling she knew though, those eagle eyes tracking his every move. They’d never really hung out, but he was uncomfortably aware of how well she’d known him.
How much of him was still the boy she’d known?
She was waiting for an answer, and all of a sudden Jason wasn’t sure what he’d say. Knew that if anyone in the world understood, it just might be Dr Harleen Quinzel.
He sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck, unable to meet her eyes. Fuck, he was getting as bad as Bruce.
And if that thought didn’t kick him up the ass…
“You ever wake up one day and realise your whole life’s been going wrong?” He finally asked, glancing up from the corner of his eye.
She’d dropped the cutesy act, leaning forward with her arms braced on the edge of the dumpster, her face professionally calm. Open. Sympathetic.
“Think I might know just a lil about what that’s like,” she agreed softly, and Jason snorted.
“Yeah. Well. Turns out ever since I came back from the dead I’ve been haunted. Literally. And no one ever noticed.”
He hadn’t even come all the way back, but he couldn’t say that. Not yet. But maybe he could share some of the rest.
Harley nodded slowly, giving him her full attention. Just waiting for him to go on.
It kinda felt like being under a microscope, but not in the cold, analytical way Bruce did that always pissed him off. Like she really cared, and was looking for all his broken parts so she could help him fit them back together.
Fuck, if his kid self had ever known he’d one day trust Harley Quinn over the whole Justice League…
Shit, he didn’t even know how much she already knew.
“The pit rage… it’s a psychosis people get, coming out of the Lazarus pit. Makes you angry, violent, stronger, like a blind rage. For most people it goes away. Mine didn’t.”
He almost wanted to laugh, bitter and sharp.
“Because it wasn’t just the psychosis. I’m not fucking weak, I’m not fucking broken, there’s something else living inside me and it made me so fucking angry all the time…”
The frustration was building again, but this time it was his. All his, not a bubble, not a stir, and part of Jason thrilled with it. He could feel however he wanted, just him.
He cut it off though, forcing himself to relax before Danny could notice. Could worry about whatever he was projecting in his aura.
He could kinda still feel Danny’s, which was new. Not brushing against his, not touching like they were close, but he was aware in a way he hadn’t been before.
Like if he shut his eyes he could point in exactly the direction Danny was standing.
“Danny’s the only one who noticed. Well, really, he’s the only one who could. It’s a ghost thing, and he… he got me help. I feel like myself for the first time since… since I came back.”
He hadn’t even noticed how much the background rage burnt through him until it stopped. Until he could look at his family and see their prodding for what it was; concern.
It was still surprising him, and maybe would for a while. Kinda hoped not though. It wasn’t the most cheerful train of thought.
Seeing that he’d run out of words, Harley gave him a moment to find more, then reached over and ruffled his hair. It was barely a strain in the cramped alley.
“Kid, anyone with two eyeballs t’ rub together can see Danny’s real good for ya. So why’s Bruce tryin’ so hard to keep ya apart?” She asked gently, and Jason snorted.
Rolled his eyes and folded his arms, caught himself doing it, and forced them back to his sides.
“Not rubbing his eyeballs together?” He asked dryly. Harley just snickered.
“Please, if we could get ‘im ta stop overanalysing everything that’d be the miracle. So what’s got ‘im on edge?”
Jason hesitated for a long moment, thinking about it. Finally he shrugged; as always, Bruce was a mystery to him. The man who’d taught him all the tricks to pick apart any mystery. Except himself.
“No idea. We played a prank on him and the Mansons at the gala like we told you last night?” He offered, already aware it wasn’t likely to be the answer.
Harley shook her head in agreement, which almost threw him off.
“Nah, you’re right. The whole making-out-in-a-closet shtick is classic, even if he didn’t see through it yet he’s never cared about you boys smoochin’ before,” she agreed, then sighed and tugged him in to press a kiss to his forehead.
“Whatever his problem is though, it is his problem Jason, an’ what he pulled at the gala has nothin’ t’ do with you or Danny. I already told ‘im off about not talkin’ to ya and I’m gonna do it again when I catch him. Right now I just wanna hear you say you know it ain’t your fault,” she told him firmly, cheeks held between both hands.
Jason fought the urge to roll his eyes. And the rising lump in his throat.
“I know Bruce’s bullshit isn’t my fault, Harley,” he grumbled through smushed lips. Harley squeezed his cheeks a little tighter.
“Then say it anyway. It ain’t your fault Brucie has a bug in his ass, and ya ain’t done anything wrong to deserve it.” She was firm as the wall behind him, utterly unrelenting.
And she could go on for hours, if memory served. Long enough for Danny to come out and see. That was why Jason told himself he gave in.
Nothing at all to do with the way her words ached and bled a gentle warmth into the icy void in his gut where the anger still roiled.
“It’s not my fault B’s got the emotional capacity of a wet newspaper. I don’t deserve his helicopter bullshit any more than anyone else,” he told her obediently, doing his best not to be too sarcastic.
Harley placed a kiss on his nose and released him.
“That’s my good boy. Now, more about this haunted thing. You boys got a plan?” She asked sharply, head cocked as she watched his face.
Cheeks red, Jason leaned back against his wall and pretended it made him out of reach.
“We do,” he said curtly, looking down at the trash strewn ground. Trying to explain it now would take too long, Danny would be out soon.
Of course Harley noticed, nodding thoughtfully and leaning back, kicking her legs.
“Well, if ya ever want to tell me more, you’ve got my number. An’ I’ll get Brucie off ya back for a while, even if I’ve gotta call in the Boy Scout. Whatever you aren’t tellin’ ‘im, don’t let ‘im rush ya,” she told him firmly. Jason had to smile.
“Aren’t you the one always telling us to communicate?” He asked half rhetorically. Harley grinned and hopped off her dumpster, making her way to the front of the alley.
“It only works if ya wait til you’re ready. Pushin’ an’ rushin’ only makes it worse,” she explained airily, stepping out into the street.
Turning, and freezing like a hound on a scent. Eyes narrowed, she patted Jason on the chest as he stepped out after her, not turning her head.
“Jason darlin’, be a dear an’ run get Auntie Harley her bat. The bike’s parked ‘round the back,” she said ever so sweetly, and that tone combined with the narrow eyed glare meant Jason knew exactly who she was looking at before he turned.
He did it anyway, eyes widening as he caught sight of Batman, in full gear, coming down the street towards them. Accompanied by John Fucking Constantine.
Had he seriously come to chase him away from Danny in person? In fucking costume?
The anger surged, his and the pit’s, held back only by the small woman in front of him. The dainty hand on her chest, that’d turn into an iron bar if he pushed it.
Sure, she couldn’t actually hold him back, but she didn’t need to. Whatever Jason wanted to say or do to Bruce, Harley could do a whole lot worse.
Anger melding into a vicious satisfaction, he turned straight back down the alley with a spring in his step.
**
Bruce was a little relieved to arrive outside the bar and see Jason already there. Batman walking in wouldn’t have been out of the question, but he’d rather avoid the theatrics.
Danny not being in sight didn’t come into the decision one bit.
But then Harley said something to Jason and he turned away, leaving immediately. Bruce sped up, planning to follow Jason down the alley-
“Hold ya horses, Batsy,” Harley snapped, stepping directly into his path. He could have gone around her, certainly, but he stopped.
If there was even a chance he could get her on side, that would help immensely.
“I just need to talk to Jason,” he said in Batman’s low growl. Constantine had stopped too, well back of whatever was going to happen.
At least he wasn’t a complete fool.
Harley folded her arms, giving him her very least impressed look.
“An’ if the words you’re sayin’ ain’t “I’m so sorry please forgive me I’ll never do it again”, ya don’t actually need to. Ya need ta speak to me.”
Bruce almost frowned at her words. Why now? They’d spoken before, but she’d seemed satisfied. What had changed between now and their last conversation?
Batman’s face remained impassive as ever.
“Harley. It’s important.”
“He wants me to give the kid a magic checkup,” Constantine put in from behind him, still well back. He waved at Harley when she glanced his way.
Harley’s eyes narrowed for a moment and then Jason was jogging back down the alley, holding her bat.
What the hell had changed since their last conversation?
Pinning Constantine with a piercing glare, she held it for a minute before turning her attention back to Bruce. Snapping her fingers in front of his mask before he could even open his mouth.
“Uh uh! Johnny needs ta talk to him fer that, not you. YOU need to come talk ta me. Now.” She held out her other hand without looking, and Jason slipped the bat into it.
Had he really upset Jason that much at the gala? He’d thought he understood about the public apology, but this felt… well, worse than he’d expected.
More urgent. More vehement. She was more angry than she had been.
He’d gone wrong again, some time between now and then, and he had a Justice League meeting in an hour. Less, counting in the travel time back to the nearest zeta terminal.
Did he have time for this?
Jason was glaring at him, flat and unfriendly, but with a decided undercurrent of anticipation. Bruce’s presence would only make Constantine’s job harder.
Ignoring the part of him that thought the magician deserved to have it a lot harder, he nodded and refocused his attention on Harley.
“Fine. Here?” Better to get this over with. He could put aside all of his personal thoughts and feelings for the meeting, but at least he’d have answers.
Harley gave the surrounding street another sharp look, then shook her head, crooked her fingers, and led him into the alleyway.
“We’ll go ‘round the back. You’re bad for business,” she told him archly, and Bruce followed without a word.
He didn’t tell Jason to stay and speak to Constantine; he was self aware enough to know that would have the opposite effect. The magician would just have to sort himself out.
Part of him almost hoped she would actually use the bat this time. It served its purpose as a visual symbol, but everything made much more sense when people just wanted to beat him up.
Navigating their emotions and separate interior lives and expectations was… messy.
**
Constantine and Jason stared at each other for a long moment after Harley and the Bat disappeared down the alley.
Then Constantine sighed and nodded after them.
“If they’re goin’ round back, we can take this off the main street. If you don’t mind?” Not that the boy had much choice.
They’d caught him unmasked, which raised again the fuckin’ question of why Batt-o was so intent on being masked up for this one.
Maybe he just didn’t want to change. It looked like a lot of kohl on under that mask. Probably took a while to switch in and out.
Jason narrowed his eyes back for a moment, then shrugged. His whole posture still screamed annoyance and aggression, but moved back into the side alley anyway.
“Whatever. Not too far though. I need to hear if my friends leave.” There was something about the agreement that didn’t quite sit right for John.
Too easy. He didn’t have much (any) experience with the kid, never having willingly gotten near a revenant, but… well, this? This was weirdly passive.
When he’d seen the kid coming back with a weapon, that had made sense. He’d half expected Jason to take a swing personally; the dead-or-dead-aligned tended to have a different understanding of acceptable violence.
Handing it off to Harley was basically trading a gun for a nuke, but he didn’t seem at all upset that it hadn’t been used. Hadn’t gone for Batman’s throat, no matter how much Harley seemed to think he’d be justified.
What the hell did the Bat do now?
Something was off with Jason, something that made Constantine almost rethink his earlier guess.
Kid dies, shows back up a couple years later in a storm of blood and violence, demanding revenge? Yeah, that was classic revenant. Physical body, jacked beyond anything the kid shoulda grown into? Ditto.
Even the rage the Leaguers reported checked the boxes, but a revenant shouldn’t be this calm. Not in the face of any kind of threat.
Good news, really; he probably wouldn’t go for Constantine’s throat. John was more than happy with that, though he did regret getting the Bat all worked up.
Not that there was another version of the story Batman might take better, mind. Whatever the hell Jason Todd was, the kid wasn’t human anymore, and for ol’ Batsy the rest of the details didn’t much matter.
They got out of sight of the main thoroughfare, Jason leaning back against a wall with his arms folded and a smirk on his face that was just all challenge.
Constantine didn’t rise to it, brows furrowing as he raised a hand and murmured the beginnings of a spell.
Felt it instantly crash around him, smacked down by a power so titanic he’d have fallen if the side of a dumpster hadn’t caught him. A power so old, so wrought with death, so fucking familiar that it blacked out every sense.
No way in fucking hell any kind of fucking revenant, wraith, zombie, ghost, anything could leave that taste in his mouth. No, that? That was a personal signature.
And not something that could be done lightly either. A power like that… no, this power, Constantine knew exactly whose it was.
This kind of power, reacting this strongly? This instantly, even here on Earth? That was the full force of the Infinite Realms, which had to mean…
Eyes wide and shaken, John scrabbled at the lid for support, staring at Jason. Who actually looked more than a little surprised himself.
