#maybe I’ll get a WIP out today | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

The average Tumblr user visits about 67 pages every month.

#maybe I’ll get a WIP out today

physalian · 3 months

Text

You don’t have to pay for that fancy worldbuilding program

As mentioned in this post about writing with executive dysfunction, if one of your reasons to keep procrastinating on starting your book is not being able to afford something like World Anvil or Campfire, I’m here to tell you those programs are a luxury, not a necessity: Enter Google Suite (not sponsored but gosh I wish).

MS Office offers more processing power and more fine-tuning, but Office is expensive and only autosaves to OneDrive, and I have a perfectly healthy grudge against OneDrive for failing to sync and losing 19k words of a WIP that I never got back.

Google’s sync has never failed me, and the Google apps (at least for iPhone) aren’t nearly as buggy and clunky as Microsoft’s. So today I’m outlining the system I used for my upcoming fantasy novel with all the helpful pictures and diagrams. Maybe this won’t work for you, maybe you have something else, and that’s okay! I refuse to pay for what I can get legally for free and sometimes Google’s simplicity is to its benefit.

The biggest downside is that you have to manually input and update your data, but as someone who loves organizing and made all these willingly and for fun, I don’t mind.

So. Let’s start with Google Sheets.

The Character Cheat Sheet:

I organized it this way for several reasons:

I can easily see which characters belong to which factions and how many I have named and have to keep up with for each faction

All names are in alphabetical order so when I have to come up with a new name, I can look at my list and pick a letter or a string of sounds I haven’t used as often (and then ignore it and start 8 names with A).

The strikethrough feature lets me keep track of which characters I kill off (yes, I changed it, so this remains spoiler-free)

It’s an easy place to go instead of scrolling up and down an entire manuscript for names I’ve forgotten, with every named character, however minor their role, all in one spot

Also on this page are spare names I’ll see randomly in other media (commercials, movie end credits, etc) and can add easily from my phone before I forget

Also on this page are my summary, my elevator pitch, and important character beats I could otherwise easily mess up, it helps stay consistent

*I also have on here not pictured an age timeline for all my vampires so I keep track of who’s older than who and how well I’ve staggered their ages relative to important events, but it’s made in Photoshop and too much of a pain to censor and add here

On other tabs, I keep track of location names, deities, made-up vocabulary and definitions, and my chapter word count.

The Word Count Guide:

*3/30 Edit to update this chart to its full glory. Column 3 is a cumulative count. Most of what I write breaks 100k and it's fun watching the word count rise until it boils over.

This is the most frustrating to update manually, especially if you don’t have separate docs for each chapter, but it really helps me stay consistent with chapter lengths and the formula for calculating the average and rising totals is super basic.

Not that all your chapters have to be uniform, but if you care about that, this little chart is a fantastic visualizer.

If you have multiple narrators, and this book does, you can also keep track of how many POVs each narrator has, and how spread out they are. I didn’t do that for this book since it’s not an ensemble team and matters less, but I did for my sci-fi WIP, pictured below.

As I was writing that one, I had “scripted” the chapters before going back and writing out all the glorious narrative, and updated the symbols from “scripted” to “finished” accordingly.

I also have a pie chart that I had to make manually on a convoluted iPhone app to color coordinate specifically the way I wanted to easily tell who narrates the most out of the cast, and who needs more representation.

—

Google Docs

Can’t show you much here unfortunately but I’d like to take an aside to talk about my “scene bits” docs.

It’s what it says on the tin, an entire doc all labeled with different heading styles with blurbs for each scene I want to include at some point in the book so I can hop around easily. Whether they make it into the manuscript or not, all practice is good practice and I like to keep old ideas because they might be useful in unsuspecting ways later.

Separate from that, I keep most of my deleted scenes and scene chunks for, again, possible use later in a “deleted scenes” doc, all labeled accordingly.

When I designed my alien language for the sci-fi series, I created a Word doc dictionary and my own "translation" matrix, for easy look-up or word generation whenever I needed it (do y'all want a breakdown for creating foreign languages? It's so fun).

Normally, as with my sci-fi series, I have an entire doc filled with character sheets and important details, I just… didn’t do that for this book. But the point is—you can still make those for free on any word processing software, you don’t need fancy gadgets.

—

I hope this helps anyone struggling! It doesn’t have to be fancy. It doesn’t have to be expensive. Everything I made here, minus the aforementioned timeline and pie chart, was done with basic excel skills and the paint bucket tool. I imagine this can be applicable to games, comics, what have you, it knows no bounds!

Now you have one less excuse to sit down and start writing.

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #writing #writeblr #organizing your book #outlining #shut up and write the book #google sheets #google docs

916 notes · View notes

wosoamazing · 4 months

Text

Broken

Summary: You break your ankle and Alexia takes care of you.

Warnings: Broken ankle, hospital & surgery, vomit (once)

A/N: I hope you like this, I'm trying to get a heap of my WIPs done, while I still have time. Also to those anons with the new requests I've added them to the WIPs.

It was the 25th minute when you found yourself tumbling to the ground from a badly timed tackle a Lyon defender played, you clutched at your ankle, trying to suppress your cries as you laid on the pitch.

“Y/N, are you okay? I’m really sorry,” a familiar voice said as they rubbed your back trying to reassure you, the ref hadn’t stopped play yet, but that didn’t stop her from checking on you. Eventually the ref blew the whistle.

“Number 12, I’d like to speak to you please,” you heard the ref say as the hand that rested on your back left, it was very quickly replaced by another though.

“Y/N, are you okay? What’s wrong?” Aitana asked you.

“Ankle, broken,” you managed to spit out, trying to hold back the tears that choked you.

The medics took one look at your ankle and decided it was most definitely broken, you refused the stretcher and so they helped you to the medical room, where an ambulance stretcher was awaiting you, you were helped up onto it and your ankle was placed in one of the weird orange puffy things to protect it, the paramedics spoke to your team’s physios filling out all the medical information and history forms.

“Bebita,” Alexia said as she flung open the door, her voice laced with concern, “are you okay,” you broke at her words, the flood gates came crashing down, tears streamed out of your eyes and all you could do was slightly shake your head in response to her question, she quickly moved to your side and held your head to her chest, as she rubbed your back, “I’m here for you Bebita okay, you can stay with me for international break and for as long as you want after, I don’t mind at all, I’ll take care of you, it will be okay, you will get through this.”

____

You wake up from surgery and can hear your sister’s voice, saying something about getting on a plane, the words I’ll just miss international break cause you to return to reality and speak up ever so quickly.

“No Leah, you aren’t giving up international break. Go, I will not let you not go. I will call Sarina personally if I need to. Alexia said she would look after me and that I could stay with her for as long as I want, even once Lucy and Kiera come back, I will be fine.” Alexia smiled and took Leah off speaker but kept talking, you fell asleep again.

“I went to help Kiera and Lucy pack for you and got you some clothes to wear, they’re going to discharge you soon,” Alexia told you as she walked into the room, noticing you were awake again, you nod at her.

“Do you want help getting change?”

“Um, maybe” you said hesitantly. She just kindly smiled as she grabbed a pair of your shorts from the bag, carefully placing your casted leg in before you helped put your good leg in, she pulled them up to your knees and you did the rest.

“Put this on, I’ll turn around,” she said as she handed you a crop top, she was sifting for something in the bag while you put on the crop top.

She turned back around when you told her you were done, hiding whatever she was trying to find in the bag behind her back, before looking at you with a grin “I thought you might want this one today,” she said as she held up an arsenal hoodie for you to wear, it wasn’t just any arsenal hoodie though, it was your special number 6 hoodie that Leah had given you when you left, it was her favourite one too. You smiled gratefully at her, feeling very loved and taken care of in that moment. Mapi and Ingrid then walked in ready to take you home, Alexia sat in the back seat with you, she held your hand the whole ride.

Alexia’s house was large and quite fancy, Mapi and Ingrid led the way as Alexia stayed behind you making sure you didn’t fall behind, she helped you up the stairs and all three girls help get your situated in the spare room, placing anything you may want within reach, before they left, leaving you to sleep.

____

You woke up and needed to pee, you shuffled to the side of the bed, and carefully reached for your crutches, you brought them to your side, before going to take one in either hand to stand up. You didn’t have as stable a grip on them as you thought, and they went crashing to the ground, hitting your cast causing a wave of pain to flow through your ankle and a wave of tears to fall from your eyes. You then heard the sound of panicked rushed footsteps approaching before your door was flung open.

“Bebita, what happened?” Alexia said as she rushed to your side, bending down so she was level with you.

“I tried to get up and go to the toilet, but my crutch fell and hit my cast. I’m sorry”

“There is nothing to be sorry for Bebita, do you want me to help you to the bathroom,” you nod embarrassed. “Okay,” she said as she picked up the crutches and leant them against the wall, then placed her hands under your arms before she helped you stand up and handed you your crutches, she followed close behind you as you slowly made your way to the bathroom, and stood by the door encase you need her help.

“Ale,” you shyly said. “Sí,” she replied cautiously. “Could you maybe please possibly help me stand while I wash my hands, and maybe also please flush.”

“Of course, Bebita, do you want me to come in now?”

“Yes please” you felt embarrassed needing help to do such simple tasks but Alexia was being super sweet, a side of her that you had always been met by, she was very kind to all your teammates and cared for them all, but there was something extra soft about how she acted towards you, always giving you that little bit extra. The team clearly could see that she held a soft spot in her heart for you. Some thought (cough cough Mapi) it might be because you remind her of her younger self and she was not welcomed with much kindness, love and understanding, meaning she would always push herself too far and she didn't want this for you, however others thought she just saw you as a little sister more so than a younger teammate, either way you didn't mind.