It took him a moment to find the words, longer to steady the shake in his voice.
“You… you… holy fucking hells, Jason, do you have any idea what you’ve done? You’ve bound your fuckin’ soul to-”
“The same guy you sold yours to?” Jason drawled, raising an eyebrow.
And alright, fair, that was a pretty good fuckin’ point, but Constantine was well aware he was a dire warning, not a good example.
Damn hard to argue that to a smugly reclining something-or-other that had bound himself so tightly to that same king that John couldn’t even do a gentle magical probe.
He’d been planning on being polite and everything. Noninvasive, Jason wouldn’t even feel it.
Shit, had he felt the spell shut down too? Constantine was about to ask, but Jason wasn’t done talking. Or smirking, looking distinctly amused that he’d shut the mouthy magician up.
“Did you know he owns your soul eleven times by now? That seems a little low to me, surely you’re down to hocking scraps,” Jason noted with a dry chuckle.
Constantine shrugged defensively, well aware that his battered soul was nothing to write home about. Still mostly trying to work out what the fuck was going on.
What use would the Ghost King have for a bat? A use important enough to fold Jason, who’d only be risen six years, into the high court?
Sure, the kid was good, he’d proved that in Gotham’s underworld, but to the Realms? He was barely an infant, and cuttin’ off heads would not impress there.
“No one buys just a piece of a soul. Every deal’s for the whole thing, which is why they keep me alive rather’n letting me kick it and tearin’ up the bits,” he explained distractedly, giving Jason another slow once over.
The good news was, nothing about the guy smelled like a revenant. There was power there, sure, a hint of a magical signature just on the borders of recognizable, but he couldn’t quite pin it down.
Jason hummed in acknowledgement, or maybe interest, but Constantine needed him to keep talking. Needed more clues to work out what the fuck this guy was.
“Pretty sure I haven’t had anyone make the same deal eleven times though,” he commented cautiously, trying to appear as casual as Jason while watching him closely, wishing he’d accepted some bat-training, “most people only make that mistake once.”
“Yeah, I asked about that,” Jason agreed with a dry chuckle, and the bottom fell out of Constantine’s stomach.
A position that let him backtalk the king of the Infinite Realms? Triple not good, not least because that lot were volatile and fuckin’ possessive, but not more so than goddamn Batman.
“Apparently people handed you over for some kind of tax season. You’re a low value trading card over there at this point.”
And that knocked every other thought out of Constantine’s head as he straightened, unreasonably affronted.
It’d be fucking nice to be low value. People might ignore him.
And since when did the Infinite Realms collect taxes?
“Low value? Princes of Hell are fightin’ over my damn soul, it’s the only thing keeping me kickin’,” he protested, and Jason snickered.
Gave John a smug, superior smile.
“And ten entities gave your soul up for tax breaks. Let’s face it, it’s not like you have rarity on your side,” he pointed out smugly.
“It’s still only one soul,” Constantine pouted idly, his mind suddenly spinning mile a minute with the implications.
The kid couldn’t have had this much presence last night, whatever else was true. John would have noticed.
It might just have been now that he knew to look for it, but Jason practically glowed with the essence of the Realms. He’d also somehow not just gotten himself bound to the Ghost King, he had a position where he could question them.
And have his questions answered, if not hugely coherently. Maybe that was just the translation through Jason, though.
That could be a good thing. A good sign at least, for the temperament of the new king. Pariah Dark never listened to questions by all accounts; people never got the opportunity to ask. He just conquered.
Of course, John knew enough magical entities to know that “willing to talk” did not mean, friendly, helpful, safe, or even “not prone to constant and complex lies”.
Thing was, he could handle liars. Tricksters. Anything of the sort, usually, cuz if nothing else? Being willing to talk before shooting meant Constantine had a chance to confuse them.
He was bloody good at that, all else notwithstanding. Almost his most useful talent.
It might be worth trying to find a little more about the Ghost King. Doubly if Jason was willing to help, but that’d have to be careful. No way to know what the kid had accidentally sworn to on that soul bond.
Hell, how was he gonna work out what the kid even was with magic off the table? It’d be back to the fuckin’ books and Undead 101.
At least he was still in his own body. That put a limit on the possibilities, but there were still a lot of options. Bats was going to be unbearable.
Because worse yet… the one thing John did know, with absolute certainty, was that the kid was getting stronger. If he hadn’t manifested any powers yet, it was just a matter of time.
Whatever Jason was, whatever deal he’d managed to pull, the damn halfa wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg. Something was feeding the power in him, whatever had yanked him back to the land of the living to start with.
Plus side? Batty could get off his ass about the kids hanging out. Jason had already taken a fuckin’ jet across whatever influence hanging out with a ghost could do, and pushed right the way to the other side.
He might as well be fuckin’ drinking ectoplasm at this point. Kid could carry Danny around on his back and not make a lick of difference.
Course, if it was the halfa who got the kid to make his deal… well, Batman would have another reason to worry about them hangin’ out together, but the damage was already done.
It wasn’t a soul buy, not to John’s experienced eye. Not a leash around the kid’s neck, not a claim stamped into his being. If anything, this was worse.
Somehow Jason had gotten himself so tightly wrapped to the Ghost King that the other’s power all but flowed in his veins. Even from here, far from the Realms, Constantine didn’t even finish the spell before it was smacked down.
That… that was new. Nothing he’d ever seen before, and he was well used to possessive metaphysical assholes who didn’t like anyone else touchin’ their shit.
Fuck, did Jason even know?
Constantine sucked in a breath and gave damn near instantly on even trying to form a tactful question a bat would understand. Kid was playing in his kiddy pool now, like it or not, and John had to know how deep he’d gone.
“So what deal did you make?” He asked bluntly. Not that Jason apparently minded in the least, still smirking as he gave the magician a cool once over.
“Y’know, I’m pretty sure it’s rude to ask. Not discussing paychecks and all that,” he drawled casually, eyes still dark with that barely covered aggression.
Constantine rolled his eyes.
“I had three princes of Hell gettin’ a little too cozy and a cursed rock lookin’ to turn the world to pink tourmaline. The Ghost King was big enough to shut ‘em up and let me push the rock to a different dimension where it’s never gonna be our problem again. Now quit bein’ an ass, I know a lot more about this kinda shit and I can tell ya if they hid any clauses.”
That did shut Jason up, the kid’s eyes widening for a moment like he hadn’t expected Constantine to share.
Tough titties for him, John already knew Batman was gonna be a bitch about this so doing the due diligence early? Pretty much their only hope.
He considered it longer than John thought was justified, since it was inarguable. John Constantine, soul selling expert. He should have business cards made.
Finally the kid shrugged. He still looked prickly, defensive, but he was listening.
“Well I didn’t sell him my fucking soul.” Which.
John stared at him, mouth agape. Snapped shut and narrowed his eyes.
“Kid, you could not be more marked if you wore a neon sign. You signed something over, the Ghost King ain’t the sort to give prizes for free.”
A Ghost King Jason seemed to think was a he, so that was a useful little piece of intel. He’d definitely know better than John if they were already on ask-questions stage.
Jason scowled and shrugged, arms still crossed.
“Lucky me. Protection from big scary human wizards, for the low low price of my service. And some help with my Lazarus problem,” he added, as if the last was the only part he though worth mentioning.
Constantine sagged back against the wall, sinking down to sit on the alley floor. Bracing his elbows on his knees he ran both hands through his hair, holding his head up.
“Great… just fucking great,” he muttered, voice muffled by his new position. Part of him wanted to laugh, but he was pretty sure it’d come out a sob.
Hysteria beckoned.
Jason made another noise that might almost have been concern, and Constantine forced himself to suck in a breath. To keep it together.
Forced his head up so he could glare at the kid who now looked just way too confused.
“You get that that’s worse, right?” He snapped, eyes narrowing. “You get that selling yourself into service is fucking worse?”
Jason glared back down at him, drawing himself up like size and muscle was gonna impress a magician.
(It might have if Jason was a decade or two older, but not the way the kid intended.)
“What the fuck d’you think will happen when he takes your soul?” He snapped back, aggression rising fast enough that Constantine forced himself to stop again.
Deep breath in. Hold. Out.
One more in. Hold. Out.
He got to ten, the kid watching him with visible confusion, deflating the longer John went without pushing back. Yippee for him.
When he thought he had his voice under control again, John forced himself to his feet.
“I sell my soul, and if anyone ever actually claims the damn thing they can do whatever they want to it for eternity. It’ll fuckin’ suck, kid, but the one thing they can’t do, no matter who it is?”
He just sounded tired now, which only wrong footed Jason even more. Why had he even gotten out of bed at all?
Maybe if he left now he could just go back. Tuck himself up in the House of Mystery, feed his League communicator to something pandimensional, and just hide for a while.
The Bat would probably come after him.
Taking another bolstering breath, John did his best to sound calm. Not patronising. Because the kid damn near definitely had no idea.
Which was why people should leave magic to the fuckin’ professionals.
Catching Jason’s eye, he held it, hoping to impress the seriousness of what he was about to say into the kid’s soul.
“They cannot compel me to action. They can try all sorts of force, all sorts of fucked up shit, but I get the last say. They say jump, I say fuck off, no jump. But selling service?”
Jason’s eyes had widened now, and John could just see all those little wheels turning. Well, set the little fuckers spinnin’ faster.
“They say jump, you’re on the way up before you can ask “how high?”. I dunno what you think you signed up for, kid, I dunno what deals with the new king are like cuz I didn’t fuckin’ ask. But you get a copy of the damn contract and bring it back to me. I’ll see if there’s anything we can do about it.”
It was the only logical option, especially with an entity this powerful. Constantine was betting the kid’s hatred of being used, being controlled, would make him agree even if he hated it.
He probably could have been nicer, though.
Jason’s eyes flashed, actually flashed a bright, ecto green as he shot John a glare that promised bloody dismemberment.
There was something else too, something that definitely wasn’t there a second ago but filled the alley now. Something hot and angry and powerfully vicious, something that wanted his blood.
If there were space to back up, he would have. As it was, he let his hand slip behind his back, ready to teleport. He had no doubt that any kind of binding would meet exactly the same fate his inquiry had.
Even in civvies, Jason Todd cut a menacing figure as he stalked the two steps across the alley to put himself directly in Constantine’s face.
“For fuck’s sake, I am not a fucking child! I don’t need you to hold my hand, I don’t need your fucking help, and I don’t need your fucking permission to live my fucking life!”
Constantine actually leaned back, his head brushing the wall behind him as Jason shoved a finger into his face, his every muscle taut with barely restrained violence.
“Like you just fucking said, you don’t know shit! So maybe, just fucking once, the whole fucking lot of you sit the fuck down, shut the fuck up, and stay out of my fucking way!”
This close, Constantine could feel Jason’s hot breath on his face. This close… something clicked.
He could feel Jason’s anger, projecting out of him in a way that definitely wasn’t human. Choking and visceral and absolutely nothing like the pulsating bloody rage that forced itself down his throat.
There was something fucking else inside Jason. Something that tasted of the Infinite Realms and wanted his head on a stick.
Something that wasn’t the Ghost King. Didn’t carry the touch of his claim.
John was about to teleport away, fuck Batman and all of Gotham, when Jason turned around sharply and marched out of the alley. Almost like the kid was running.
Slumping back against the wall, John Constantine closed his eyes and breathed in the city smogs, only happy that none of it actively wanted his blood.
**
Harley let Batman precede her around the milkshake bar to the parking lot at the back, a quick glance confirming that they were alone.
For the best, really; anyone present might get entirely the wrong idea.
Taking a casual roll of the wrist for added momentum, Harley took a quick shot at the back of Batty’s knee, stepping up quickly beside him to use the return swing to catch him in the gut.
Caught off guard, he crumpled, landing on one knee and glaring up at her.
“Harley…” he growled, and her eyes narrowed.
She’d done this the nice way last night. He hadn’t listened, so now they were doing it his way.
“Batsy,” she shot back, cutting him off quick and direct. Tapped her bedazzled bat gently off her other hand. “We had us a talk already this week.”
No specific times; not in an unsecured location. He’d know anyway.
From his silence, he wasn’t quite ready to admit it. But he didn’t try to rise. Conflicted, then.
Like that was new.
Harley pressed the bat gently under his chin, tipping his head up to face her.
“And yet somehow, despite you assurin’ me you’d listened real close, a mister Jason Todd is out here tellin’ me you tried to ban him from hangin’ out with his new boyfriend?” She asked sugar-sweet, her expression all danger.
She could just about see the moment it sank into his head. Even with his actual eyes covered, that cowl was still plenty expressive.
Kinda freakishly expressive. Not ideal for the crime fighting to her mind, but what would she know? She much preferred committing the crimes.
He tried to argue, frown so deep he’d have wrinkles within the day.
“This has nothing to do with that, the Fenton boy is dangerous to his condition-”
Harley cut him off by poking the end of her bat almost into his mouth, her eyes narrowed. And sure, she was bein’ delicate with his head outta concern for that concussion, but there were limits.
“An’ what d’you think ya know about Jason’s condition that a half dead kid don’t?” She asked sceptically.
Batman hesitated. If he pushed the bat away, they’d have an actual fight on their hands. One he might let her win, if he just needed the tussle.
She’d never known a man so eager to have someone put him on his ass, and so incapable of ever lettin’ it actually happen. Well, other than Jason.
Musta run in the family.
Bruce sagged back, sat on the cracked asphalt of the parking lot.
“Constantine believes that Danny’s energy may strengthen something inside Jason. Something dangerous,” he explained, still in Batman’s rough growl.
She was gonna get him a vocoder. Just for shits and giggles.
Fuck, was that why Jason wore the whole helmet for Hoody? Now that she thought of it, there was a voice changer in there.
Two cranky little peas in matching muscly pods.
She dropped to sit cross legged on the ground across from him, bat laying in front of her. Talkin’ again, take two. Time to make it stick.
“Have you actually talked to Jason about this?” She asked sceptically.
The eye slits in the cowl narrowed. Harley was not impressed.
“Have you talked to him at all, since he an’ Danny have been hangin’ out?”
Bruce glared at her for a moment longer. Did not fold his arms or pout, but she could tell he wanted to.
“I spoke with him last night. He’s irrational, angry, unwilling to listen to reason…”
“He’s sick of ya tellin’ him you know what’s best and not listenin’ ta what’s wrong,” Harley corrected flatly.
Watched his shoulders sink just a little. As much as he could deflate in the suit. Even his growl lost most of its sandpaper.
“He said Danny was taking him to a doctor. More exposure to the realms could make things worse. Kill him, or give the pit another chance to take over. I can’t…” he cut himself off, voice tight and garbled around the forced gravel.
Harley watched him for a long moment.
He’d come out in the suit. It had to be for a reason.
She couldn’t ask the questions that would break him apart in the suit. Couldn’t guide him through the revelations and the grief. Not if there was somethin’ else he had ta be doing.
Another damn time then. She’d get ‘im here again.
“Batsy.” Her voice was gentler this time, and drew his face back to hers. She made sure to catch his eye. “He already died. Seems ta me somethin’ in there never really let him go.”
She didn’t know much about the Infinite Realms… or anything at all, really. All this magic and mayhem and ghosts was fun an’ all, and she always liked to play, but it wasn’t her wheelhouse.
Didn’t have ta be. She knew how to listen to the professionals.
Bruce had stiffened, the mask of Batman pulling back, and she cut him off with a raised hand.
“An’ you only have ta look at Danny ta know that whatever all that is? Jason ain’t the first. Won’t be the last. Someone’s gonna know what went wrong, and Jason believes they’re helping him. You need to believe Jason.”
“But he could be wrong.” It was barely more than a whisper. Low and grinding and completely devoid of Batman growl, like it’d been pulled right out of his soul.
Harley gave him a gentle bop on the head with her bat.
“Then we deal with that then. But all ya doin’ by bossin’ him around an’ not listenin’ is pissing him off and makin’ him more likely ta run right off to these Realms. He’s not the sweet kid followin’ ya shadow anymore, Batsy. He’s a man, and he gets to make choices. And mistakes.”
This sure as hell wasn’t one of ‘em, but Bruce had never been good at taking that on faith. He had to be shown, and he’d never stop waiting for the tables to turn.
Which was how he usually made things worse. But he did at least know that.
He still looked mutinous, scowling across at her, so she gave him a slightly harder bop on the shoulder.
“Batman, listen ta me. I know you mean well, but Danny makes him happy. All Jason’s seein’ right now is that he’s happy, an’ you wanna take it away.”
That hit harder than any of her blows, though she wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t known him so long. His whole body stiffened, sudden hesitation in even his breathing.
Harley stared him down through it, then nodded in satisfaction as his shoulders lowered, just a fraction.
“I can’t lose him again, Harley,” he whispered, barely audible even less than a foot away.
She gave him an even harder bop on the other shoulder.
“Then stop driving him away. You ain’t even said sorry for the other night yet an’ now you owe him another apology. There’s always that things might go wrong; he might get hit by a car crossing the street. The only sure thing is that if you keep treating him like this?”
She leaned forwards, grabbing his chin and forcing him to face her. To look at her, and see how serious she was.
He was reluctant to meet her eyes, but even under the white outs Harley knew when she had someone’s attention. Good. He probably knew what came next.
“You will lose him, Batsy. And it’ll be no one’s fault but your own.”
**
Danny couldn’t have missed Constantine making his way up the street blindfolded and with his ears plugged. It might have been the whole “owned his soul” thing.
It also might have been the vortex of swirling magical attention that followed him like a cloud. The guy clearly wasn’t trying to advertise his presence, but to something like Danny…
Well, trying to hide that hard always caught his attention. A magical “nothing to see here” tasted like liquorice in the back of his throat.
Maybe the trench coat was actually cursed, in more than just the unfortunate fashion sense.
Part of him wondered if this had anything to do with them. The rest, well aware what his luck was like, wondered if he’d come barging into the restaurant.
It wasn’t like he shouldn’t be getting ready to go anyway, but he just… well, he was having a surprising amount of fun just hanging out with Waylon.
The guy was old enough to be his dad, but he was a great listener. Really encouraging, and he’d told Danny another couple of stories too, some from his darker times but all with happy endings.
He was probably trying to make Danny feel better after their talk, and it was definitely working. It just… well, he didn’t even really like thinking about Dan.
He’d asked Nocturn to put him to sleep not long after becoming king, to give the guy something to do other than stew in a thermos and plot vengeance.
Part of him still kinda expected that to bite him in the ass, but even if Dan broke out of Nocturn’s dreams, he couldn’t break out of Soup Time. For whatever reason he’d never learned Danny’s portal trick.
All the people who kept souping Danny were dead in Dan’s timeline.
Danny had almost been ready to wrap things up with Waylon (as little as he wanted to; they’d already exchanged numbers) when he felt Jason’s rage bubble.
He didn’t realise he’d blanked out until Waylon tapped the table in front of him with a claw, concern on his scaly face.
“Somethin’ th’ matter, kid?” He asked in a low growl.
Danny shook his head, staring down at the mostly empty milkshake and chugging the rest.
“Probably nothing… just got a bad feeling about Jason,” he explained with a shrug.
Reached out just a little, extending his senses but not aura. If Jason was already mad, that might send him over the edge.
Just as he reached out a sudden flare of fury made his hand clench, the glass he was still grasping shattering. Great, he had a hand full of milkshake and shards.
Shaking both free, Danny shoved his way out of the booth at the same time as Waylon, the big man going from concerned to battle ready in an instant.
For the first time, he almost looked dangerous. Danny was glad to have him at his back for the visual component at least; anyone who didn’t think twice about pissing off a tank like Jason wouldn’t even blink at Danny.
Killer Croc though? He got that name on his looks alone, long before he earned it.
They didn’t even make it across the bar, wait staff scattering to what were clearly well established positions in case trouble came in.
Trouble didn’t; barely.
Jason Todd did, all but vibrating with rage and steaming green with Pitty’s contribution.
Wait; steaming? Jason had mentioned the Lazarus pits did that, but Danny had never seen ectoplasm steam before. Could everyone see it?
Whether Waylon could or not, it didn’t stop him from hurrying forward, attention fully focused behind Jason for anyone following.
It was maybe the teeniest bit cute that even so angry he had a personal heat haze, Jason didn’t even think Waylon was going for him. His attention was fixed somewhere else; somewhere internal and probably bloody.
Instinct pulled Danny forward, Jason slipping easily into his aura and for a moment Danny felt like he’d drown in Jason’s rage. Answered it himself a moment later, stroking across the anger with worry-protect-safe now.
Jason twitched just a little as the aura washed around him, looking around on automatic until he faced Danny.
The rage softened just a little as he caught Danny’s eye, shoulders sagging. His jaw unclenched enough to talk; visibly enough that it must have been painful.
“Just fucking B again, treating me like a fucking child,” he spat, fists still clenched tight at his sides.
The effort it was clearly taking not to go out and start swinging kept Danny on edge, even as Waylon relaxed.
“Yer a long way from that, kid,” the big guy agreed with a low chuckle, still between Jason and the door, and rested a large hand lightly on Jason’s shoulder. “Want me to go have a word?”
Jason shook his head sharply, the smallest of smiles flicking across his face before the anger replaced it. Yeah, definitely cute.
“No thanks. You’ve only just got out, you don’t need bat trouble again already,” he said through gritted teeth, then nodded to Danny. “I just wanna get out of here.”
Danny nodded immediately, going from maybe-fight to flight. Which was kinda literally an option. Ghosts knew how to make an exit.
“Do you wanna take your bike or just disappear?” He asked simply.
Jason gave him a tight smile, barely layered over anger he was still struggling to control. Fuck, if this was what he’d been dealing with every day before Danny came along…
“Harley’s out back with Batman. I just want to fucking go,” he growled, shaking his head.
Danny nodded again, turning and crouching a little for Jason to hop onto his back.
“Phantom Express it is then.”
And yeah, he knew it looked stupid without Waylon’s confirming snort of laughter.
So did Jason, and the tinge of mirth that coloured his rage-burning-break in his head was more than worth looking silly.
Seemed like Jason was finally starting to trust his strength too as he hopped up without question, Danny not reacting in the slightest to his added weight.
And definitely not the way Jason now towered over him, or having those thighs wrapped around his waist. Nope. No horny in the aura today.
Giving a last nod to Waylon, he turned them both invisible and flew up through the roof, intangibility phasing them through at the last second.
Once they were high enough to be beyond any eavesdropping, he slowed to a stop, not quite looking back at his passenger.
“So, where do you wanna go?”
As Danny had kinda hoped, the sudden exhilaration of flight had tamped Jason’s anger back down until it was less a physical presence. It still seethed and boiled inside him, but it was losing steam.
About half of what he could feel from Jason now was just tired, and honestly? Couldn’t blame him.
Danny had been told how bad his pit rages had been, a visceral wrath that almost possessed Jason and made him lash out in all directions. And by all accounts? He still hadn’t seen the half of it.
It made his core ache just thinking about living with that much rage stuck inside. Feeling like that all the time… Danny had always respected Jason, but this? This demanded a whole new level.
And a little bit made him want to put Jason in a nice ectoplasm hamster ball so he could roll around the streets and nothing would ever hurt him again.
Gonna have to keep that under wraps too, since apparently Danny was losing his fucking mind all up in Gotham.
(Not that he’d never hamster balled anyone before. It was just usually a punishment for Tucker, or Wes if they were being assholes. Derogatory hamster balls were totally fine and not evidence of losing anything at all.)
The man himself was quiet for a long moment, struggling with just everything that was going on inside him.
Danny waited, turning them both intangible again just in case Jason could still be affected by the cold. At this height, it wasn’t exactly pleasant.
Made him side eye all those pictures of witches in dresses and long socks on broomsticks. Good way for the living to get pneumonia, in Danny’s opinion.
Jason didn’t even seem to notice, letting out a frustrated huff of air.
“We’ve gotta get Tucker home. If B is off being an asshole we can at least go to the manor,” he grumbled.
Danny paused for a long moment himself, considering another solution. After all, for ghosts it was simply unthinkable that they hadn’t even had an introductory brawl yet.
Whenever he got that pissed, getting the shit kicked out of him had always helped burn off the energy. But maybe Jason’s was different.
Danny was pretty sure he’d never been that pissed, not even at Pariah. Not even at Agent K.
Danny wouldn’t judge. For now, he nodded, turning to head towards the manor.
“We can go to Frostbite after we’ve dropped Tuck off. It’s been long enough, and you definitely feel stronger?” He offered, kinda hoping it might help Jason feel better.