“Would you like to come downstairs and sit on the couch for a bit? I think Olga is making some food if you want. But only if you feel up to it and want to, of course.”

“Um, yes please” she nodded her head and walked with you to the top of the stairs, you looked down them, and they suddenly looked very daunting, and seemed like a mammoth task, maybe you just wanted to stay upstairs after all.

“Do you want me to carry you down?” it was as if she could read your mind, you nodded hesitantly before she picked you up and carried you downstairs, you leant against the wall as she quickly went up and got your crutches.

“Hauria de trobar que el nostre joc de crosses faria la vida més fàcil” (I should find our set of crutches, would make life easier) she mumbled to herself as she walked down the stairs.

“Yes, it would,” you said as you smirked at her. She was caught off guard, surprised at how quick you were able to interpret her Catalan, she had been teaching you for only a short while.

“Very good Bebita, go sit on the couch, I’ll just go get some things for you.”

You made your way into the living room, to find that the corner seat of the couch had been set up for you, there were many pillows, some blankets and even your plush ladybug, that the arsenal team got for you, you barely ever had it out and had only ever spoken to Alexia about it once, you felt warm inside knowing that alexia really truly did care about you. As you sat on the couch you noticed that on the coffee table there was a bottle of pain meds, a sick bowl, and a sheet with instructions on it, some parts were highlighted. You picked up the sheet and saw that the first highlighted section said that the pain meds may cause nausea and vomiting, which explained the sick bowl, there were also lots of other boring things you couldn’t be bothered to read.

Alexia came back with your apple ecosystem, placing it down on the coffee table, before she quickly rushed off to the kitchen with your water bottle. You heard her ask Olga if she needed help while she was in there who said no. She came back with your full water bottle. “Ale, can you sit with me please?” you asked her, as she looked like she was about to go away again, she smiled kindly and sat down next to you. You rested your head on her shoulder as you lent into her side, she placed one of her arms around you.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, she didn’t respond but placed a kiss on top of your head.

A few minutes later Olga brought you over a bowl of Paella, one of your new found favourite dishes. Alexia informed you that you needed to try and eat all of it so you could take your pain meds, that tasking wasn't going to be a difficult one. You were quite lively the first 15 minutes after dinner, however after 15 minutes you had quietened down, you lent into Alexia’s side, “Ale, I feel sick.”

“Do you feel like you’re going to be sick? Or do you just feel bad?”

“I don’t know,” you responded, sounding like you might cry, before you pushed your face into her side. Olga got up and placed the sick bowl and your water bottle next to Alexia on the couch, Alexia said a quiet thank you to her before she walked into the office.

“That’s okay, do you want to lie down?” you shook your head, she felt the slight moment against her side, “just let me know if you want or need anything okay” you just hummed in response.

Another 15 minutes had passed, with every minute you felt increasing bad, to the point that you thought you might actually be sick, so you sat up, and Alexia saw your expression out the corner of her eye, quickly grabbed the sick bowl before saying “It’s okay Bebita, if you need to be sick, be sick, it’s okay” and after a minute of deep breaths your started to loose the contents of your stomach. Alexia rubbed your back the whole time.

“’m sorry” you said, as small tears slowly rolled down your cheeks.

“It’s okay Bebita, it's not your fault. Do you feel better now?” she said as she still rubbed your back, holding the sick bowl still encase you needed to be sick. “I guess,”

Olga had heard the commotion from the office and had walked in with two wash clothes, she handed one to you and handed one to Alexia whilst she took the sick bowl from her, you wiped your face with the cloth before Olga took it back, you drank some water before you decided to lie down, resting your head in Alexia’s lap. Alexia put the cool wet washcloth Olga had handed her on the back of your neck and you hummed, the coolness feeling nice.

You fell asleep pretty quickly, Alexia decided not to move you, as it would be difficult but also because the wood floors would be a lot easier to clean than the carpet if you happened to suddenly be sick again during the night. So she shifted her position to lay behind you on her side, she wrapped her arm around you and pulled you closer, keeping her arm there so you didn't roll off the couch during the night. It was quite a large couch though so the chances of that were low.

Olga walked into the living room to suggest it was bedtime, when she saw the both of you sleeping, Alexia hugging you and you hugging your lady bug. Olga quickly took a photo to send to Leah before she turned the lamp on and the main light off, and went upstairs to her bed to sleep.

____

It was the night before the girls would return from international break, you were very much enjoying living with Alexia and Olga, and the dynamic seemed more free flowing than at Lucy and Kiera’s so you decided to jump the gun and ask Alexia if you could move in.

“Ale, you know how you said I could stay as long as I wanted, and how when I first came you offered for me to live with you? Um, well, I was just wondering if that offer still stands.”

“You want to move in?” She asked, checking that she understood you right.

“Um, well yeah, I think, only if that is okay with you and Olga of course, and you can say no.”

“Of course you can Bebita, I would love that.” She said before she pulled you in for a big hug.

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #barca femeni #barca femeni x reader #barcelona femeni

598 notes · View notes

bunny-rambles · 7 months

Note

Hi! I hope you're doing okay!

I have a request if you don't mind.

I go so silent when im owerwhelmed. To the rate its so hard for me talk. I wont be able to join to the conversation even if i really want to. At those days, i just need some cuddles and affection.

What if reader just comes back to home and the character is just laying on the couch and reader lays on top of then without saying anything, just listening to their heartbeat? Can i request it with scara, albedo, kazuha, venti and whoever you want to add?

Have a good day💕

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“I’m Here.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

characters; Scaramouche, Albedo, Venti, Kazuha, gn reader

cw/tw; talks of low mood and anxiety, hurt/comfort

word count; 500+ for each

notes; Hi, thank you so much for this request, sorry it took so long, it just takes forever to get my inspiration going nowadays. I hope you’re still here to enjoy this <3 it’s been stuck in wip hell but it’s finally here now, enjoy. (If some people want to, I’ll see if I can do a part 2 with some other characters. I’m thinking Wriothesley and Neuvillette. Let me know what you think.)

Please reblog if you like this!!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Scaramouche

“Hey, are you even listening?”

Tired eyes move up towards the small crowd of people around you, focusing on the unimpressed pair of eyes burning their gaze into you. Your hand is idly tapping your pen against the empty piece of paper in front of you, but it quickly stops the second you feel the suffocating feeling in your chest from your entire table watching your every move.

“Sorry.” You apologise quietly, only to turn your head away from your classmate, who just scoffs at your haphazard reply and continues on with whatever they were talking about, their jargon falling on deaf ears.

If you were being honest, you could care less about the topic of the conversation.

Today was just one of those days where you felt that heavy feeling in your head, that light fluttering in your stomach. It felt like something was wrong, but nothing had happened to make you like this. Nothing in the typical sense, anyway. No event to trigger such a reaction, not even a snide whisper about you that caught your attention - nothing. You just felt, to sum it up in one word, overwhelmed.

Silently, you slipped out of your seat and snuck away when the conversation had moved on from your strange behaviour, the feeling all consuming at this point. When you were alone, there was only one thought in your mind: find him.

There were a lot of people who didn’t even bother to try to find out his name, only giving him a simple nickname due to his peculiar style. But not you. No, you were the odd one out, the only one in the entire Akademiya who sought out the company of the sharp-tongued vagrant. Perhaps you were the only one who could understand the true meaning of his biting remarks, the only one who knew just how understanding he could be.

He wasn’t in the lecture today, or anywhere in the Akademiya. That wasn’t too much of an issue. He had told you where you could find him if you really needed him (‘or whatever’, you recall him mumbling as his violet eyes shied away from yours, rose blooming so delicately on his porcelain cheeks).

So your feet moved on their own, stumbling along until you came to a quiet opening in the surrounding mountains of Sumeru. And there he was, perched on the edge of the hill that was overlooking the scenery of the entire city - a silent protector. He looked serene, calm in the gentle glow of the sunbeams shining down on the peak of the rocky formation. Maybe it would be best not to disturb him - you couldn’t even remember the last time he looked so at peace with the world.

You took a step back. A branch snapped noisily under your foot, causing the wanderers head to whip around to face you. His brief look of surprise is quickly replaced with his usual look of indifference.

“Oh, it’s you.” He sounded bored, but not aggravated by your presence. This was a good sign for him. But when you didn’t respond, the blank look on his face shifted as he raised an eyebrow at your lack of response. “Well? Spit it out. What do you want?” He prompted again, albeit a little harshly.

But no matter how much you wanted to tell him why you were there, no words would leave your mouth. It was like your lips were just sealed shut.

Instead, you just sat down beside him, your fingers dancing with one another in your lap. Your lips moved, shaping the words that wanted to come out, but no sound accompanied them. A heavy sigh left your lips, already feeling defeated with not being able to do one simple thing right today.

Luckily, you didn’t need to. With an exhale of breath that matched your own, you heard the rustling of fabric by your side as the puppet opened his arms for you.

“Come here.” He ordered in a soft voice, his eyes avoiding your own. When you didn’t respond immediately, obviously in complete surprise with what you were witnessing, he grumbled something under his breath, too quiet for you to understand. Red began to bleed through his white skin, his teeth gritting together before he spoke again. “I don’t have all day. Now come here before I change my mind.”