The grunt he got in return didn’t sound convinced, but Jason also didn’t argue.
Neither of them were expecting to run into traffic in the Gotham airways though, at least not below airline level. Or to be interrupted.
With a sudden loud gust of wind, another black haired young man in a black leather jacket pulled up in front of them, looking around with a frown.
“Hey, I heard someone up here? Jason? Where are you?” He asked loudly, brows furrowing like he was still listening.
Danny’s confusion was better than words as Jason gave his shoulder a quick squeeze.
“Superboy the first. Tim’s boyfriend,” he explained quietly, and Kon’s head whipped around to follow the sound.
“Okay Jason, I know you’re up here, what the fuck?” He asked impatiently, which was when Danny remembered.
Still invisible. Hiding from the Bat and also concerned citizens. He popped them back into visibility with a sheepish grin, waving at… Connor? Or Con? No, kinda sharper. Kon.
It might have been a secret third level of alias, but Danny was pretty sure the bats had called him by a couple names over the various stories.
“Hey… sorry, forgot we were invisible,” he explained, trying not to laugh. Mostly at himself, but best not give the wrong impression.
Superboy’s eyes locked on them for a moment, narrowed briefly, and then his face broke into a grin.
“So, I’m gonna guess you’re Danny, Tucker’s friend that Tim has been gushing about?” He asked eagerly, reclining comfortably in the air. Then paused. “Well, gushing about Tucker. You were mentioned, though.”
That sounded about right.
Danny snickered and nodded, giving Jason a careful reshuffle. If they weren’t gonna be travelling for the moment, they could get a little more comfortable.
Thick thighs tightened around his hips and Danny very specifically did not melt into a puddle of goo. Not even a little bit.
“Yeah, we were just gonna go get Tucker and head out. Are you coming to see Tim?” He asked, kinda half wanting to wait around long enough and see what Tucker and Connor made of each other.
Kon if he was here in official capacity? But he wasn’t exactly wearing a super uniform, or logo. But Jason hadn’t mentioned a name, because Jason wasn’t a helper.
There was one easy way around that though. Bouncing Jason just a little more roughly than strictly necessary, Danny stuck out his hand.
“Danny Fenton, by the way. Since we haven’t been fully introduced.” He gave his best cheerful-but-totally-human grin. No point unnerving the first official alien he met, even if he was only half alien.
The boy reached out easily, giving him a firm handshake back.
“Kon El. Connor when we’re on street level. And yeah, I was just heading the same way when I heard you guys. Tim asked if I’d bring Tucker home though, he wasn’t sure what you guys’ plans were so if you had anything else to do?” He glanced from one to the other, so clearly not asking that he might as well have.
Could Kryptonians see the heat haze of Jason’s anger too? Or did he just know the family well enough, know Jason well enough, to know the signs?
Danny hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at the other halfa. He could almost taste Jason’s indecision, holding each other this close. Bitter and tight in the back of his throat.
How much did he want to deal with his family, with that rage still burning inside him? Hell, they hadn’t even worked out what Jason would do while Danny took Tucker home.
Danny kept quiet though, leaving the choice up to Jason.
It didn’t take long.
Sucking in a deep breath, Jason let out a heavy sigh, a wave of pure relief washing over him.
The anger was still there, a hot little coal right between the dual cores, but it couldn’t drown out the gratitude-sorry-safe. Barely tempered it anymore.
His voice was still gruff when he spoke, still stiff with emotion, but Kon seemed to understand.
“Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks Kon.”
The younger man tipped them both a sarcastic salute, straightening in the air and turning towards Wayne manor.
“You’ve probably got like, a text from Tim about the change of plan, if he even bothered to mention it, but I’ll let him know I saw you. Seems like you’re sticking around, so I’ll probably run into you again, Danny.” He gave them both a cheery nod and flew away.
A tiny part of Danny was sorry that they wouldn’t be around to watch Tucker spiral when confronted with Tim’s boyfriend.
Tim Drake Wayne was a hottie, no point denying it, and he was easily Tucker’s second biggest tech crush beside the mysterious Oracle. With all that hero worship though?
Tucker probably hadn’t actually noticed he was also hot yet. He’d have been in love with him if he’d looked like a snail.
Kon El though? Kon El had exactly the kind of leather jacket, too cool for school, sculpted good looks that Tucker fell head over heels for on any gender.
(Danny absolutely was not a hypocrite, he’d be the very first to admit that he and Tucker had very similar taste in partners, at least as far as appearances. Tucker just preferred a little more “step on me” energy.)
In all the reminders that Tim had a boyfriend, no one had said his boyfriend was hot.
Danny didn’t mention it. It wasn’t like he’d have been able to fully enjoy things anyway; the night before had proved that, and Jason’s mood had been rosy by comparison.
He did offer just one comment though, watching Kon fly away thoughtfully.
“Should we have warned him that Tucker is going to spontaneously combust if Kon tells him to ride him?” He asked mostly hypothetically, fading them out of visibility and tangibility again.
It startled Jason into letting out a snort of laughter which became a cough with his last rasp of thinner air.
“You just did, with Kon’s hearing,” he managed once he could talk normally again, and Danny considered feeling bad about it.
That sizzling coal of rage was almost buried under amused-anticipation-relief.
Nah. No matter what form Tucker’s next wave of vengeance took, this was worth it.
“So, where to next?” He asked, again… kinda hypothetically. From Jason’s sigh the older man was just as aware of what the answer had to be.
“Let’s just fucking go see Frostbite. If I keep looking at the city something’s gonna piss me off again.” He sounded reluctant, resigned, but a slow creeping glow of amazement spread through his aura.
About to pop open another portal, Danny tipped his head up as far as he could and made them visible again, looking for his face.
“What’s up?” He asked, willing to put dimensional travel on hold if there was anything they might be able to do to actually help.
Jason shook his head to focus himself, glancing down at Danny and quickly looking away. Was Danny imagining that sweet pink blush in his cheeks?
“It’s nothing.”
Danny waited, secure in the actual empathic sensation of Jason warring with himself on his back. Finally he won (and also lost, as all civil wars end) and sighed.
“Just. I’ve never come out of the pit rage this fast before,” he admitted gruffly, glaring down at the sparkling lights of the city below. Like this wasn’t something to celebrate.
Danny let them fade back to invisibility, since Jason pretty clearly didn’t want to be looked at.
“Hey, that’s great news! We’ll just have to short circuit Tucker’s gay ass every time you need a boost,” he chirped brightly, and popped the portal open to Jason’s laughter.
**
In his heart of hearts, Bruce knew why Harley was taking him to the parking lot.
If there was any chance of witnesses, any possibility of being overheard, he couldn’t listen to her. Not in the suit. Couldn’t show what any of his rogues (who hadn’t met Harley) might misconstrue as weakness.
If there was a single place in the city which could be trusted to be unsurveiled, it was the parking lots to his rogues’ side businesses. They had their own professional courtesies.
He appreciated it, in his own way. The closest thing to privacy they could have outside the Batmobile at the moment (and even then his children could listen in).
The baseball bat had been… well, not a total surprise, she’d had Jason fetch it in front of him and it wasn’t likely to be an empty prop twice in a row.
Still, he wasn’t as prepared as he could have been, and the first two blows hurt. His fold to the ground was mostly genuine, though part of him was definitely leaning in.
Concussion be damned, he’d been taking an emotional beating this week. At least exterior bruises would show him when they were healing.
But he hadn’t had time after her warning to do anything but head to the meeting.
Had he?
All he remembered was the seriousness of her face, the weight of absolute certainty in her words.
He would lose Jason, because he himself had pushed him away. Because Jason didn’t think Bruce trusted him. Thought Bruce would take away his chance at happiness.
Maybe Danny had been right. Maybe Jason didn’t even know Bruce loved him.
Things were so much worse than he’d made himself believe.
He knew he’d risen when his alarm went off, giving him ten minutes to head to the zeta tubes. Found Constantine again in the alley, since the man was with him now.
Couldn’t remember talking to him. But that wasn’t unlike himself anyway.
There was a hidden zeta tube downtown, only just far enough to justify the Batmobile, but Bruce would rather not leave it to drive home from Freeze’s place anyway.
He set it to return to the cave as he climbed out, at the end of another dark alley. The sun was already beginning to sink, painting the city in yellow and gold.
Constantine tapped carefully on the hood of the Batmobile between them, then jumped back as the car drove itself away, swearing. By the time he finished dusting himself off, Bruce was watching him again.
“Are yer back in there?” The magician asked cautiously, his own voice rough.
Bruce took a moment to assess his colleague. Never exactly tidy, Constantine looked more dishevelled than he had before Bruce and Harley left him.
Jason’s checkup likely hadn’t gone well.
Of course it hadn’t. Not if Jason felt the way Harley said… no. The way he’d told Harley he felt. Because Harley asked.
Something deep and weary in him tried to pull his shoulders down to sag, but he ignored it with the aid of long practice. Just gave Constantine a stiff jerk of the head.
“Hn.”
The man rolled his eyes, turning and heading for the defunct phone booth disguising the zeta tube.
“Great, monosyllables. Well, since yer back, listen up.”
The results of his examination, if Jason even let him perform it. Still, maybe the man would have something? It wasn’t like he couldn’t have cast a few spells without Jason knowing.
“First of all, yer boy ain’t a revenant.”
That jerked Bruce to a stop, his brows furrowing as he turned to face Constantine head on again. The magician had pulled a cigarette from somewhere, likely because they were heading for the Watchtower.
Bruce didn’t bother trying to stop him. He was too busy trying to process.
Constantine didn’t look happy either, so this probably wasn’t actually good news?
“What do you mean?” He growled, stepping closer and lowering his voice to avoid eavesdroppers.
Constantine rolled his eyes, waved his free hand, and the smoke from his cigarette crackled briefly in the air.
“None o’ that cloak and dagger shit, Bats. No one’s gonna hear us. But the kid, Jason? He’s not a revenant. Not sure what he is, actually, an’ not too keen on lookin’ deeper.”
It might have been the longest Bruce had heard him speak without saying “fuck” since the Amity Park question came up. The fact that he looked distinctly uneasy made that less reassuring.
“Why not?” Bruce growled, a little grateful to be able to step back and away from the smoke. Harley had left his head be for the most part, but it was already pounding again.
Constantine fixed him with a slow, speculative look.
“See, here’s my issue,” he began, raising a hand to cut off a growled protest and pointing directly at Bruce. “You? You’re Mr Worst Case Scenario. Can’t stop pokin’ at shit til it gives you an answer, or bites yer head off.”
That was certainly true. It was something that Alfred… Selina… Clark… Dick… Diana… almost everyone close to him had complained of.
Bruce wasn’t convinced it was a shortcoming, but he knew it about himself. It had been an underlying theme this whole investigation; Constantine telling him things because otherwise he’d go poking.
So what changed?
“You’re not gonna like whatever I tell you. An’ I could try an’ temper that by lyin’, or I could treat you like a fuckin’ adult on yer promise the you don’t go punchin’ inter shit yer don’t understand.”
Constantine stared expectantly at him, taking another long drag on his cigarette.
Ah. Waiting for Bruce to choose an option. As if there was any doubt?
“I swore your oath,” Bruce reminded him gruffly, and Constantine rolled his eyes again.
“An’ I’m fully aware you’re a tricky piece of shit that’ll try and work around it the second it comes up. That’s why it’s generic. You hear about the Ghost King, you back the fuck off, shut the fuck up, and run. That’ll include any of yer precious reports.”
He took another slow drag of his cigarette, watching Bruce the whole while. Bruce stared back, unsure what he was looking for but determined that he’d find nothing.
Shit. So much for having Red Robin and Oracle prod around for him. Though he had been planning to warn them to be delicate.
It barely occurred to him that showing nothing might tell Constantine more than anything else before the magician sighed and shook his head.
“Listen, B. The shit you need to know? Actually, really need to know? Jason’s… safe. There’s not a damn thing in the Infinite Realms that can hurt him now, whatever he is. I’d even put money on him bein’ demon proof, with the wards on him now.”
And wouldn’t it be so, so nice to believe that Constantine had put those wards on him? Bruce could feel the wish for it, a flight of fancy he rarely allowed himself.
Bruce let himself indulge in the want to believe for about the same length of time as that ominous pause.