Soon, his arms were around you, wrapping you up in his comforting embrace when you finally shuffled towards him. And here, nothing could hurt you, not while all you had to focus on was his fingers rubbing deep, comforting circles in your back. His chin rested atop of your head, mainly to hide the gentleness present in his features as he held you close to his chest. If only he had a heart, just so you could listen to the gentle pounding of it against his chest whenever he touched you. Instead, you heard a soft breeze right next to your ear, flowing in time with the pulsing light of his vision with each time his chest raised to take a breath.

There were no words exchanged between the two of you, only the sweet sounds of birds chirping, and that same gentle breeze that surrounded the both of you while you stayed in one another's arms.

Venti

The door swung open with a loud crash against the wall, a cheerful laugh accompanying the startling sound. “Oh, Windblume! Are you home?” The melodic voice of the bard sang out through his shared home of his partner.

Silence.

This did not deter him, however, as he hummed a quiet tune to himself as he set the freshly picked apples along large bottle of dandelion wine on the table, his hands going to his hips as he listened for the tell-tale sound of your soft footsteps or the sweet cadence of your voice. But once again, the young man was met with an eerie quietness.

“Huh. Guess they’re not home.” Viridescent eyes scan their surroundings before landing on a small note hidden away in the corner of the room, neatly placed on the very desk you had been working at so tirelessly these past few days.

‘At Windrise.’

Oh. So it was one of those days. No matter, he knew exactly what to do when you weren’t feeling your best. After quickly grabbing a couple of apples from the large bag he had carried home, he was already on his way to come find you.

And find you he did, sat alone underneath the towering tree with your head in your hands, looking devoid of any positive emotions. Even in the embrace of the winds of freedom, you still felt tied down from the thoughts swarming in your head. The gentle wind around you playfully tussled your hair, but it did very little to quell the storm raging inside of you, its thunder petrifying. There was a rustle above you in the leaves of the great tree, a few fluttering down to gently graze against your cheeks, like nature's soft kisses. And then a head emerged from them, a wide smile on the owner's face.

“Hello there!” Venti greeted with his signature wink, his twin tails swaying in the wind, his forehead exposed from hanging upside down from the branch. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, your hand reaching out to carefully pull a few stray leaves out of his hair. He swung himself with his legs to press a kiss against your cheek, an airy laugh coming from him before he finally hopped down to take his place next to you. “I brought you something, but it might be a little bruised now.”

The bard giggled sheepishly before pulling out one of the apples he had grabbed earlier, throwing it up in the air for you to catch. Your hands cradled the ripe fruit, treating it as a precious treasure before you brought it up to your lips for a bite. A sigh left your lips from the sweet taste coating your tastebuds, the flavour almost sinful. But how could it be with the god who gave it to you right by your side? No, this was heavenly. Paradise was in your hand, and you couldn’t help but take another bite, showing off a thankful smile towards your partner who was already tucking into his own.

You expected him to speak, to fill the air with jokes or light hearted chatter. However, the only thing that made any noise right now was the petals of the nearby asters and the tweeting of songbirds. The archon beside you was quiet, waiting for you to speak first. And if you didn’t feel up to talking, that was okay too. He was going to be by your side, no matter how you felt. Much like the wind he commanded, he would always be with you, even on your bad days. No words were exchanged between the two of you. Instead, your head leaned closer to his until your cheek was pressed up against his shoulder, a deep sigh leaving your lips. But this time, it was filled with content instead of your previous anxiety. Venti’s hand that wasn’t holding his own apple gently cradled your head, his fingers lightly threading through your soft hair.

“My dear Windblume, you’ve worked so hard.” He finally spoke, his soft cheek resting lightly against the top of your head, like the softest of feathers.

“Don’t be afraid… I’m here.”

Kazuha

It had been a long day.

A fight with the endless stacks of paper at your desk had left you feeling drained, the walls of your bedroom feeling almost like a prison instead of a sanctuary for dreams and comfort. Your hands trembled as you re-read the few scarce sentences that you had managed to write down, only for them to curl into tight fists around the delicate piece of paper. What does it matter? It barely made sense anyway.

You needed out of this room. Shaky legs pulled your body out of your solitude, into the fresh air and tall grass that brushed against the back of your legs. You weren’t quite sure what led you to this meadow. Perhaps it was just an inexplicable pull you felt that was dragging you towards something more enchanting than the dull surroundings of a desk and barely functioning pen - something more warm, more comforting.

There, sitting in the middle of this peaceful field of flowers, he sat.

Eyes closed, with a serene smile painted on his gentle face, his silvery wisps of hair blowing softly in the winds - much like the swaying stalks of emerald around him. And once those eyes fluttered open to reveal the rubies underneath, you could feel the very air in your throat catch. That smile you admired only widened when his gaze set on you.

“Fancy seeing you here. Care to join me?” Kazuha spoke, his bandaged hand extended towards your own. You felt guilty intruding on such a peaceful moment like this, but when he was looking at you like that, inviting you to spend time with him… Well, how could you possibly refuse? Your hand connected with his own, a gentle tug leading to you seating yourself next to him. Instead of letting go of your hand, or letting his touch linger on your skin for a moment, he interlocked his fingers with your own. His side brushed against your own, your smile slowly but surely mirroring his own curled lips. Silence curled its invisible arms around the two of you, wrapping you up in comforting tranquillity, only found with the closest of companions.

A soft exhale left the man beside you, his body leaning backwards to lay against the ground, his gaze fixated on the clouds above.

“Here.” He whispers, patting the space underneath you to encourage you to join him. “Lay with me. Let your troubles float away with the drifting clouds.”

Carefully, you also laid back, with your hand still intertwined with his own and your other one resting on top of your stomach.

It wasn’t long before you found yourself under his arm, nestled up against his side with your cheek pressing up gently against his chest. His fingers gently began to run through your hair, his movements idle, his soul at peace - as well as yours.

“You don’t have to talk about what is troubling you, dove. But if you ever need to talk to me, or perhaps, if you just want me to be with you - then you need only ask.” The wandering prince spoke, his soothing movements unchanging. “Or just come find me if you feel like you can’t. Your presence is never a bother.” He chuckles softly, holding you closer to his side, his head leaning against your own.

“I promise… You’ll never have to go through anything alone, as long as I’m by your side.”

Albedo

The gentle clinking of glass echoes around the room as a solitary alchemist works in silence. Concentration is etched onto his porcelain face, his lips drawn in a straight line as his gaze fixates on the bubbling liquid inside the flask he was holding in a gentle grasp. He raises an eyebrow, however, when a figure starts to form in the reflection. In the distorted mirroring of the glass, he could make out a pair of saddened eyes staring longingly at him, yet silence persisted in the room. He blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t just hallucinating - hours alone with various fumes and chemicals did have those side effects, after all. When he concluded he was in fact not deluding himself, he lowered the container carefully and turned around to face the one who had been waiting patiently behind him to finish analysing the results of his experiments.

This was a sight he wasn’t unfamiliar with. It wasn’t the first time he had seen you look so downcast. But rarely did you ever seek him out during these moods of yours, especially while he was working. This was… Unusual. It must’ve been quite serious.

He waited for you to speak, to tell him whatever was on your mind, but no words came. Instead, your eyes refused to meet his own, almost as if you were guilty for disturbing him or bothering him with your presence. But to Albedo, you could never be a bother - your very existence filled him with elation, even if he seldom expressed that notion towards you with words. At least his actions told you otherwise.

“Is there something I can help you with?” He inquired carefully, making sure not to push you too much. Your mouth opened and closed a few times, a few stutters of some quiet words he couldn’t quite make out. He glanced back to his makeshift workshop for a moment before his cerulean eyes locked with your own glassy ones. Deft fingers moved towards the bunsen burner, switching the contraption off before they moved to cup your chin, tilting your head up so your eyes locked once more. He hummed inquisitively, wondering why you looked so upset. But, no matter. If you were here, surely he could be of some use, even if you were unwilling to share what was troubling you.

“Perhaps it’s time for a break.” The blonde declared thoughtfully before intertwining his fingers with your own, guiding you out of the laboratory and into a more peaceful area of the Favonius headquarters. Once inside, he led you over to a large couch, gesturing for you to sit down before he joined you. He cleared his throat awkwardly while opening his arms to you. “I’ve heard that physical contact and affection relieves stress.” He stated, his eyes flitting away from you for a few fleeting seconds. “Would you perhaps like a hug?”

Hesitantly, he shifted closer when he noticed you were doing the same before taking you into his arms and cradling you to his chest. A shuddering breath left your lips as the warmth you had craved all day seeped through your skin, deep into your bones.

“Is… This okay?” The alchemist asks quietly, unsure. You nod against his chest, your own arms circling around his middle. His hold around you tightens. A gentle hand rests on top of your head, his other on your lower back, fingers idly tracing patterns against your back. The motion is calculated, an automatic action, as if he knew exactly what to do to soothe your worries just with his touch alone.

“I’m glad you found me and I’m glad I could help. Please, my darling, stay in my arms until you feel better.” Before you could even open your mouth to ask about his work, he continues, in a soft tone only reserved for you and his little sister. “No experiment or variable compares to the feeling of holding you like this. So please, allow me to indulge myself.”

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #venti x reader #barbatos x reader #albedo x reader #kazuha x reader #Genshin impact x gn reader

550 notes · View notes

watchyourbuck · 7 months

Note

Hi there! :)

For the writing prompts:

“W-who did this to you?”

Buck shouldn’t have shown up at Eddie’s door like this. Not today, not like this. But he has nowhere else to go.

His hand trembles before reaching forward, knocking once, maybe twice. It definitely slides down the wood after, and he has to support himself on the concrete wall to avoid hitting the floor.