“What wards?” He asked flatly, the low rumble not exactly hiding how he felt about the situation, but since he’d almost rather yell, he considered it fair.
Constantine, again, was not impressed. He folded his arms and prodded at Bruce with his still smoking cigarette.
“See, there’s that prodding. I’m trying to do this the nice way, B. Give you answers instead of just shutting you down, but you aren’t gonna know everything without a couple decades of practice, and you need to get over that.”
The magician took another drag, closing his eyes tightly for a second. When he opened them again, he looked entirely uncompromising.
The stern professional Bruce had only seen previously in life and death situations, and ones getting worse at that. Was this situation that dire?
“I could speak a word and make you forget this whole damn thing. Four more, and you’d have no choice about droppin’ it,” Constantine growled, clearly bitterly regretting not choosing that option. Bruce’s eyes narrowed in response.
He’d clearly ruled it out, but he hadn’t wanted to. Whatever he didn’t want to tell Bruce, Constantine expected him to have a powerful response.
Which meant that is was very bad, but also that Bruce’s natural response would make things worse. He could work around that.
He chose not to address the remark at all, just waiting for Constantine to continue. The man stayed silent just long enough that Bruce wondered if he was changing his mind on trying to make him forget.
This was why he hated magic. But he’d broken through it before. No spell could stand up to intense, detailed scrutiny, and he would surely have plenty of clues to remind himself when the problem was with his own son.
Finally Constantine sighed, flicked the butt of his cigarette to the ground, and crushed it under one heel. He seemed to have come to a decision, new purpose under the fear he’d been hiding since he first arrived.
“Let’s just get this over with,” he sighed, heading for the zeta tube. There was just a little more spring in his step.
Bruce frowned and moved to block him.
“The wards,” he pressed, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice. This conversation was important.
Constantine looked surprisingly chipper actually, raising his chin to give Bruce a sudden and almost startling smirk.
“Oh no, big guy. You had your chance to promise to behave like an adult, so we’re going with option three.”
He’d noticed Bruce’s lack of comment. Obviously, but Bruce hadn’t really thought he’d need to say anything.
Investigating was what Batman did. He knew how to do it tactfully, and without stepping on toes. He just wouldn’t promise not to do it.
None of which explained Constantine’s suddenly improved mood. It was almost the same satisfaction he’d show when he’d worked out how to pawn an unpleasant job off on someone else.
“And that is?” Bruce asked warily, suspecting he wouldn’t like whatever made this not Constantine’s problem. Constantine waggled a finger at him, like he was nothing more than a naughty child.
“I let you ask questions, after Wonder Woman promises to keep yer in line.” He said it with the finality of a lead weight, and it dropped through Bruce’s chest like one.
Shit.
Diana… Diana knew him far too well. If Constantine convinced her of whatever gave him this level of caution, she would camp in the bat cave to stop him if necessary.
Diana didn’t tolerate what she considered risk. If Bruce could convince her he was right instead… she could be a very useful ally. And she had always liked Jason.
Jason adored her. Wonder Woman had always been his favourite hero, even as a child. If Diana asked him, he might even agree to a consultation.
Bruce still didn’t know what had happened with today’s consultation, and apparently he wouldn’t even find out until they spoke to Wonder Woman.
He could extrapolate from that alone, frankly, even if Constantine wasn’t visibly rattled.
Bruce stepped aside somewhat reluctantly, letting Constantine step into the zeta tube first. They could technically fit in together, but he wasn’t exactly in the mood to play sardines.
The magician’s vehemence was troubling him, as was his conviction that Wonder Woman would be the answer. It was possible that Bruce had miscalculated the scale of the threat they were facing.
Whatever had warded Jason must be touchy enough to dislike any form of questions, and powerful enough to have its displeasure matter. And if it would be able to detect the questions being asked…
Contrary to popular opinions, Bruce did know how to temper his investigative instincts when called for. People only had to ask.
And.
Impress on him. A few times. That they meant it.
Honestly if they just told him why and what to expect, set some limitations and boundaries, it wasn’t like he was unreasonable. He just liked to verify data through his own sources.
Justice League Dark were a perfectly reputable source when he had to involve himself with magic. He could cross reference things between other members if he needed to check Constantine’s intel.
The unfortunate fact of the matter seemed to be that however little Bruce liked it, he did now need to learn more about magic. He’d been content to leave it to the experts for as long as he could, but…
But it now concerned one of his children. His second son, the one he’d lost.
At the very least, he needed to understand enough about the Infinite Realms to know how to keep Jason safe. What he would need, if there was anything they should be doing for him.
Not that the JL Dark had bothered to let him know when they thought Jason was a revenant. That might have been nice, even if apparently he wasn’t.
He’d already planned to start with Constantine’s attached reading on the Infinite Realms, and the Ghost King in particular for his new researches.
(Just the thought sent a shiver down his spine, and Bruce stepped into the zeta tube a little faster than necessary. Was that his oath? On just the thought?)
He could get information on these specific wards too. Cross reference with Zatanna when she was available. Perhaps contact Dr Fate.
The Justice League Dark had their own sections of both reference materials and secured artefacts in various bases around the world.
Studying those should be a sufficient compromise; he wouldn’t reach out to the Infinite Realms directly, not until the Anti-Ecto Acts had been dealt with.
Then they could get in touch with Jason’s mysterious doctor, provided he was willing. Have the dismantling of the acts as a show of good faith.
He’d have to ask Constantine about a sufficient apology too. And mention the acts themselves; somehow there just hadn’t been time today.
Stepping out into the Watchtower, Bruce was maybe just possibly anticipating the magician’s reaction, in a dark way. Let someone else have a bad day for a change.
The poor man had been so upset with the idea that Bruce might ask questions about the realms. The fact that the United States had declared a kill order on all its occupants was not going to go over well.
And all that sass and defensive aggression could be pointed at someone other than Bruce for a while.
Actually? He should wait until Constantine was sitting down. He could add it to his meeting notes, bring it up to the whole League at once.
There would be someone on site if the magician actually fainted.
Or if Bruce’s head actually exploded.
Bruce made a mental note to check their medical supplies and defences, in case there were any unpredictable reactions. He could swing by the infirmary before they got started.
Giving Constantine a quick parting nod, he turned away from the hall and walked quickly towards the infirmary. Just to check in.
Today’s meeting was just the Justice League, with Constantine as the sole representative of JL Dark; Dark’s members all seemed to know about the Infinite Realms and Amity Park already. They didn’t need the briefing.
They’d have to read Bruce’s meeting notes now though. The same ones he was fully aware most members of the League just ignored, considered wasteful paperwork.
They expected to be told directly if something was important. As if he had all the time in the world, and they had no personal responsibility.
The lights thrummed softly as he walked, all the little noises of the satellite’s systems ticking over in perfect order helping Bruce settle into his purpose.
Jason’s report had been thorough, and though Bruce could easily see the bias around his son’s words… in this case it was more than justified.
The wording used to describe Jason and others like him in the acts contained less expletives, but were no better. The veneer of detachment only made the disdain shine through more clearly.
As if his son were beneath contempt. If Jason were to be believed (and Bruce would confirm with Constantine and Shazam) then most of his family were ecto-contaminated.
It was almost nice to have a tangible problem to solve. An enemy he could face and defeat in simple, easy manoeuvres. It was unlikely to be a physical fight, but that hardly mattered.
The delicate machinations of politics were better left to Wonder Woman, Aquaman, damn near anyone but Batman. No, Bruce Wayne was far more influential in that arena.
A little money in the right places, press coverage, a big “himbo with a heart of gold” performance. They weren’t his preferred weapons, but he knew they were effective.
And for Jason, there was nothing at all he wouldn’t do.
Purpose and the time limit combined hastened his step, his cloak billowing around him as he stalked the halls of the Watchtower. The infirmary was empty; always good.
Their stocks were full, and there were three nurses on duty that Bruce had personally selected. He trusted all of them, and none looked worried at his visit.
Batman was well known for overpreparing. It always came in useful.
He was just making his way back towards the meeting hall, feeling markedly better himself with a firm goal in mind, when Superman rounded the corner ahead of him.
The man of steel was heading his way, worry writ large on his face. If he’d heard Bruce’s talk with Harley… actually, if he’d been able to overhear Constantine’s talk with Jason, that would be very useful.
Bruce prepared a few brief words to reassure his friend as succinctly as possible, and get them both moving back towards the meeting. They could actually talk afterwards.
He never got to say them. Superman ignored his little nod of greeting and hurried up to him, standing close enough that they couldn’t be overheard. Blocking Bruce’s path.
A thrum of dread wormed its way back into Bruce’s heart as he looked up into his friend’s earnest, deep blue eyes.
Clark kept his voice low, urgent and concerned as he whispered five words that shattered the world.
“Bruce? I can’t hear Jason’s heart.”
—————————
😈
Now quick, for extra bonus points, who can name what was supposed to happen at some point in the last two chapters and didn’t? This is your chance for a treat from the beginning of the next chapter
Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 2 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer er @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @perfectwastelandcreation n @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna a @alcorbearson @asphyxia778 @why-must-i-be-like-this @tkiesai @greenpyrowolf @frivolous-pastel @honeysuckletook
Next chapter!
#danny fenton dead and loving it#dp x dc#dead on main ship#danny x jason#chapter 15#i’ll take the highway#the highway to heeeeeeeeeell/The Ghost Zone#anyway rip to bruce wayne but i would simply not tell my son he can’t have nice things#i’m just built different#so is harley#and she has a bat#and a bat-shaped problem#fuck i’m so looking forward to the start of the next chapter it’s a joke i’ve been waiting on for months#hint: sam#dpxdc#dc x dp#dcxdp
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They're Injured
Masterlist
Joker:
Joker was always being hunted, shot at, and chased in car chases. Yes, you were always with him, and it technically was your job to sacrifice your life for his if it eventually came to such a point, but Mr. J had switched the roles. A gunfight had broken out in Mr. J's club. You'd repeated yourself at least ten times, yelling at Mr. J to get him to either leave or get down. Instead, he managed to switch roles and send you rolling under a table to watch him get shot in the shoulder. It goes to say that you were as pissed as you were worried, seeing that your greeting to him later was a sharp punch to the stomach followed by a passionate kiss.
Captain Boomerang:
Digger was used to being in the line of fire, and was less than worried when he took a shot to the leg in a less than pleasant robbery. You, on the other hand, upon discovery of his wild adventure and injury, panicked in the most subtle way possible. Unfortunately, subtle in your dictionary was drive over to his house at 2am, kick down the door, scold him, and then proceed to break down crying.
Deadshot:
In his line of work it was not unusual for him to be hunted in return, as was the occasional "battle-wound". You, on the other hand, found yourself worrying more than you should've. Death was a difficult enemy of mortals, not you, therefore you were entitled to the worry and fear that accompanied the blossoming of your relationship. Needless to say, you had him on a house lock-in for quite some time after his shoulder had been shot clean through. (snuggles were very much included)
El Diablo:
Injuries in battle were hard to avoid, as were near death experiences. You watched in horror as Chato shoved the ancient being towards the location of a lethally powerful charge. When it went off, you were nowhere to be found for a good few seconds. The team was confused until they heard you sobbing from behind the blasted ground, cradling an unconscious, severely injured, but alive Chato.
Killer Croc:
Waylon, bruised an battered after the battle with Enchantress, was pleasantly surprised when you body-slammed/bear-hugged him to near death. You'd never been so worried in your entire life, and although the injuries he sustained were little, your entire being was telling you he was gonna die. It was hard to explain that he was okay through your mix of blubbering and cursing.
Harley Quinn:
When Harleen freed you from your solitary-confinement room, she was not herself. You were happy to see her, but the joy was quickly overrun with worry when you spotted the two burn marks on either side of her temple left behind by what you knew was electroshock. Concerned, you questioned her like an officer would a criminal until she gave out and let you tend to her wounds before fleeing the cursed institution(no regrets there).
June Moone:
June's well being meant everything to you, any moment you felt she was in danger you try your hardest to keep her from it. But mental damage was something you could not fight, or shoot. June was tormented nightly by the dangerous being using her as a vessel, and it broke you to know that you could not do anything about it. Instead, you did your best to comfort her: held her close, calmed her with kisses, and gave her the love she needed to mend her broken soul. With your love, June felt the power to face anything.