Behind it, he can hear Eddie’s steps. He’s talking to someone on the phone, but it seems shallow. He thinks he’s about to hang up.

“Eddie-,” he tries to call, but his voice is faint and undetermined.

Please.

Please open the door.

Then it opens.

The scene in front of him is out of a horror movie. “Buck?” Eddie says, eyes wide, heart in his throat. His phone hits the tiles, a click ringing in his ear.

The man is showered in red. Blood that he can only assume is his going down his body and staining his clothes. He blinks. His lip is busted. Oh, dear god. His knuckles are- his wrist is broken.

“Help,” Buck says, and this is the day Eddie thanks his military training, because he’s able to catch Buck in his arms before he passes out.

It’s possibly hours later that he wakes up. He’s laying down on something, either a couch or a bed, and his head is heavy with pain. He tries lifting his arms but something is pinning him down. “E-Eddie,” he calls, unaware the subject of his need is sitting right in front of him.

“Who was it?”

His eyes adjust at the speed of slugs, and he has to force himself to sit up. He blinks until the world makes sense. “Eddie?”

There’s tears. Salty, whimsy, slow tears going down Eddie’s face, but he’s never looked less sad. Buck gulps. Eddie’s angry.

“Who did this to you?” he asks, breathing heavily. He’s sitting on a chair, legs spread and elbows on his knees. He’s covering his mouth with his fists, observing down Buck’s body.

He hesitates. “Eddie-,”

“Buck, for the love of god, who did this to you?”

This is his fault. After everything Eddie said, after all the things he warned him about. This is his fault.

He tries to move his wrists. One’s broken for sure, the other feels… twisted. He sighs, wondering if maybe he’s in less pain now that his receptors are going wild, focusing on too many alarms at once. “I-,” he starts, cutting himself off.

Eddie wastes no time. He rises from the chair and sinks back down, kneeling in front of Buck and grabbing his face with both hands.

Buck realizes he doesn’t know how to treat him now that he’s so incredibly… unglued.

“Tell me,” he pleads, but it’s an order. He knows him too well. This is the last lock before he unleashes a monster he hasn’t seen in years. “Tell me before I find out myself.”

Buck breathes, glancing down at Eddie’s lips. It’s only a moment he allows himself glory before spilling his guts with truth.

This is his fault.

“I told my dad about you.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Consider this my Wip Wednesday!

I’m very tempted to write a second part to this where Eddie confronts the Buckley parents. What does the crowd think? I’ll read u!!💗

tagged by @jamespearce9-1-1 @daffi-990 @hippolotamus @malewifediaz @wildlife4life @eddiebabygirldiaz @callmenewbie @jeeyuns & @thewolvesof1998 (haven’t been able to get to some of your works yet! but I will tonight, thank you!!💗✨)

also tagging @spagheddiediaz @housewifebuck @lover-of-mine @fortheloveofbuddie @evanbegins @smilingbuckley @giddyupbuck @cowboydiazes @try-set-me-on-fire @your-catfish-friend @honestlydarkprincess @honestlyeddie @disasterbuckdiaz @buckleyobsessed @mattsire @loserdiaz @wikiangela 🤍

174 notes · View notes

edensbuttercups · 1 year

Text

Social Battery - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x reader

A/N: This has been a wip for so long but it's finally here! I can only hope it's good, but yeah, I hope you enjoy 💕

Words: 4.4k

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Your steps echoed on the ground.

The hangar was empty apart from the man you had been looking for everywhere, and even if you still felt tense, you felt a little bit victorious too. “Can I talk to you?” you spoke to his back, knowing that he had heard you walked in, because how could he not, but not in the mood to walk the extra steps to face him or wait for him to turn around for you. “With me?” he asked, finally turning. He didn’t have to look so cute when he was confused, which was often, for some reason, and yet he always did. Eyebrows scrunched and lips tight, but kind eyes and a hand pointing at his face, to add a visual aid to his extremely complicated question. “Oh, Rooster? Sorry, I was looking for Hangman, the similarity with your eye colour, facial hair and fashion sense is so fucking similar, I must’ve gotten confused.” You spun on your heel, the question you had wanted to ask him bubbling away and leaving its space to anger, or frustration, or whatever the hell you were feeling, but you didn’t get far before he caught up to you, stopping you when his hand gently tugged on your arm. “Hey, hey, hey, sorry. Talk to me, what is it?” He had been lost in thought, and didn’t want to scare you away with his silliness.

He knew you had been looking for him, clear by the urgency with which you’d walked in, but he didn’t think you’d react that way. You contemplated not telling him about how you felt exhausted from people, how you needed a break, how you had almost snapped at Maverick earlier today because he had asked you if you had slept well, but his worried expression was something you couldn’t bear. “I… it’s nothing too serious, actually.” You saw his shoulders relax at your words, but his hold on you didn’t falter, and his expression softened only a bit, still wanting to know what was on your mind. “Serious or not, you came all the way here to talk to me, so c’mon.” he urged gently, a smile tugging softly at his lips. “Okay. Yeah. Okay. So.” Words were sometimes incredibly annoying, and you started to wish that you had thought more about what to say. “I’ve been feeling stressed because I’m always around people and I need time for myself and I was wondering if maybe I could spend a day or two in your dorm room if that doesn’t bother you?” If words barely came before, now they wouldn’t stop, amusing Rooster to no end while you were talking, needing a moment however to understand the mixture of them once you were finished. “My dorm?” “Yep. I know technically it’s not allowed, but if it’s okay with you I’ll sneak in, and I’ll barely make a noise, I promise.” “Oh, that’s not what’s worrying me, don’t worry. I was just wondering… I might sometimes be there.”

The two of you had spent time in his room, it wasn’t uncommon, occasional movie nights or simple evenings spent with a beer and some music, simply talking about life. And you had crashed there before, although it had never really been planned, just an accidental sorry-I-fell-asleep-while-you-were-talking type of thing. “I mean, yeah, it’s your room.” “So, when I’m not training, I’ll be there. And it’s Friday tomorrow so I guess tomorrow night I’ll be in later, and you could join us if you’d like, clearly, but-“ You shook your head, both to decline his offer - tomorrow just wouldn’t be a Hard Deck type of night, you were afraid - and to stop his words. “It really doesn’t matter when you get back, Rooster. Again, it’s your room.” “But you said you don’t want to be with people for a bit.” “Yeah, but you don’t count.” He didn’t know how to take that. He didn’t count as people? That felt oddly insulting, but he also sensed that you didn’t say that with any sort of malice. So...? “I… don’t count.” He repeated slowly, trying to get something out of you. “No.” “As people.” “Well, you certainly are a people.” You joked, shoving him lightly with a smile, already feeling better after talking to him. “I don’t think I understand.” He confessed, finally letting go of your arm so that he could scratch behind his neck. “Well… I mean, I don’t feel the need to get away from you.” The simple revelation had your cheeks burning, the words feeling a little too real as you pronounced them, but it was the truth.

You and Rooster had been friends for a while now, and not once had you felt the need to go away, his personality always adapting perfectly to yours and vice versa, easily reading your mood and knowing just when to speak more or less, when to crack more jokes, or cook, or sing you a song and pull you up to dance. It was an effortless friendship, and even in your worst moods he always knew how to pick you up. His expression softened at your words, looking down before meeting your eyes again, happy that you felt comfortable with him just as much as he did with you. “You know me. You get me. And I just feel good when I’m around you.” You added when he didn’t speak, feeling slightly unsure now that all that he was doing was staring at you.

He nodded, taking in your words and not allowing himself the time to dwell on them, the thoughts that would plague him acting as nothing but a distraction for the rest of the day if he did. He patted your back once before gently pushing you back out of the hangar, walking with you until you were both in the sun, one of your eyes closing as you turned to look at him, the sun shining down way too brightly to properly see him. “Go grab what you need. I’ll be waiting at my place, yeah?” There was a sort of intimacy in the way he asked, a simplicity and a promise to be there for you, any other things he had left to do for the day being swept away in favor of getting you settled in at his place and maybe spending time together, if so you desired.

-- Your bag had been mostly packed the night before, having already settled on leaving for a little while either way. Plan B would’ve been that of staying at a motel for a few nights, one not too far from here, but staying with Rooster was far better, both because it meant saving on the motel’s fees, and because you’d get to spend time with him while also recharge. You added the last few items in, some skincare products, a notebook, a book, your chargers and devices you had planned on bringing along and zipped your bag up, leaving a note by the door to say goodbye, even if you had already mentioned you’d be away for a few days and closed the door behind you, slowly making your way to Rooster’s place.

You were thankful when you got to his front door, the weight of your bag slowly starting to hurt your back.

He opened the door with a smile, welcoming you with a small hug.

“So, I’ve got snacks, there’s food in the fridge, so you can just help yourself to whatever. Now, I just was wondering, want me to leave, or…?” He asked, leaning against the couch as his eyes followed you. “No.” You replied with a chuckle, shaking your head as you walked to his bedroom, letting your bag fall to one side and picking out what you needed, leaving some of your products out so that you could place them in the bathroom later, as well as some comfy clothes you could wear around the house. “I might shower, if that’s okay, but then we could watch something together? Or play a board game, if you’d like.” You offered, knowing how much he enjoyed playing them, and even if they could take ages, you still enjoyed them with him, loving how his cheerful smile was contagious as he played and talked, his stories never getting old. “Of course. I left a t-shirt by the bed? Unless… you have your own.” He added with a chuckle, letting himself fall on the couch, not seeing how you put your own shirt to the side, picking his up instead, smiling at the gesture. “This will do! Thank you.” You hummed, grabbing all you needed and making your way to the bathroom, sending him a wink. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll be with you!” He hummed out a sure, one you didn’t hear as you close the door, slipping out of your clothes and into his shower, letting out a breath of relief when the warm water came in contact with your skin, the day’s, or week’s, tensions slipping away.

And there truly wasn’t anything easier. You put his shirt on, smiling at the comfort it brought you, the softness of it, the smell that was distinctly him, even if it lacked his cologne. When you stepped out of the bathroom, you found him sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone. He looked up when he heard you enter, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he gave you a small smile, looking away quickly before you could see the faint blush on his cheeks. "Ready to watch something? Or…" he asked, setting his phone down on the coffee table and gesturing towards the small bookshelf he had by the tv, your favourite board games all stashed there. You nodded, taking a seat beside him on the couch, “movie sounds good,” you hummed. He handed you the remote, letting you choose what to watch. You scrolled through Netflix for a few moments before settling on a comedy, wanting something light to watch, but also not wanting to concentrate on something, just wanting to relax.

As the movie played, you found yourself glancing over at him every so often, taking in his features. It was easy to be with him, his soft laughter contagious, his eyes looking at you at a particularly funny joke making you smile. You wondered when you’d admit, to yourself and to him, that maybe you wanted more than friendship.

But you pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the movie and trying to enjoy the moment. You laughed at the jokes, and he laughed with you, his hand brushing against yours on the couch. It was a small gesture, but it sent shivers down your spine.

He opened his eyes, taking in his room as he sighed, picking his phone up to check the time and letting out a silent groan. He turned to look at you when he felt you shift, first to wake and then to stretch, keeping his lips tightly sealed as he took you in. You felt his eyes on you, ignoring them as you allowed your body to catch up with your brain, waking up as his alarm finally went off. “What?” You finally mumbled when he didn’t say anything, his lips still shut but trying not to show his smile. “Was afraid you’d snap at me if I talked at this ungodly hour.” He whispered, this time not hiding his smile and grinning rather happily at you, a smile that you couldn’t help but mirror.

He looked a little too good for this early in the morning, his eyes looking at you so softly, hair ruffled and skin golden from all the time in the sun, and you couldn’t help but make a mental snapshot of this for future reference, whatever that would be.

And yeah, Bradley was an attractive man, it was impossible to not notice, but that didn’t change that 7am hadn’t even rolled by yet, and this man already looked that good. “Shut up.” You said after a while, thanking the darkness of the room for covering the blush that had started colouring your cheeks when you noticed just how long you had been staring at him, his smirk just growing, even if he wouldn’t tease you about it. “Okay.” He mimicked a zip closing his mouth, standing from the bed with a little bow. “Okay, no, don’t take that literally. I like your voice.” You muttered, sitting up a little better and rubbing your eyes, letting the revelation fall from your lips with no thought, too busy trying to not crawl back under the covers again.

You didn’t catch it, but he had given you a smile that held nothing but love at your comment, his cheeks now reddening too as he reached for his clothes, collecting all he needed for the day and placing it in one pile, then grabbing what he’d be wearing and holding on to it. “You know, you don’t have to stay up. Go back to sleep, okay?” It was nice, not waking up alone, even if he wanted to keep his routine quicker than usual, wanting to leave you your space and not impose. Or get back in bed with you, sleep for a little longer, make that distance between you a little less and maybe even hold you, just for a bit. It had happened only once or twice, that during movie night you’d end up falling asleep at one point, resting your head on his shoulder, his arm wrapping protectively around you, but it hadn’t happened many times, and he knew it couldn’t happen now. “I’ll wait until you go.” You looked up at him and smiled, one eye closed as you leaned against the wall, eyes still on him. Rooster nodded quickly, tightening the hold on his clothes. “I’ll go shower and then I’ll leave, yeah?” He said quickly, not even if you had said that he didn’t count with the whole getting exhausted of people, he still didn’t want to be overbearing. “Oh, sure, yeah.” You nodded, sending him a quick smile before he disappeared behind the bathroom door, leaving you to snuggle into his bed, careful not to fall asleep as you shifted lower, moving closer to the centre of the bed now that he had left it, settling your head between your pillow and his, the smell of his cologne clinging to the material and making you close your eyes as you breathed it in, letting your body relax in his bed.

Out of the shower and already dressed for the day, Rooster couldn’t help but smile when he saw you cuddled up into his bed again, and he had to resist the urge to climb in with you. He knew you wanted space, knew this was about you getting some, but that sentence, I don’t feel the need to get away from you, it just made him want to hold you, even if that was a line he knew he shouldn’t cross, no matter how deeply he wanted to. But, compromising with himself, he walked over, smoothing your hair down and smiling at you once more when you opened your eyes, expression warm as you looked up at him. “I’ll probably come back later, yeah? Before heading out to the Hard Deck?” He hummed, voice low as he spoke. “I’d like that, yeah.” You already knew you wouldn’t be heading out with him, preferring the calmness of being here, maybe picking a good movie or relaxing with a face mask, but you still were happy about the idea of him coming back to hang out with you, even if only for a little while. Rooster had his ways of just fitting well with you, and most times you hated that about him, like you were right now. Fingers combing through your hair, voice low to not disturb you, face close as he considered placing a kiss on your forehead. He was careful, and attentive, and funny, and flirty, and teasing, and kind, and it made you wonder how much longer you could go before you’d have to tell him how you felt, your feelings from him having started to shift a while ago now. You could take it, you thought, a simple friendship, if that’s what he wanted, but not knowing what his feelings were while also fitting so comfortably in his arms was proving a harder task each day. “I’ll see you later.” He finally hummed, kissing your forehead gently and moving away before he could spot your reaction, sending you a wave as he picked his things and walked out the door, leaving you alone in his apartment, in his bedroom, in his t-shirt.

You had ended up spending a few more hours in bed, basking in the sweet feeling of tranquility that washed over you every time you turned in bed, his smell, the softness of the sheets, the relief of not having to deal with other people for the day. By 10am you had gotten up and started making yourself breakfast. The rest of the day went by easily, between watching series and movies, catching up on reading, resting, playing, and simply doing nothing. The afternoon was slowly winding to an end when you heard footsteps approaching from outside, turning towards the door to greet your new roommate. “Good day?” You asked when he walked in, his frown softening when he saw you draped over his couch, facing him with a bright smile. It’s not that he had forgotten that you were there, quite the opposite actually, the thought never left his mind, but he hadn’t expected you to be so happy to see him, maybe. Or maybe it was just you. In his home, there for him, and it felt sweet, and domestic, almost. He could get used to this a little too easily, and it scared him. “Long day.” He finally answered, taking his boots off and stretching. “You?” “Oh, very good, yeah.” You replied, smiling at him. “Good. I'm glad to hear that.” He said, walking towards the kitchen to grab a drink. As he passed by you, you couldn't help but catch his scent, a mix of his cologne and the smell of the outdoors. It was intoxicating, and you found yourself wanting to get closer to him. As he rummaged through the fridge, you couldn't help but admire his broad shoulders and muscular arms. He was a handsome man, and you had always found him attractive, but he was your best friend, and that was all.

As he turned around, drink in hand, he caught you staring at him and raised an eyebrow. You quickly looked away, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Everything okay?” He asked, walking over to sit next to you on the couch. “Yeah, sorry. Just zoned out for a second.” You said, trying to play it cool. He chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. “You're cute when you're flustered.” “Oh, shut up.” You chuckled, walking over and playfully slapping his arm, reaching for a glass yourself. “I mean it.” He repeated, smirking. “Shush. So, Hard Deck tonight? Drinks with your sworn enemy Hangman?” you joked, knowing him and Hangman weren’t enemies in the slightest, had solved all their issues a few months ago.

–--

You stood when you heard the steps approaching the door, a smile on your face, knowing Rooster was bound to come home soon, judging by the 12am rule he had, always wanting to be at home by that time, in bed just a little while later, not wanting to risk messing up his body clock. “Roos?” You called, opening the door and standing by it, eyes widening when you spotted Hangman holding Rooster up, laughing as they walked, one of them clearly drunker than the other. “Sweetheart!” Hangman called happily when he noticed you, the beers consumed enveloping him in a comfortable buzz, his mind not even questioning why you were at Rooster’s place, or why you hadn’t been around all day, just accepting it with a smile, leading your new roommate back to you. “Good night?” You asked, arm sliding under Rooster’s, holding him up as you tried to support his weight, his arm protectively wrapping around you as his head rested on top of yours, dopey smile only visible by Hangman. “Very good! Rooster here drank a little more than planned, but good.” He said, reaching over to pat Rooster’s shoulder, laughing when he heard the man groan. “I’ll see you around? You’ll make sure he survives the night?” He asked with his signature smirk, hoping his job was done so he could crash on his own bed, having drank more than planned himself, too. “Yep, no worries. Go take care of yourself now, and yeah, see you soon!” You called as he walked down the path, walking slow and calculated steps to his own place, throwing you a thumbs up over his shoulder. You chuckled at the scene, closing the door behind you and Rooster and helping him towards the bed, doubting he’d stand back up if you walked him to the couch instead. He stood in his room, looking at you as you patted his shoulder, pointing to the bed. “Sit. I’ll get you some water.” You muttered, walking towards the kitchen and making quick work of pouring him some fresh water, trying to minimize the damage. “I’m so glad you asked to stay over.” He slurred slightly, letting his weight fall to the bed when you walked back, grabbing the glass of water from your hand and sipping on it, closing his eyes. “Because I take care of you when you’re drunk?” You asked playfully, grabbing the glass back, still half full, from the floor where he had placed it, knowing he’d knock it over if not. “No, ‘cause I love havin’ you around. And ‘cause you’re cute. And it’s nice to wake up next to you, better than I had imagined.” He said with a chuckle, looking up at you with big eyes before blushing, shaking his head at his own words. “Cute?” You asked, even if you were more curious about the waking up by your side part. “Yes. But no, I’ll shut up now.” He chuckled, grin dopey as he looked at you, laying down on the bed and pulling you down with him, his hand resting on your hip. You both were aware, even him, in his drunken state, that this was more than friendly touching, especially paired with his prior words, but neither of you minded it. You nodded, laughing softly and combing your fingers through his hair, pulling some stray strands back and watching amused as his eyes closed and he sighed contently. “I like that.” He whispered, opening his eyes again to look at you, too tired to properly keep them open. “I think it’s bedtime, big boy.” You whispered back, smiling as he closed his eyes, your touch not stopping, set on continuing until he was fast asleep, which didn’t seem would take long. “I can’t wait to wake up next to you again.” He hummed, eyes fluttering open for only one second, closing again when he saw you, as if he needed the certainty that you were still there, still real. “Goodnight.” You whispered, ignoring the blush on your cheeks and the quickening of your heart, fingers threading through his hair, his breathing soft and rhythmical, soon enough signalling his slumber. You peeled away from him, chuckling when he groaned at the loss, tiptoeing around his place until you found everything you could find against his hangover, sure that it would hit him in the morning.