Enchantress:
The mortal soldier held your love's heart in his hands, threatening to crush everything you loved for something he loved. When she refused, your eyes flashed with panic. The soldier began to crush her heart, causing her to shriek with unbelievable pain. Terrified of losing the only person who saw you as a blessing, you snatched the heart from the soldier in a bolt of light. In the flash of light, time slowed around you, giving you just enough time to sway Enchantress' spirit from the human girls body and into one you summoned from your own power. You and your lover backed away from the mortal and his human lover, happy to be safe.
Next
#suicide squad x reader#suicide squad preferences#joker x reader#joker suicide squad#joker#harley quinn x reader#harley quinn#deadshot x reader#deadshot#enchantress x reader#enchantress dc#enchantress#june moone x reader#diablo suicide squad#diablo x reader#killer croc x reader#killer croc dc#captain boomerang x reader#digger harkness#captain boomerang#rick flag#suicide squad#va-3
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Just read Robin & Batman by Jeff Lemire with art by Dustin Nguyen so heres an extremely long review (unasked for) because I have so many thoughts (spoiler warning)
I really loved the relationship and personal growth for both Dick and Bruce that they showed across just 3 issues.
I know we've all become accustomed to slice of life batdad but starting out emo boy Bruce Wayne was just looking for a soldier and I think this story is where he really starts to learn how to be a father. He makes some clear missteps like invading Dick's privacy by reading his journal but he was just trying to do something nice for Dick. It's interesting to still see both of them as humans who are making mistakes and it's nice to see how that changes across the issues.
But you can see sooooooo clearly that he is trying to be a dad, even if it's in his weird loner edgelord ways. He makes sure to give Dick the best birthday possible by introducing him to his peers at the Justice League, as well as their sidekicks who would be soon to become the first iteration of the Teen Titans in #2 which was probably my favorite issue of the limited series. Overall it's a very sweet issue until the twist towards the end where it's revealed that it was actually secretly a recon mission
Just the dichotomy of Bruce Wayne trying to be a normal person and also The Batman and that reflecting on Dick is really interesting. Especially while simultaneously Alfred is there to provide more of that fatherly presence, despite Dick ultimately wanting it to come from Bruce.
And, of course, in the end after their big fight with Killer Croc they have their big moment where Dick really comes into his own and fully becomes Robin. UGH SO GOOD. It's where we see the clearest moment of Bruce's growth, and Dick realizing he doesn't need to be like Bruce he needs to be by himself. Sidenote, I did think Waylon's character in this was really interesting. I'm not sure if he's normally part of Haly's Circus but him having a personal grudge against Dick for making him feel isolated just makes him more menacing. ALSO THE PARALLELS. Part of me fully expected the end result to actually be Dick solving the problem without his fists but oh well. Overall great series with lots of amazing moments!!
#dc comics#dcu#batman#batfamily#dc universe#superman#jla#jlu#op robin#robin#batman and robin#dick grayson#bruce wayne#wonder woman#robin and batman#teen titans#kid flash#wally west#killer croc#speedy#roy harper#wonder girl#donna troy#aqualad#garth#spoilers
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I'm a firm defender of Arkham being terrible. The worst place on Earth. This place is clearly making everyone worse.
Give me Jonathan Crane loving how cruel and lax one could get with the "patients" at Arkham as he tested his toxin only for him to realize that the same "treatment" would be gave to him as he is finally caught by Batman. Jonathan who was one of the doctors who signed authorizing eletroshock "therapy" because he didn't care either way only for years later see himself being dragged to the eletroconvoulsive room.
Give me Harvey Dent trying to use his lawyer knowledge to protect himself and his friends by mentioning how solitary confinament against mentally ill people is not allowed on the state of New Jersey only for the guards/doctors to smile cruely and say "oh but this isn't solitary confinament it is *insert buzzword for solitary confinament that makes it legal*"(and yes prisons do that irl).
Harley painfully trying to explain both as doctor and as patient that inhumane treatment of inmates was scietifically proven to only make them more violent only to be ignored because "don't the guards deserve revenge" or some similar bullshit.
Ivvy who just wants her plants. Who gets physically sick when she can't get close to the green. But she can't have even sunshine because they specially discriminate against metahumans. And what if she uses her powers? Same for Music Maister except is worse because it is his voice! They even take Freezes suit away the first times but when they realize he will just die he just gets an special room that is basically temperature zero solitary but don't worry is for his own good.
All while doing human experimentation with Clayface because he is a meta anyway and honestly does he even count as human? And of course let's not forget Killer Croc that gets to be arrested in a cell on the fucking sewers. Yes it does not have basic sanitation whatsoever and yes Waylon deserves better.
Jervis who gets punished for daring saying they have no respect for the human mind. And King Tut who is mocked for his delusions instead of helped in any way.
Joker who spends more time in solitary than with actual people to the point is very likely that he was actually sane before Arkham and just an evil clown.
Riddler who spends most of his stay just drugged out of his mind because he talks to much and both the nurses and the guards find him annoying and isn't the silence best for everyone? And if him (or anyone who is reciving too much medication or the wrong meds) gets an addiction, well is not their problem.
And of course the more important part: Bruce who has no clue what is happening until Joan Leland enters the picture and contacts him for help because it doesn't matter if they are all criminals they are people and she is going to do her job (and Bruce Wayne is the only donor that cares). Cue to an horrifyied Bruce questioning his former stance on crime and getting ready to help make Gotham a place were rehabilitation is truly possible.
#arkham asylum#arkham is bedlam#arkham makes the rogues worse#bruce wayne#batman#scarecrow#poison ivvy#music meister#mr freeze#clayface#killer croc#madhatter#king tut#joker#riddler#joan leland#Two-Face#cw prison abuse#cw dehumanization#cw medical abuse#bruce is not able to single handed change the system#it takes time and a lot of people and to have a rich famous guy does help but like all systemic change is hard#and is only Arkham#yes Bruce won't stop at Arkham on his advocacy for a better prision system but that takes a lot of work
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Leather and Lace (Killer Croc x Chubby Reader)
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Waylon Jones had never expected to be treated like a human again. That was until he met you. Now he will do anything in his power to protect you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hey guys, I'm back at it again. I've always loved the idea of 'monsters' healing through care and affection. So I put our lovely boy Killer Croc into the spot light. I hope you enjoy.
Also, the 20th fanfiction will be a bit longer, not sure how long yet. But I have big plans for it.
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Smiling at the security guard, you made your way through the metal detector. Only to groan as the man stopped you. “It didn't even beep Hank. I have appointments to make.”
He gave a lecherous grin as he tapped your hip with his night stick. “Well, it is within my rights to randomly pat down any visitor.”
“Coming from another department hardly constitutes me being a visitor.” Spreading your legs, you hoped this would be quick.
“Just consider yourself an exception then, nurse.” He breathed down your neck.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cursing yourself, you sped to the solitary wing. That jerk had taken his time ‘patting’ you down. If you could call his thorough inspection that. No matter how many times you reported him you got the same answer. ‘We’ll look into it miss, but it would be better if you could work it out amongst yourselves’. Yet another excuse from Arkham to not keep their guards in line.
But as you thought of the patient you were heading to visit, your smile returned. Waylon Jones, aka Killer Croc, though he seemed to be the most humane ones here. If his treatment of you had any say in the matter.
The reason you even needed to see him was a violation all its own. He was beaten pretty badly and you were the only nurse brave enough to treat him. That was fine with you though, he was by far your best patient.
His cell was in an area a bit more isolated, but so were most of Arkham's most dangerous. As you came to the entrance, your badge was waved in front of a sensor. Stepping in you noticed that the guards had chained him to the bed. It was yet another standard procedure you didn’t approve of.
“Hello Mr. Jones. How are you feeling today.”
At the sound of your voice he lifted his head and sat up. “A lot better now that your here, Chere.” The smirk that crossed his face was almost more than you could bare. Who knew a crocodile man could be so charming.
Setting your go bag next to him, you gave him a visual once over. His wounds seemed to be healing well, with no visable infection. “Ok, shirt off.”
“Doesn't dinner usually come first.” His ‘complaint' was followed with him doing as you asked. He took the minor distraction as a chance to look you over. Never in his wildest dreams would he ever have imagine you. Being a new transfer, he was surprised at your attitude towards him. Most people always had a clear gleam of fear in their eyes when looking at him. Not you though.
Headstrong and full of determination. There wasn't a person that could stop you from trying to help someone in need. Though your personality was a big plus in his book. He could also gaze at you any time and not get tired of what he was seeing. Honestly, they should lock you away for how well your plush body filled out your scrubs. Forget the naughty nurse outfit, he didn't need to put you in anything but your uniform in his fantasies.
As you ran your warm, soft hands along his back. He couldn't help the shiver that ran through him. Think that he was cold, you moved to your bag. “Get dressed, the last thing I need is my most tolerable patient getting sick on top of injured.”
His smirk softened into a smile. “Aw Chere, i didn’t know you cared that much.” Sliding his shirt on gingerly, so as not to disturb his bruises. He was shocked to see you holding a jacket in his face.
“Of course I do. Now take this, it’s ridiculous that they don’t give you more layers. Do they not understand that you tend to be more cold blooded?” You huffed and straightened your bag, before slinging it over your shoulder.
This was exactly the kind of thing you did that drove him crazy. You knew things about him that no one else took the time to learn. He watched as you left the room, making sure to bid him a goodnight.
Putting the jacket on, it was a bit snug, but not so tight that one wrong move would cause it to rip. As he relaxed in his cot only for a lovely smell to take over his senses. Shifting the collar to his nose, your scent engulfed him. You were literally the type of person to give, someone like him, the clothing off your back.
He almost didn’t mind the shit that Hank put him through. If it meant that he got more time with you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Later that week, you took the familiar route to Waylon's cell. A bit more pep in your step. You didn't have the usual run in with Hank, at the check security check point.
Scanning over your medical bag, you were surprised to see a guard outside of the cell you were assigned to. As you got closer, a frown settled on your face. Of course it was Hank, you couldn’t get a single shift away from this guy.
“Hank. Can I ask why your at my patient's door.” You hoped that the direct question may result in a quick conversation. Though seeing the pissed off expression on his face, you knew it wouldn't be that simple.
“I’m here to find out why that trash has contraband.” His scowl deepened as he threw a familiar jacket at you.
Scrunching your face in indignation you said. “How can a jacket be contraband. It doesn’t even have a zipper.”
He took a step closer to you. “How would you know that?”
Rolling your eyes, you shook your head in disbelief. “He was cold during a recent check up. I gave it to him so he wouldn't get sick. It’s not my fault this place doesn’t care for it’s occupants.” Moving to step around him, you were surprised when he grabbed your arm.
“These people are scum. Sent here to rot until they die. Some deserve to just disappear all together.” His grip tightening the more hateful words that spilled out.
Getting as close as you felt necessary, your glare attempted to penetrate him. “While that may be your opinion, I find it to be quite the ignorant veiw. These people were sent here in hopes of bettering themselves. The staff are expected to help them on that path. But it seem some employees that aren’t suited for the task, have slipped through.“ You tried to wretch your arm free. Only to find that his hold had become achingly strong. Working to not let panic set in, you discreetly shuffled you hand into your medical bag.
“Well maybe if bitches like you would stop leading nice guys on. All while they were cozying up to monsters. I wouldn't have to do this.”
In one swift moment several dominos fell. He struck you across the face. While he paused to take in your reaction, you stabbed his cheeks with a scalpel. Before he could cry out, the cell door behind you both blew open. Where Waylon, who had heard everything, leapt from.
He descended upon the guard. At first he was seeing red from his rage. Then his body became red with the blood of the man who had dared to harm you. It wasn’t until you touched him that he came back to reality.
The alarms were blaring, so you had to raise your voice for him to understand you. “You have to get out of here.” Shoving the jacket in his arms, you pushed him towards a staff exit. “I’ll cover for you. Just get to this address.”
He looked down to what you were shoving into his hands. Your staff badge and license sat in his palms. Looking back at you in disbelief, he was at a loss for words. So he acted instead, bringing you in for a long passionate kiss. “Meet me there?”
You gave him a breathless nod and smiled. “Of course.”
#batman#chubby reader#killer croc#chubby reader x killer croc#blood#violence#flirting#mutual pining#medical#asylum
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I'm currently working on an Outlast/Left 4 Dead crossover with Miles, Chris, Waylon and Eddie in one team. Blaire will also join them, at least for a while.