You opened your eyes when you felt him shift, his groan waking you up more as you turned to look at him, his hand meeting his head as he held it, another pained groan being huffed out. “There’s painkillers and water on the bedside cabinet.” You whispered, closing your eyes again and feeling him move away, finally realizing just how close you were, just how he was holding you. Legs tangled, one of his hands still holding yours while the other slipped from your waist to stretch towards the side, finding the tablet and letting it fall into his mouth as he opened the bottle, the top of it already opened the night before, trying to make everything as smooth as possible.

As he swallowed the pill with a gulp of water, he turned back to you, his eyes still bleary from sleep and the remnants of his hangover. But as he looked at you, his expression softened and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Hey," he murmured, his voice raspy from disuse. "Good morning," you replied, returning his smile. You looked at him, the way the soft morning light colored his cheeks, almost unable to look away. He shifted closer to you, his hand still holding yours, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your chest at the intimate contact. The tension between you both was palpable, and you knew that something had shifted between you since last night. "I had a good dream," he whispered, his gaze never leaving yours. "Oh?" you asked, curiosity piqued. "Yeah," he said, his thumb stroking over the back of your hand. "We were sitting on a beach, watching the sunset. It was just us, and it felt...perfect." You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, and you couldn't help but think that maybe your feelings for him weren't one-sided after all. "I had a dream too," you said softly, biting your lip nervously. "We were dancing, and you were twirling me around. It felt like we were the only two people in the room." It wasn’t a lie, with the way he had been holding you throughout the night it was an easy thing to imagine, to dream. Rooster's smile widened, and he leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over your lips. "Maybe it doesn’t have to be just a dream," he murmured, his hand moving from yours to cup your cheek. And then he kissed you, soft and sweet and tentative at first, but then growing more urgent as the heat between you intensified. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, knowing that all that fear you had held onto, ignoring your feelings for him for who knows what reason, was dissipating in that very moment, his hands holding onto you so carefully. As you pulled away from the kiss, Rooster's eyes were filled with a newfound intensity, one you already couldn’t get enough of. You smiled at him, feeling more alive than ever before, and whispered, "Good morning, indeed."

#rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster imagine #rooster top gun #rooster fanfic #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster fluff #bradley bradshaw fluff #top gun fanfic

493 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

Text

Old Scars, New Blood 4

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, manipulation, borderline bullying, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader has accepted that she’ll never be wanted, not only by the man she’s crushed on for years, but by anyone. That is until a new player enters the game. (f!, short!reader)

Character: Lloyd Hansen, Thor Odinson

Note: Still sick but going to have to work.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

With meal prep complete, you return to Lloyd’s office to find it empty. The remnants of his earlier spill remain speckled over the desk and floor. You clean it up, leaving a lemony fresh scent in your stead. While you’re at it, you tidy up the bookshelves.

You hesitate on your way to the door. You glance over your shoulder as something tickles in your head. You still don’t get why Lloyd didn’t tell you about Valhalla. For months, he hid that from you. You think about that day in the car and being left on the side of the road. Maybe he’s been planning to cut ties with you for a while.

You stare at the large iMac. It would be wrong to snoop. Even if it isn’t his redeeming quality, you’ve always been honest with Lloyd. You’re just confused. He’s never anything less than straightforward so if he’s going to fire you, why hasn’t he just pulled the trigger?

Maybe… you know too much. That sends a shiver through you. It may actually end with shots fired.

“There she is,” Lloyd interrupts your inner turmoil and you whip around to face him. He’s freshly showered and styled. You can smell the specialty oil he puts in his mustache, “the fuck are you doing in here?”

“Cleaning,” you reply quickly.

“Looks pretty fucking spotless,” he tosses keys at you and you flinch, catching them against your chest, “I need a ride.”

“Um, I can get Jackie–”

“He drives like an old man,” he retorts, spinning on his heel as he snaps his fingers, “chop, chop, kid.”

You swallow your agitation. Usually, you’re better at it. Today you just find him grating. Maybe you’re just a bit sore about him leaving you on the highway. Well, get over it, he’s not apologising.

You follow him with the keys in your hand. He’s several paces ahead of you as you scurry to keep up. His stride is tense as he opens and closes his fists.

As you come outside, you hear a whistle. Lloyd peers over and scuffs to halt as he faces Thor. The large blond bounds over, a shirt with only one button done up displaying most of his chest. He looks over Lloyd’s shoulder and his cheek dimples.

“Running away?”

“Business,” Lloyd says flatly, “I’ll be back.”

“What about my business?” Thor challenges. Lloyd doesn’t respond. “Relax,” he slaps Lloyd’s arm, “I’m ragging on you. Tonight, we will share some of your scotch, eh? Get you nice and loose.”

“Mm,” Lloyd grumbles, “we’ll see.”

“The little one prefers wine, I think,” Thor points over Lloyd’s shoulder, “oh, and she has quite the sweet tooth, eh? You must know that.”

“Whatever. She’s the assistant. Her job is to worry about what I like,” Lloyd sneers, “don’t wait up.”

He turns back towards the car and you send an apologetic smile past him. Thor smirks and winks, flicking his tongue out lasciviously. You blanch and swiftly follow Lloyd.

You still don’t believe what he said in the kitchen. Not only that he said it but that he meant it. You’re certain it’s all just a part of this pissing match between the men. Thor keeps stepping onto Lloyd’s territory, he’ll keep going till he gets bit. You don’t how much longer Lloyd can hold out.

Lloyd’s in the passenger’s seat of the SUV before you even get to the door. You open it and swing yourself in. You hate how big all these vehicles are. You shove the keys in the slot and turn the engine. You shift in the seat and slide your phone out of your pocket, placing it in the cup holder.

You check the time then the mirrors. It’s not unusual for Lloyd to head out later in the day but you didn’t have anything on the agenda. You know better than to ask questions. That’s what he liked about you, if he likes anything about you.

“Would you just fucking drive?” Lloyd growls.

You wince and shift into gear. You look behind you then ahead of you. Thor watches you as you ease into reverse. Or maybe he’s watching Lloyd…

You roll the wheel and turn towards the gate. Lloyd takes out his phone and slumps in the seat as he scrolls and taps. You steer through the gate and pull out onto the road. You don’t even know if you should ask where to go.

“Head northeast,” he says.

Right. You take his direction and turn onto the ramp onto the highway. He grumbles at his phone but says nothing else until you have to get into the exit lane. What is he up to?

You head into the city and he directs you through the main row where much of the nightlife thrives. You’ve been there many times before. He isn’t shy about his nocturnal activities. He commands you past his typical spot.

When he points you into the lot behind a Hilton, you frown. Is he that desperate to get away from Thor? You don’t say a word as you idle by the back wall.

“Right,” he doesn’t look up from his phone as he undoes his seat belt, “I’ll be a while.”

You look over at him confused. What does he mean?

“I’m sure you can keep yourself entertained,” he pokes his tongue out as he smirks at his phone. You catch the glimpse of a chat, a picture sent of a woman in a thong. You cringe and grip the wheel.

“I’ll just go back to the compound–”

“You’ll stay the fuck here,” he tears his eyes from the cell and jabs his finger at you, “you need to remember who the fuck you work for, kid.”

You say nothing as he opens the door and drops out of the SUV. You know this side of Lloyd. His ego is bruised. It happens after rough missions or when an agent gets mouthy. It’s worse now since he can’t do much about his problem.

He slams the door behind him and you watch him march towards the entrance. You sigh and roll down the windows before you shut off the engine. There’s no use in wasting gas for who knows how long. You’re certain if you get bored, you’ll have enough time to get a coffee down the block.

You grab your phone and shuffle through several apps. You can’t focus on any of the time-eating games you keep for when you’re restless. You have nothing else to distract you. Your sister hasn’t answered the text you sent her a week ago and Lloyd is busy.

You open up your downloaded series and turn on the same show you’ve seen a dozen times before. Still, you’re not paying attention. You don’t think Lloyd is here for business. It really shouldn’t matter to you but it feels extra humiliating to have to wait outside while he does…whatever.

You turn off the show and let the car go silent. You adjust the seat to recline and close your eyes. You’re exhausted. All the chaos has got the best of you.

Your phone vibes before you can get cozy. It’s Lloyd. You tap the preview so it expands.

‘Need lube. Ten minutes.’

You scoff. Is he serious? Your heart shrivels up as your stomach turns. He’s punishing you. Not because you did anything but because he can’t punish Thor. You’re so so tired.

You grip the wheel and stare at the phone. You wonder if he knows? Is this why he’s doing this? All these years, talking about his escapades, you just assumed it was his usual crassness. He talks like that with everyone. If he’s not boasting about killing, it’s fucking.

Either way, he knows what he’s doing. This is low. You are low.

You open up maps and search for a shop nearby. You fix the seat and pull out, driving numbly as you follow the automated voice directing you through the street. You park without paying attention and get out, nearly stumbling from the height of the SUV’s lift.

You stroll inside the shop with its blackened windows and enter with your head down. Your eyes scan furtively as you search for your goal. The task is made more difficult as the flesh toned silicon and shameless displays set you on fire.

“Hello, hon, can I help you find something?” The man behind the counter asks.

“Er,” you cross your arms, “lube.”

“Alrighty, are we looking for flavoured? Water-based? Oil?”

You blanch as he rounds the counter and strides towards a rack. You shrug and trail after him. You see a black bottle with cherries on it.

“That’s fine,” you pluck one off the shelf and quickly retreat to the counter. “Credit.”

You bring up your card on your phone and tap. The man behind the counter tries to break the tension but you’re not listening. You shove the receipt in your pocket and swipe up the bottle and leave.

Back in the truck, you have to hold back from screaming. What are you doing? You don’t need this shit. Why do you keep bending over backwards for Lloyd when you don’t have a chance? Why have you wasted a decade hoping for nothing?

Because, you don’t have any other options.

You turn the car on and roll out of the lot. You make your way back to the hotel in a haze. You check your phone. He sent the room number and nothing else. You walk into the hotel, ignoring the front desk clerk, and wait for the elevator. You step onto it and watch the doors shut.

You get off and follow the signs to the exact door plaque. You knock with your knuckles, your hand fisted around the bottle. You hear giggling. It’s more than one woman. Footsteps approach the other side.

A woman in an open robe opens the door. She has dark wavy hair and smeared lipstick. Lloyd growls in the background as you glimpse his naked ass.

“Hurry up, sugar tits,” he calls, “I’m starting to chafe.”

You shove the bottle at the woman and drop it. You don’t wait to see if she catches it. You spin on your heel and you’re gone. Your eyes fill with hot tears. Tears like acid. Tears of stupidity.

When you get back to the car, you keel over the steering wheel and heave. You don’t hate Lloyd. You hate yourself. You need to cut it out but somehow, you just can’t. He’s the worst person you know and yet, you want him so badly.

❤️‍🩹

As the sky darkens, you get out of the SUV to stretch your legs. You pace around and check the time. You don’t want to get back in the car. Instead, you wander down the street to the coffee kiosk you drove by earlier. You get an Americano and drag your feet back up the pavement.

You stand outside the SUV and sip from the cup. You chew the paper brim anxiously and look at your phone. Another car door opens and closes.

“Candy?” A man approaches.

You look up, the glow of your face making the stranger nothing more than a dark shadow, “not me,” you back up and press your phone to your chest.

“Oh, sorry,” he puts his hands up, “thought you were someone else.”

You shake your head as he turns and wanders off. You’re not entirely sure how he mistook you for a prostitute. That is what he thought, isn’t it? Candy? Sounds pretty tasty.

You get back in the SUV and lock the doors. You put your phone in the cup holder and it flashes. A message. You don’t bother reading it. You tap your fingers on the console and close your eyes, sipping from the warm cup.

A knock on the other window startles you. You turn on the light and see Lloyd peering in. He winks and tugs on the handle. You hit the locks and sit up.

He gets in and lets out a sigh, “ahh, I feel good.”

You don’t say a word as you slip your cup into the empty holder beside your phone. You start the car and press the gas. As you come to the exit, Lloyd yawns and stretches his arm between the seats, gripping yours above your shoulder.

“I’m fucking starving, let’s hit a burger joint,” he says as he rubs his stomach, “you don’t think I would be with how much I ate.”

He cackles and you bite down. You don’t understand it. He repulses you and yet there’s that sharp pang in your chest.

“You see the tits on Kasia? Fucking pert–”

You veer onto the next street and he hits the door with the motion, “hey, be fucking careful.” He shifts in his seat as he touches his crotch, “I’m tender.”

You sniff and pull into the drive through. You stop by the menu, “what do you want?”

“Get me some of that honey chicken and some rings. Extra honey sauce for the rings. Oh, and a sprite.”

“Sure,” you answer as you drive up to the speaker. You recite his order and the fuzzy response tells you to drive up to the window.

“What’s up? You’re not hungry?”

“I’m fine,” you insist.

“Aw, you on another diet,” he taunts, “bone broth?”

“No,” you answer flatly.

“I’m not sharing my rings,” he says.

“I don’t want any,” you insist.

“You’re fucking testy,” he accuses as you pay.

“I’m tired,” you utter and roll up to the pick-up.

“You’re tired? Fuck, my back is aching from all that thrusting.”

“Would you stop?” You snap before you can stop yourself, “I don’t want to hear about your dick anymore.”

He snorts and sits up straight, “excuse me, kid?”

“I don’t care,” you reach over and give a blunt thanks to the drive-thru worker as you take the paper bag. “Why don’t you shut up and eat?"

You shove the bag in his lap then take the cup and move your phone to plant it firmly in the holder. You follow through the lane and back onto the street. The silence is still and stolid around you.

“If you wanted to join in, you just had to say–”

“No,” you snip. You know he’s not serious, he’s teasing you. You’re a joke to him. “No, I don’t want that.” You grip the wheel tight and bite down until your jaw hurts, “I don’t want you.”

He inhales and blows it out heavily through his nose. The bag crinkles as he opens it and reaches inside, unleashing the smell of chicken that makes your stomach rage. You ignore the discomfort and focus on the road.

“Learn to take a fucking joke, kid,” he snickers, “maybe then, you’ll catch a dick or two.”

#lloyd hansen #thor #dark lloyd hansen #dark thor #dark!lloyd hansen #dark!thor #thor x reader #lloyd hansen x reader #the gray man #mcu #marvel #avengers #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #old scars new blood

143 notes · View notes

heysweetheart-writes · 26 days

Text

WIP Wednesday!

Hii! I'm sort of back. After finishing the RPF fic (which you can find on ao3) my brain refused to produce more words for a while and it didn't help that @brokenpartsmightfit was traveling and not being the amazing beta that she is. But here are some words for you!

Thank you so much for today's tags: @priincebutt @theprinceandagcd @onthewaytosomewhere @suseagull04 @blueeyedgrlwrites (and thank you for your help!)

@taste-thewaste @thesleepyskipper & @firenati0n You all have some delicious things cooking!!

Here's my snippet from the neighbours au! I'm not entirely happy with it but I've decided to share anyway. Sorry for any mistakes!

“This is an amethyst,” June explains unprompted about the, honestly very beautiful, purple crystal she’s holding in her hands, not bigger than her palm. “It’s a natural tranquilliser and it's known for relieving stress and anxiety.” “Oh um–” Henry says a little hesitant because he doesn’t want to be disrespectful but he doesn’t know the first thing about crystals. “I’m not sure if I believe in these things?” “And that’s totally okay! You don’t have to!” June walks backwards looking around Henry’s living room and finally sets the rock down on a bookshelf. “It’s just a pretty rock. If anyone asks, you can say a friend gave it to you as a decoration!”

“I don't have many visitors, mostly Alex.” June oofs, “In that case I should get you a tourmaline for Alex’s weird vibes or maybe a milky quartz. I’ll ask my crystals girl.” She nods to herself. “I don’t think it’ll be necessary, actually. Alex doesn’t bring odd um– vibes, as you put it. He’s usually very relaxed when he comes over.” June and Nora give each other a look. Like they’re reading each other’s minds and then Nora cracks and starts laughing. “Are you hanging out with the same Alex as we are?” “He’s a bundle of anxious energy and weird vibes.” June adds. “Bueno, ya Catalina con las vibes de los demás. Suficiente.” “No me digas Catalina, Gabriel.” June says through gritted teeth and flicks Alex’s ear. Alex flicks her right back. They glare at each other for a moment before June rolls her eyes and waves Alex away. The entire conversation is a tad ridiculous if Henry is honest, but it’s also very endearing and even while picking at each other, Henry can see the special bond between them. “Anyway, if you say Alex is chill then you’ll be fine with the amethyst.”

tags under the cut!

I’m tagging both people I want to see what they’re up to and people I’m hoping will see this snip: @read-and-write- @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @cricketnationrise @pridepages @clottedcreamfudge

@anincompletelist @myheartalivewrites @three-drink-amy @lizzie-bennetdarcy @kiwiana-writes

@zwiazdziarka @bigassbowlingballhead @onward--upward @tailsbeth-writes @getmehighonmagic

@ninzied @nocoastposts @wordsofhoneydew @14carrotghoul @eusuntgratie

@cha-melodius @itsmaybitheway @i-am-freyja as usual, sorry if you posted and I missed it and if you don't want to be tagged, let me know!