Eddie is trying his best to fix Waylon's dress until it'll eventually fall apart and he's forced (jk Waylon is so glad to be finally out of that dress) to change into his asylum potato sack. Maybe Eddie will also finally find some shoes for Waylon. He really needs them and Eddie can't just keep carrying him around the whole time.
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@marvelmaniac715 I just had an idea of what if the original people that lived on the Hatchetfield island were the ones who worshipped the Lords and the Waylons and Starry church married into the practices. Oh and you @notanerdyprude
And the reason the world didn't end for those people was they had a bunch of safety measures and rules in place and many rituals. Things that were lost when the hatchet men came and destroyed things.
And the black book is all that survived.
Gonna do a read more so people aren't discouraged from reblogging. Please do reblog I spent a long time typing and thinking this out. You guys can use this idea if you credit me!
I've been thinking about it. Like the life drain spell originally having been a sharing spell. Where a group would spread out the giving up of a few years for one person, greatly extending their life without massively impact a single other life. Or those close to the end giving up their last years for someone they love.
Maybe the trees growing from human souls, used to be a burial ritual. Where those who so chose would be buried to provide fruit for their families for years to come. And their leaves would change to the color of the respective Lord they followed when they wanted to be cut down and released from the tree. And they helped keep the power of the gift in the woods to make it more likely for the people who live there to get the gift. They weren't trapping the gift away from people, it was a blanket to encourage more gift given kids.
The reason everything grows so well is it was originally infused with the souls of willing people who wanted to provide for their people. And now the woods are full of trapped souls and fruit doesn't grow. Plants grow, but the trees refuse to fruit because why would they want to? You killed those people and planted them unwillingly.
The reason the Lords weren't able to take over the world was these people knew the risks and kept them from having total power. Like a minimum amount of people taking part in a ritual to spread out the wear on one's body. Maybe Pokotho's uniting force was used as a way to help empower and work to finish projects quickly as a group.
Nibilinephem and the harvest was a sacrifice, but not yearly. It was during droughts and the one willing to step up gave up their life so that everyone else could live. Not for wealth but say a lacking material, or something simple, like the rain. Maybe stronger building materials. It could also just have been a bad thing.
Bliklotep was called on to see visions of the future, or to see the world outside the island and learn from what other groups of people across the world were doing. They could pick and choose to make a missmash of technological items that best suited their needs. (Maybe something that CCRP has been trying to continue doing to make more money?)
T'noy karaxis could speed up time which is just very helpful. Or maybe he wasn't a very popular choice anyways and he was just obsessed with a different man who he trapped all the time. Or since he's outside of time he honestly could have just been torturing Ted since forever. He doesn't seem to bother other people until you call on him. Unless you're his Teddy Bear.
Wiggog'ywrath feels like he'd be called on for protection. A powerful God to protect the island. Of course it would be easy for his power to corrupt the user. That's why any time he was summoned there was a requirement of a certain minimum of people taking part to spread the influence out and keep it from concentrating into a big freaking problem.
It seems Webby was already forgotten but part of me likes the idea that she was the go between for the Lords and the people, or she was worshipped by a small pocket of people. She wasn't very powerful, but she was kind, and she didn't need as many regulations on summoning her. She could help keep the bindings of the magic on the people, strengthen their connection to the powers.
And then the hatchet men killed the Starry children and anyone connected to it. They destroyed most of the literature and rituals.
And the book, with what was left, no longer had all those safety measures. People got greedy. The sharing spell became a vampiric stealing ritual.
And now...
Now the Lords could have unrestricted access to Hatchetfield, and then the world started ending.
Tada!!! Please, please reblog this I've been thinking about it a lot and I spent a really long time coming up with this idea. You are allowed to use it if you want just credit that I came up with the initial idea.
Like I've been thinking that this had to come from somewhere. There had to be some reason that the Lords in Black didn't end the world much earlier in the timeline.
#shine post#starkid npmd#starkid theory#starkid lords in black#lords in black#the lords in black#LiB#starkid wiggly#tickle me wiggly#wiggly#wiggog y'wrath#bliklotep#blinky#nibbly#nibblenephim#starkid tinky#tinky#tnoy karaxis#pokotho#pokey starkid#pokey#starkid webby#webby#black book#the waylons#the hatchetfield series#hatchetverse#hatchetfield#starkid show#starkid
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Next to Me(Emmett Cullen)
Chapter 6: people talk
Table of contents
“Hey buddy” I said as Owen aggressively threw his backpack in the back seat and slumped his body in the front seat. “Hey, you okay?”
“Fine, perfectly fine” he said in an nonreassuring voice. He smiled and nodded trying to convince me but it wasn't. “You can talk to me, ya know?”
He sighed and just looked at me with tired eyes. “Schools just not like the one back at home…they all just stare at me like i'm gonna burst or something”
I sighed and started the car. I felt terrible. It's not like he's treated badly but he gets unwanted looks of petty. “It can only get better”
He snorted like he didn’t believe me. His hard expression then softened as he looked at me. “How was your day, by the way?”
I nodded. “Today wasn’t bad…a lot of people already knew about me and bella”
Owen nodded. “Small town, understandable” Owen looked at me as I continued. “Ran into Tyler and made a few new friends”
Owen raised his eyebrows and his mouth arched into a smirk. “Ooo, Tyler, you know he likes you right?” Owen teased. I shoved his shoulder making him slide closer to the passenger door.
“He's like another brother, alright?” I chuckled as I pulled into town and headed for the diner. Despite my cooking skills, Owen and I were used to eating at the diner a lot. But honestly it was just easier than doing dishes.
“Fine, fine, whatever you say” Owen smirked. I rolled my eyes and pulled into the parking lot next to Charlie's police cruiser. Surprisingly bella beat us… actually it wasn’t, I don't drive fast anymore.
“There you guys are” Charlie said as me and Owen sat down in the booth across from him and bella. “How was school you guys?”
“Good,” I replied. “Alright I guess” Owen added.
After a few minutes of small talk our waitress Cora brought our dinner. Charlie and Bella had steak and me and Owen had Rubens.
“I can't get over how grown up you two girls are, you both are so gorgeous” Croa smiled. I smiled back at the woman who used to be best friends with my mother. She then turned to Owen and smiled. “And you look more and more like your dad everyday” Owen sadly smiled and looked down at his food.
Next was an old friend of Charlie whose name was Waylon. He came over and greeted Bella with a smile. “Hey Bella, you remember me? I played santa one year”
“Nice to see you, Waylon,” I smiled. It was so different now. When me and Owen showed up the greeting from everyone was sad and comforting but then we Bella showed up and the welcomings was alive and bright, even if she didn’t remember them.
“Yeah, Waylon, she hasn’t had a Christmas here since she was four,” Charlie said. That was 100% true but me and Owen on the other hand spent every christmas here before we moved here permanently.
“Well when you're done I'll bring your favorite berry cobbler, remember? These three have it every time they come here” Cora smiled at Bella.
“Thanks,” Owen smiled.
“You guys eat here every night?” Bella asked, surprised.
“Easier than doing dishes but we don't eat here every night, y/n does a lot of cooking” Owen said more defensively than he really needed too.
“Well i guess i need to do it way more since Bella’s home” i said sarcastically.
Uncle Charlie changed the subject quickly as something popped in his head. “Do you guys make any friends? How's Tyler?”
“He's good, we have a couple classes together” i said putting ketchup on my fries then handing it to Owen.
“We've met a few new people,” Bella nodded. Owen stayed quiet not wanting to talk about school but he just smiled and listened to stories of everyone eles day.
“Hey uncle Charlie, you know the Cullen family right?” I asked before Bella could. Charlie sighed and put his drink back on the table. “Are people talking about them again?”
“Kinda… I have a few classes with them, they seem nice” I said.
“Just ‘cause they’re newcomers..” Charlie said. “We're lucky to have a surgeon like Dr. Cullen at our potluck hospital. Lucky his wife wanted to live in a small town and their kids aren't little hell raisers like we have around here”
“Oo-kay,” Bella said, looking at me weirdly. Charlie sighed and looked at the three of us. “I just don't like narrow mindedness”
“Yeah, people shouldn’t judge them before they get to know them…they're probably really cool people” Owen smiled.
“Yeah I have Emmett Cullen in a couple of my classes and he seems really nice… same with Alice and Edward” I said and Bella shot me a look full of jealousy at the mention of Edward’s name. I just ignored her and we finished our food in silence except for the occasional conversation between Owen and Charlie about allowance.
--------( ....... )--------
“How's school? Want to come to the Rez yet?” my other cousin Sam asked on the other end of the phone. I laughed and closed my biology book so I could lay in bed.
“Honestly, Forks high isn't that bad” I laughed as I put him on speaker phone so I could get ready for the night. “Everyone is very…welcoming”
“Oh boy” he said sarcastically. It went quet for a bit, i debated on asking about the treaty and after awhile i got the courge to ask.
“Can I ask you a question about the treaty, sammy?”
“What's up?” he asked. I cleared my throat and spoke. “So i know the Cullens aren't supposed to be on our land but, is there any by-law that says i cant hang out with them at school?”
Sam sighed on the other end of the phone. “Why would you want to hang out with them?” he asked. I rolled my eyes. “‘Casue they're nice and i made friends with a few of the them, is that bad?”
“Truthfully I want you to stay away from them but, I cant stop you but i will say this” he said. “Be careful and don't let them come on our land”
I nodded. “I will…promise”
“Good, now get some sleep, okay?”
I smiled. “Okay, good night”
After that i fell asleep despite the feeling of protective eyes watching me.
<Next chapter>
#Emmett cullen#Emmett cullen story#Emmett cullen x reader#Emmett cullen imagines#Twilight#New moon#Eclipse#Breaking dawn#Charlie swan#Charlie swan x reader#Bella swan x reader#Bella swan#Edward cullen#Edward cullen x reader#Carlisle cullen#Carlisle cullen x reader#Esme cullen#Esme cullen x reader#Rosalie Hale#Rosalie Hale x reader#Jasper Hale#Jasper Hale x reader#Alice cullen#Alice cullen x reader#The vampire diaries#Stefan salvatore#Damon Salvatore#The wolf pack#The wolf pack x reader#Sam uley
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i was thinking about a concept for Waylon Jones/Killer croc with a Arkham Asylum intern who respects him and only wants to help him, even with his appearance. Could you do it?
I can try, kept it general. Darling acts as a psychologist.
Yandere! Waylon Jones/Killer Croc with Arkham Asylum Intern! Darling
Pairing: Romantic/Platonic
Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Murder, Blood, Kidnapping implied, Trauma, Possessive behavior.
His backstory fits this type of darling so well.
Waylon hasn't experienced much, if any at all, respect due to his appearance since he was young.
He never really expected that to change while he grew up.
He was seen as a monster, so he must be a monster.
He always treated others with aggression, giving into his role.
It was getting difficult to give him treatment in the asylum.
Even with the muzzle, cuffs, and other restraints... he still acted violent.
Waylon was unwilling to listen to reason.
Then they brought in a fresh face, a new intern trying to learn their craft.
Your first encounter started like all the others.
He glares at you from his restraints while you come in with that stupid clipboard.
He snarls, acts like how society sees him.
However... you're rather patient.
"I can't blame you for feeling this way. From what I heard... your history with people is poor due to their judgement."
He scoffs, playing it off like you didn't affect him.
"Are you mocking me?"
"Why would I mock you? I know how cruel people can be. They just don't understand you."
"What makes you think you understand me?"
"Maybe not yet... but I plan to."
Waylon acts like you don't connect with him.
Although it really is hard to hide the excitement that's visible when he sees you.
He perks up when the door opens, even more if he heard you behind it.
You can tell he's more relaxed when you talk with him.
He doesn't like talking about his past, but you encourage him.
You try not to be physical with him due to his strength and size.
One time out of habit you put your hand to his scaley skin, he then flinched back and snarled.
Last time you did that, unfortunately for him.
Your comforting touch really made him yearn.
It doesn't matter if he sees you romantically or just as someone to cling to, you become the best therapy he could ever have.
The downside was you made him want to break out more now-
Only with you did he feel some sort of tranquility.
It irks him that he can't properly delve into your care.
You see him as a patient... while he wishes he could hold you and take in your warmth.
Things become an issue when he's let out. (most likely by another inmate, like Joker)
Maybe you're in the building, maybe not, either way he's going to hunt you down.
He doesn't care who he has to tear apart to find you, he will.
You haven't convinced him he isn't a monster, no.
You've just made him believe you care for him, even as a monster.
Then you surely must know him being covered in blood while blocking you in a corner is expected, right?
You should've know what you were getting into.
"What's wrong, doctor? Expected the monster to change so fast?"
He may be gentle towards you, but others aren't so lucky.
Like an animal, he's possessive of you.
He appreciates you trying to help.
Now he doesn't want to let you go.
You're fearful, in tears, all while scaled arms hold you to his chest.
Blood seeps into your hair and clothing... deep growls rumbling against your back.
He never takes his eyes off you.
If anyone comes in and tries to take you from his claws, he roars.
You try to warn them;
Don't come any closer!
But you can't stop Waylon launching off you, ripping into the supposed threat.
Waylon, who you thought your treatment worked on, was now covered in blood and staring at you.
His stare holding such psychotic care.
He promises he'll treat you as well as you did him.
Sure... you may be living in the sewer with him, yet it doesn't matter.
He cares for you...
He'd kill for you...
He'd be a monster if it meant keeping you.
"Come on, doc... I thought you understood me?"
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More of One of my Nerdy Prudes Must Die Concepts/AUs
So a while ago I made this post, and since then, more thoughts and ideas have come to mind! Thank you to my friends for giving me the courage to share my thoughts.
Note: I just wanted to say again that this concept takes place in a timeline where Max either chooses not to be a bully or chooses to become a better person post Waylon Place, and as a result, is a bit nicer, and has befriended the Nerdy Prudes gang. They’ve also graduated and are in college.
First things first I wanted to share my thoughts on how I think some of the characters found out about hypnosis in the first place!
Richie definitely saw someone getting put under in an anime or read about it in a manga at some point and decided "Huh, I could do that." or "I'd wanna do that." He’s probably been trying his hand at it since he was a little kid, and maybe his family humored him, but in reality it was just a game of pretend. However, once he got to high school, he actually started doing research.
Pete and Ruth probably found out that it was more than just a movie/tv show kind of thing from Richie during their childhood.
Max found out about it through a HFHS event: they got a stage hypnotist to come in, and Max saw the show along with the other seniors. Something in his brain went “Hmmmm…” and when the hypnotist asked for another volunteer from the crowd to help him with the next part of his act, Max found himself raising his hand. Helping the hypnotist out made him realize that there are ways he could help people while still fulfilling his own need for order and control (because even if he’s not a bully or has gone through a redemption arc, he’d still have that need).
Steph also found out about it through the stage hypnotist, but Richie probably told her it was more than just a stage thing at lunch one day. Grace would have also heard that conversation.
Most of the NP squad aren’t interested in being the hypnotist. The only ones who do actually take a full on interest in that role are Richie and Max. Pete and Steph would only be the hypnotist if one of their friends asked; Steph doesn’t really believe in it, but if one of her friends said “Hey, I’ve been really stressed and I think this might help. Would you help me with this?” I think she would do it. Same goes for Pete. But even then, it would take a lot of researching before either one would be willing to attempt it.
Now that we’ve established that, here are some characters that I think would work well together!
Hypnotist!Richie and Subject!Ruth: I definitely think Ruth would trust Richie as a hypnotist enough to let him help her over the hurdle of letting go and getting out of her head. I also think they'd do some improv/acting exercises with it to help Ruth improve on her acting and get over her stage fright. It could involve him acting as a stage hypnotist (because Richie would get into that performative aspect) and she’s coming up in front of the audience, or maybe while she’s under they just go through a monologue or scene. Either way, Richie would reassure her that she’s doing great. I think Ruth would probably ask him to cuddle at some point, and he’d oblige. Cue the cuteness.
Hypnotist!Pete and Subject!Richie. Pete would only be doing this because Richie asked him to, and he wants to help his best friend out. He would definitely feel kind of goofy at the beginning of the induction, but as he goes along he starts to build up some confidence and by the time Richie's under, Pete is completely serious. Richie would probably ask for cuddles, and I can see fluff ensuing.
Hypnotist!Richie and Subject!Pete. Even though Pete is nervous and feels a little silly asking, like Ruth, he trusts Richie enough to help him get out of his head for a bit. I think he’d also ask for cuddles once under because he just wants to relax. Again, cue the cuteness.
Hypnotist!Steph and Subject!Max. Like Pete, Steph likely would not do this unless asked (and it'd take some convincing), but I think Max truly would let himself be vulnerable around her. I think he trusts her, and would let go if she was the one putting him under. And all he’d want to do is take a breather from everyone’s expectations of him and lower that invincible front that he puts up.
Hypnotist!Steph and Subject!Pete. This would only be if Pete asked, and again, would take some convincing and a lot of research. Pete would probably have to reassure her that this is what he wants and he believes in her. I think he'd definitely trust her enough that he'd get out of his head...but considering his feelings for her, he may actually have trouble getting out of his head cause his mind might be racing. I do think eventually though he’d relax and fluff would ensue.
Hypnotist!Max and Subject!Richie. I think it’d be interesting to see since they’re the ones I have the most thoughts about for this AU/concept. They’re the ones who would be the most interested in the topic and the most performative. And if they had that trust and friendship from the start or built up that trust, it could be interesting, since one is the one who enjoys playing the hypnotist role the most, and the other is the one who goes under the easiest.
Hypnotist!Richie and Subject!Max. This would be an interesting role reversal to see as well. I think Richie would find it a fun challenge since Max isn't so easily hypnotized. However, I don't think he'd get Max under in the end and if he did...well, it would take a good long while. It’d be interesting to see what could happen if they had that friendship and trust from the start or ended up building up that trust.
Now here are some headcanons I’ve come up with:
If Richie is the hypnotist and either Pete or Ruth are the subject, I think he uses something Star Wars related. He spins Pete’s kyber crystal (that they all like to fidget with) around with his fingers and has them watch as it catches the light. Maybe if he does a trigger, he includes the Jedi Mind Trick wave as part of it.
Going off of that last bit, Pete and Ruth have gotten into debates about whether that counts as the Jedi Mind Trick, or just as hypnotism. Pete’s stance is "No he just implemented a trigger to repeat what he said back to him after he waved his hand." and Ruth’s stance is "Hell yeah, the Jedi Mind Trick is real."
Additionally, Richie found that he liked fidgeting with the kyber crystal and so he ended up buying himself a kyber crystal necklace so he could fidget with it. He wears it all the time but it's under all of his layers, so no one except him actually knows it’s there.
Not only did he choose the kyber crystal because it’s Star Wars, but because he figured Pete and Ruth would want something that wasn’t as flashy and in their face. He figured picking something that they fidget with would be more of a comfort to them and would be something that would gently grab their attention but not make them over analyze things.
Once as a fun thing when the group was hanging out (although it was discussed beforehand and Max just didn't give away that he was planning on making it anime related) Max put Richie under and made him think his name was the same as his favorite anime character for a little bit. Everyone got a kick out of that.
Even though Max mainly wants to keep the focus on him during inductions, occasionally he'll pull out a watch or pull up a spiral for Richie cause that is his friend and Richie likes those types of inductions and Max wants to see his face light up.
Someone came up with a football themed induction to try and put Max under that involved watching a spinning football. Max found it funny so he borrows it from time to time.
#hatchetfield#nerdy prudes must die#npmd#richie lipschitz#pete spankoffski#ruth fleming#stephanie lauter#max jagerman#my au#i speak
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Ah, WIP Wednesday, all the energy I was missing for this fic has come back with a bang
Just little snacks for y’all today though, just in case it doesn’t carry through. And if it does, well, you’ll get the next chapter all the sooner! 😁
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I’ll Take The Highway
Time was almost slipping away too quickly in the milkshake bar, and Danny wished he didn’t have to keep an eye on it.
(Well. Seriously hoped. Even in the privacy of his head, he couldn’t make it a wish.)
He had to get Tucker back to MIT though, and back to Gotham in a reasonable time frame to get to bed before class tomorrow.
If he got to bed before midnight, there might be a chance for he and Jason to run to the Far Frozen in the morning. Or after, Danny’s classes didn’t run late. Or…
He was missing out on the fun today, trying to plan tomorrow. Much as Jazz would love him being more organised, he pushed it to the back of his mind.
They’d visit Frostbite soon. And find out how Jason’s core was, though Danny was beginning to think he knew. Here, when Jason was happy and relaxed? Not tensed, shut down, or angry?
Danny could definitely feel something he hadn’t before. Not exactly the same as another ghost, or any of the other halfas, not yet.
But it was almost like Box Lunch’s fresh core seen through a house of mirrors.
Maybe that was what had him so close to the edge today? It was taking some pretty serious effort not to react to even the mention of an old threat to Jason.
Jason, the sweet baby ghost.
And if his smile was a little sappy at that thought, well, that was no one’s business but his own. At least he had something to sit on for when his rogues started embarrassing baby stories.
Finally he couldn’t put it off anymore. Too much to do, friends to fly across country, and he still hadn’t found a good way to ask. He just… well.
He’d given Jason all the server info, the stuff about who his rogues were, how he beat them, the things they’d learned about the Infinite Realms. They’d even shared some stories around different bits.
That didn’t exactly explain what he wanted to ask Waylon about. And it really wasn’t something he was comfortable sharing just yet, even if he already knew it was dumb.
Jason was a good guy. Who hung out with Batman, who was apparently an asshole. He wouldn’t judge Danny for having some dark and fucked up stories in all the zany ones.
Fuck, maybe Waylon could tell him how Jason would react. It was gonna come up, it’d have to, and Danny really would feel better having someone else’s opinion.
He was reluctant to interrupt their good time, another story devolving into laughter, but it was getting into the afternoon and… well, he also had no idea how long this would take.
“Hey, uh, by the way. I’ve gotta head out in a bit, dropping Tuck back off in Massachusetts, I just wanted to talk to Waylon for a minute first? In private?” Because if Danny had learned one thing?
Direct worked best.
It worked now, Harley nodding along and hopping up, cartwheeling her way along the table and out of the booth.
“Say no more, Danno! C’mon, Jayjay, I wanted ta catch up with you on somethin’ too, so this works perfectly!” She declared cheerfully, giving Jason a fond tug to his fluffy white streak of hair.
Jason shot Danny a look that was half commiserating, half curious as he slid out of the both after her, but Danny was too busy staring into an imagined hellscape where Harley met Jack Fenton.
Fuck Dan, the world couldn’t handle that.
By the time he came back to himself, he and Waylon were alone in the booth, the big man watching him curiously.
“So, what’s on yer mind, kid?” He asked in a low voice, folding his arms on the edge of the table and leaning in.
Secret villain hideaway or not, this wasn’t something Danny wanted just anyone overhearing, so he beckoned Waylon closer to his end of the booth first, tucked into the wall.
The big guy slid his way surprisingly delicately down the seat, then leaned in again, watching Danny expectantly.
Which was when Danny realised he shoulda probably thought about a good way to put this.
Blunt it was gonna have to be.
“So… you… Harley said people called you Killer Croc before you ever hurt anyone?” He said in a rush, flinching at how bad it actually sounded said aloud.
Waylon… did not have eyebrows to raise, and it was really fucking weird that he was noticing that now, but it was definitely what he’d been doing, and Danny was distracting himself again.
“They did,” Waylon agreed a moment later, his voice low and even. Guard up, but not defensive. Not closing the topic off.
Danny huffed out a sigh, and found he couldn’t quite meet the man’s eyes. Found himself intently examining the diamond pattern on the formica tables. His own hands, twisting in front of him over that pattern.
“You… you became what they said you were. A monster.” The words caught in his throat, hard to spit out and shit he thought he was past this.
It had been years.
A scaled green hand covered his, and Danny found himself surprised by how smooth the scales were. Far from soft, but not rough. Almost smoother than the table.
“Who called you a monster, kid?” Waylon asked softly, his voice gruff with something too close to understanding.
Danny’s head snapped up and he shook it quickly, sucking in a deep breath.
“Oh, no one. Not for like, a really long time now. And they said sorry and everything, it’s not that. It’s… you gave into it. Let them make you something wrong and dangerous, and you stopped. How did you stop?” He asked quietly, finally finding it easier to look at Waylon’s face.
He looked surprised.
——————
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#dp x dc#danny fenton dead and loving it#wip wednesday#tentative title: i’ll take the highway#as in ‘my way or the highway’#bruce’s way obviously#danny time friendos
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