#rwrb #rwrb fic #wip wednesday #my fic #acd #alex claremont diaz #henry fox #red white and royal blue #firstprince #firstprince fanfiction #firstprince fic #neighbours!au

59 notes · View notes

wolfjackle-creates · 1 year

Text

Ghost!Robin Part 11

Time for another WIP Wednesday! I'm not sure if I'll have anything for next week. I'm working on a one shot right now as I can and wrapping up stuff for my final week of work which is taking a ton of time. Though I did get on a roll today and wrote a bit more than I'm posting, so maybe I'll have something.

Story Summary: Danny was invited to dinner at Wayne Manor to meet Jazz's boyfriend and his family for the first time. He worked hard to make sure no ghost business would interrupt the evening. But when he arrived, all he could focus on was the ghost of the dead Robin that seemed to haunt Jason. Looks like he was breaking his promise.

First, Previous

Word Count: 1.4k

----------

“Hn. What is the range on these devices?” asked Bruce.

Danny shrugged. “My stuff? From anywhere. I track through the Infinite Realms, not by Earth. GIW? Jason-Robin, they’ll be able to detect something from probably ten miles out of city limits, but they’d need to be within half a mile to get an accurate location. The Fentons? Mile or so. They get an exact location or nothing.”

Tim asked, “Is it likely the Fenton’s will come to Gotham?”

“Not sure,” admitted Danny. “But they sell commercially, so other ghost hunters might have their equipment. Jazz, pass the Fenton Finder?”

Damian couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his voice when he finally saw the blocky silver device with a circular, green screen on it and bits sticking up out of the front. “Why is there a light bulb attached to it?”

Even Robin looked at the device with a raised eyebrow and sent out a silent this real? his way.

“It flashes when a ghost is nearby,” Danny replied to both of them.

Tim hummed in interest. “Are the visible antennae necessary? Why are there multiple?”

“Most of my parents designs were cobbled together with whatever they could cannibalize from other household electronics and junk yards. Hence the less stream-lined appearance compared to the Guys in White’s stuff.”

He flicked the switch to turn it on and instantly the light bulb was flashing red, the radar screen turned on showing several dots in close vicinity to the center, and a robotic voice said, “You are surrounded by multiple ghosts. You’d have to be an idiot to not notice the ghosts all around you.”

Danny let it read out it’s warning again before flicking it back off. He had to laugh at the looks of complete bafflement on basically everyone’s faces. Even Bruce raised an eyebrow at it.

“Yeah, that’s my parents for you. FentonWorks designs are at least easy to spot. Not the the Guys in White’s stuff is much better. That horrible white on everything…” Danny shuddered. “I hate white.”

Bruce hummed. “Will you be able to provide us with some of these devices so we can study them on our own?”

Danny bit at his lower lip. “Probably. But it’ll have to wait until after I get you the information on how to safely work with ectoplasm. If Tim and Barbara are your big tech people, they’re not liminal at all and will have to be careful when handling it.”

Tim added, “We do have extensive experience working with toxic chemicals. Many of the Gotham rogues use chemical warfare.”

“Right. Yeah, I’ll have Tucker send you the safety sheets on it and we’ll see what devices I’ve got or can make duplicates of to get to you. I’ll be sure you get all three styles of hand-held trackers and their schematics. Maybe I’ll even be able to get you the schematics for a larger tracking system like what my parents have set up in Amity.”

Barbara nodded. “That would be great. What sort of set up do your parents have in your home town?”

“So they’ve set up sensors all over the city that detect ectoplasmic activity. The signal gets sent back to the computer in the ops center they built on top of their house, and they can pin the exact location of any ghost to within a foot or two anywhere within, like, five miles of the city limits. That data is also shared with the computer in their GAV.”

Jason bumped Jazz’s shoulder with his. “I know I’m gonna regret this, but what’s the ‘GAV’?”

Jazz sighed and answered. “It stands for Ghost Assault Vehicle. It’s a modified RV that’s basically a tank. Jack and Maddie simply have to press a button and a dozen ghost weapons will protrude from the vehicle and aim for any nearby ghost. And that’s without Maddie shoving her entire upper body out the window while holding a bazooka.”

“Yep. I regret asking. How badly am I gonna want to murder your parents by the time I’m done learning about them?”

“They are not my parents.” Jazz’s voice was hard.

At the same time, Danny answered, “Depends. How do you feel about genocidal mad scientists?”

Jason just let his head bang on the table. Robin flew over to him and patted him on the back. Jason seemed to subconsciously lean into the touch.

“Now,” said Danny. “I promised I’d show the rest of you these scanners up close.”

“That would be appreciated,” said Bruce. “We also have a few more questions about you and your parents.”

“And I need you to tell me more about these Lazarus pits because those sound like they’re a disaster.”

Alfred cleared his throat. “And I believe that will have to be the end of this meeting tonight. It is getting late and at least some of you will insist on going on patrol tonight still.”

A few people grumbled at Alfred’s words, but no one argued.

Danny made his way to the other side of the table and went over how to use the devices again. He pretended not to notice the way Jazz flinched when he turned on the Fenton Finder and it called out its warning again.

Jason did put an arm around her in response, though, so he figured she’d be all right.

“So that’s that,” he said once he turned off the last device. “I won’t be showing you any weapons until after we get you up to date on ghost biology and culture. If you run into issues in the meantime, you can call Jazz or me and we’ll take care of it.”

Bruce nodded. “We’ll be following up with our own experts as well.”

“Of course,” agreed Danny. “I figured. Now, you had some more questions?”

Tim asked, “You mentioned to me and Alfred that a member of Justice League Dark stopped by Amity. Can you tell us more about that?”

“I mean, there’s not much to tell,” said Danny. “It was John Constantine. And at the time I had no idea how famous he was. Would’ve asked for an autograph if I had, but oh well. This was shortly after I defeated Pariah Dark, the previous Ghost King. He came in, asked if I needed help. I told him I got it covered, he gave me a phone number, and that was that.”

Bruce hummed. “Yes, that sounds like Constantine. We will speak to him.”

“Why?” asked Danny. “It was exactly what I wanted. A check in to confirm I was okay and someone to reach out to on Earth if I got in over my head. It’s just by that time I started getting allies in the Realms. The big concern Earth-side was ghost hunters. And the worst of them were government sanctioned so I wasn’t sure if I should reach out to the Justice League since you guys also work with the US government.”

Jason let out a noise that Danny could only think of as a growl. “He should have spent enough time there to answer questions like that.”

Danny snorted. “Less than a week before he arrived, our entire town was removed from Earth and brought into the Infinite Realms for multiple days. Something would’ve been very wrong with him if he’d stuck around longer than it took to confirm it wasn’t likely to happen again.”

“I’m sorry,” asked Steph, “what is that about your entire town being transported off earth?”

“Don’t you know? My friends and I figured that’s why you sent Constantine to us.”

Barbara shook her head as she clicked around her computer. “There’s nothing in the Justice League files about it.”

“Huh. Well that’s how I became the Ghost King. The previous king was released by an idiot and lured to Amity. Ended up bringing the entire town into the Realms. His goal was to take over the town then the rest of earth. I defeated him in single combat while some other ghosts helped hold back his armies. No one bothered to tell me until later that that meant won his titles as well.”

Dick was frowning at him. “Why did you have to be the one to defeat him?”

Danny just blinked at him in confusion. “Who else was there? My accident is what activated the portal and started letting ghosts through. By making me half ghost, I had the powers necessary to contain the ones who caused problems. My parents were incompetent at best. So I just did what had to be done. Besides, if I hadn’t been an idiot, the portal never would’ve turned on in the first place. So it was my responsibility to fix it.”

----------

And no one at the table liked that answer! The end of the dinner is finally in sight! I know I'm overlooking characters. I'll do some editing to make sure everyone gets a say before I eventually get around to posting this to AO3. (It's a good part of the reason I haven't started cross posting, tbh. That and I like to have stories fully finished before I start posting.)

Hope you all enjoy.

Tag List Part 1:

@addie-lover-of-stories, @justwannabecat, @gin2212, @amercurio, @regonold, @overtherose, @readerzj, @sjrose1216, @echoednonny, @deeterzz, @blu-lilac, @number-one-jew, @rowanaway-fromthisbs, @vythika96, @tired-yet-awaken, @themirrorghost, @emeraldcorpral, @all-mights-asscheeks, @darkhinauniverse, @blep-23, @phandomhyperfixationblog, @larkcoe1, @thegatorsgoose, @job-ross-the-second, @britcision, @lenacraft, @bubblemixer, @androgynouslordofescapism, @purefrickingspite, @leftmiraclechaos, @lizisipancardo, @starlight-sparks, @miraculousandmore, @gildedphoenix, @sometimesthingsfallapart, @letmesayfuxk, @phoenixcatch7, @skulld3mort-1fan, @abaowo, @dhampir-princess, @idkmrpianoman, @sarina-elais, @ballzfrog-blog, @undead-essence, @spookytragedyshark, @flyingpansaurus, @akintoabitch, @marivictal, @8-29pm, @justreadingthefanfics, @happybear135, @kisatamao, @spoopyspoony, @adorablechaos, @sara0055, @screamingtofillthevoid

#dpxdc #danny fenton #jazz fenton #all the bats #anger management #my writing #were finally moving past the distrust!#at least a bit #constantine felt a chill go down his spine #he's gonna be spending longer than he'd like avoiding bats after this night #danny has no idea what he just unleashed on the wizard

367 notes · View notes

britcision · 1 year

Text

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:

————-

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

259 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

lonely-cat-lady-9

cats, music & fried chicken~

jojothewhite-blog

JojoTheWhite

violentandchildish-blog

who else could it be?

opadillazayas

Untitled

eldeniscorreia

Souvenirs